Wrecked
A/N: I think the rest of the story is going to be in 3rd person POV. It took a lot of figuring out to do. Forgive me if I change it. I really need a beta-reader. I can give advice to other people, but never to myself. Why is that? Hmm . . .
Thanks a ton to those that reviewed, favorited, story alert-ed (or whatever you'd call it). It really means a lot! I hope you like this.
Chapter 1: Lauren's Story
She is confused and dazed when the red and blue lights suddenly jerk her from her slumber. Lauren O'dair faces the outline her father's dark, jet truck that blends into the night, swung deep into the alley. She struggles to roll over and face the blaring lights and blazing sound of alarms. Her father is being spoken to by a police man, far bigger than him. "Could you stand right here for me, sir?" The police man asks, gesturing to a small piece of white tape on the road littered with glass and wine.
Her father nods and stumbles to the almost glowing spot in the road. She watches, as does the police man, as her father struggles to keep balance on the road, which the tall, thick-necked, intimidating police man asked him to do. He appears drunk, like the men from a block behind which are hiding all to loudly and violently inside bars. "Sir, I'll have to arrest you for driving while drunk, too. Was there anyone else in the vehicle with you?"
"Yes," Lauren whispers to herself, looking her father in the eyes as he searches for her figure.
"No, sir," He says, dropping his head down before winking at his daughter, who was now so confused and weak that she didn't understand what she should do.
"Excuse me for a moment." The police man says, nodding to his newest catch.
Lauren immediately takes this chance, and stumbles to her father. She finally catches up to him after what seems like hours, pain shooting through her leg with each step. A pain most don't expirience in their life, let alone within a mere ten years of it. "Daddy," She says weakly.
"Lauren, I can't explain what happened to you." Her father says. Then, he instructs her to pull a letter out of his pocket. "I wrote it when I knew the police were going to find us. You were still knocked out from the . . . incident." He struggles for the right words to say to his one true treasure, his daughter. "Mail it to the address on there. Memorize the address; go there tomorrow at noon. I promise I'll come back. I'll be back in one week."
Lauren speaks to him for the first time since she awoke, and for the last time in a while. "One week?" She asks, fear in her sweet, innocent, young voice.
"One week, I promise. Go on, now, Lauren. Everything will be okay."
She nods and goes back to her position on the verge of entering the alleyway. When the lights are gone, she looks at the apartments surrounding here. I don't want to be here, Daddy, She thinks, calling out to him in her own mind. Please, Daddy! I'll be good. Please. Her bribes and promises don't work, though. She doesn't accept it for a long time that her dad has been arrested. Tears of sadness and sweat of the fear that overcomes her wrap her in a cold, uncomforting cocoon, and she falls asleep as the first signs of day appear.
It's mid-day when little Lauren wakes up. She streches out her hands and gives a yawn. She remembers the note and searches for it on the concrete. There are no signs of people on the street. It's quiet, calm, and Lauren can't help but wonder about last night as she walks to the post office.
People surround the nearest post office, working their way into the building to mail their letters, or they may be headed to the shops nearby the post office. Lauren works her way in the building and mails the letter. She thinks about showing up today, but the letter probably won't get there until tomorrow. She thinks of what she might do.
Lauren finally decides to get something to eat with the five dollars she found wrapped up inside the envelope with a note, saying: For you, Lauren. She asks the man at the post office, "Sir, where is the nearest gas station?"
The old man jerks his thumb to the left and says, "That-a-way, little miss. A Shell, can't miss it."
"Thank you," She says. Lauren skips to the gas station and buys little things, leaving her with an even three fifty. For the first time that day, Lauren examines herself in the station's bathroom. Her red shirt and blue jeans are covered in dirt. A big, thin cut on her left knee reveals a scar of a maroon color. The same colored, tiny scars cover her whole body. She picks off a few more pieces of glass and meets the most haunting feature. Brown stares at brown. She sees something her eyes that she can't quite place. Fear? Overwhelming? Confusion? Perhaps, it's all of the feelings mixed into one.
She shakes her head and turns on the warm water. She pulls out a paper towel from the dispenser and wets it, then washes the dried, rusty blood from her face. She smiles at her cleaner self when she's through with that. She repeats the process by pulling up her sleeves and washing her arms a legs, taking extra percaution to her left side-the left knee in particular. She looks at her reflection and gives a grim smile. I look better, She thinks. Much better than before, and tomorrow, I'll go to the man's house. And he'll be really nice to me. I'll have a nice home there until Daddy gets back.
Lauren walks around town for the rest of the day, giving small talk to the people behind counters. "Good morning, little girl," They say.
"Good morning," Lauren responds. She asks them for directions to the next place she wants to go. When it turned dark, she asks one young, teenage girl with curly red hair where the nearest park was.
"About a block down, near your ground," She snides, griping her teeth and half-snorting. Lauren knows what the girl was referring to her as, and she had to admit, she wouldn't think twice about labeling herself one, too. A greaser. The red-haired girl was a middle-class judging by her looks, but one can't be for sure. Lauren simpily nods and heads out the door.
The park had a fountain. Lauren is interested in it at first, because it had red droppings on one side of the fountain. She thinks about the droppings for a while, of what it might be. A drop of blood leaks out of her knee and falls on the concrete ground. Lauren compares the two droppings and comes to a conclusion: the dry, red drops on the ground are blood. She yawns and heads over to a bench. After deep, long thoughts of the past, present, and future, Lauren drifts off to sleep and dreams of darkness.
Lauren wakes up to the dim, gray light of morning. Stretching out her arms, she gets up and heads to the nearest gas station to look at the time. When somebody finally comes to unlock the doors, Lauren stands behind him. "Oh, hello," The man says, nodding to Lauren.
"Hello," She says quietly, a little uncomfortably.
"What are you doing here this early?" The man says. He unlocks the door and holds it open for Lauren to enter. His white hair and wrinkly, aged face contrast from his brightly colored eyes.
She nods to the clock. "I wanted to see what time it was," She says.
"Well, it should be six." The man says.
Lauren gives a soft yet agitated response, somewhere between a moan and a groan. "Six?" She questions, involuntarily poking her lip out and making puppy-eyes.
The man chuckles lightly. "You can stay here until it's time for you to leave," He offers. Lauren accepts. She stays and talks to the man. His name is John, and he's forty-nine years old, aged early. He has a twenty-three year old son and a twenty-one year old daughter. Their names are Michael and Elizabeth. Lauren keeps her information inisde, telling him only her first name and the street where she's supposed to go. "Why are you headed there?" The man asks her.
"Hmm? Oh, my . . . uncle is there. I'm staying with him for a week." Good lie, She tells herself.
"You are?"
"Yes, sir. My dad's on a buissness trip until then." Which wasn't a complete lie. Lauren was here in Tulsa with her father who was on a trip to research something for an article he was working on. They were supposed to stay for one week, then leave and go back home.
"Oh,"
Twelve o' clock rolled around what seemed like twelve hours later to Lauren. She thanked John and left for the address. 2160 Oak Street, 2160 Oak Street, She said to herself in her Street wasn't far from the station, John had courtesy enough to tell her that. "Just walk about a block to the left when you step out that door. Take another right; walk until you reach the empty lot. Then, keep walking in the direction of the stop sign. Oak Street's somewhere 'round there." Thank you, John. She said in her mind.
And so she did. The empty lot turned out to be not-so-empty. Two boys were tossing a ball back and forth. "Hey, Steve," One says. This one looked nicer than the other. He had honey-blonde hair and a calm composure.
"Yeah?" Says the other. He had dark, swirled hair and a thick build. He scared Lauren a little.
"You think you can take my shift? Please?" The honey-haired boy whines, making a puppy-dog face that could beat Lauren's own.
"Soda," The other whines. "Fine, but you're takin' my weekend shift."
"Thank you!" He repeats. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" He holds out his hands to hug his friend, but his friend pushes him away with a silly look on his face.
Lauren waits for the two boys to pass her. One goes down Oak Street, and the other turns around. She looks for the address as she goes down the street. 2000, 2010, 2020. The honey-haired boy whistles a sweet little Elivs tune that Lauren hums softly to. Soft leaves crunch under Lauren's feet. A cool breeze whips her light brown hair across her face. She's at peace for the first time in a while. Then 2160 Oak Street comes into view.
The boy stops whistling, and Lauren stops humming. He opens the chain-link fence's gate that surrounds the dusty, peeling, grayish-peach colored house. Lauren tilts her head a little and stops in her tracks. The boy looks at Lauren for the first time and smiles. "What's your name, sweetie?"
Lauren swallows. Should she trust this boy? He looks nice enough. Lauren doesn't dare look into his lively brown eyes, though, in fear that his look is as crazy and deranged as her father's were the night before. "Lauren," She says softly.
"Lauren O'dair?" The boy asks.
Lauren hesitates before nodding. "I'm looking for Darrel . . . Curtis. My daddy told me to come here." She struggles to remember the details of the letter, but she does.
"Yeah, he'll be home soon. Come on inside," He holds out a hand and swings open the gate. Lauren reluctantly accepts. She steps through the creaky, old door into the house, where two boys sit on the couch. One has red-brown hair with little streaks of blonde in it. He's young-much younger than the young, drunk man sitting next to him. They both look up. The brown-haired boy from his book and the red-haired one from his drink and the television.
"Hey, Soda," The drunk one calls out. "Takin' another break?"
"Yeah," The boy beside Lauren responds.
"Wat'cha got there, Soda?" The book-boy asks.
Soda? Is this guy's name seriously Soda? "Soda" pushes Lauren forward lightly. "This," He says, gesturing to the girl covered in dirt, scars, and other types of mess. "Is Lauren O'dair."
"The girl from the letter?" Book-boy asks.
"What letter?" The other boy asks, throwing his faded black jacket on the floor, revealing a Mickey Mouse muscle-tee. Oh, god,
"The letter," Book-boy hands the other boy the letter that Lauren sent. Lauren watches as the book-boy and "Soda" argue about her.
"Aw, come on, Pony! Darry can't say no." Darry? She thinks. She realizes that the Darrel Curtis she was sent to may not want to keep her.
"Soda!" Book-boy whines.
"Let's just wait until he gets home or somethin'. Just quit arguing!" The red-haired boy suggests.
"Okay," The boy beside Lauren says and plops on the couch, taking a swig of Pepsi. Lauren continues to stand in her spot. Okay, She thinks, Let's wait for this man to get home.
About for hours later, the rumble of a car adds to the sound of a radio, the t.v, and Two-Bit, Soda, and Pony screaming over a poker game. Lauren learned a lot about the boys. Well, she learned their names and all about Two-Bit, who wouldn't shut up for five seconds. "I'm home," Says a voice at the door.
"Hey, Darry!" Soda pipes up, sliding an ace into his shoe. Two-Bit catches him and holds his hand. Lauren turns around to face the man named Darry. He was tall, big, and thickly built. Lauren actually wondered if he had a tattoo or not, or, rather, how many. He looked sweaty and tired, ready to end another work-filled day. He walks right pass Lauren, who has opened her mouth a tiny bit at the sight of the huge man.
"Tell him, Soda," Ponyboy says, grinning from ear to ear.
"What?" Darrel asks, giving Soda a look.
Soda smiles and makes his way toward Lauren. "I was thinkin' that . . . maybe we could let Lauren stay,"
Darrel looks at the little girl and sighs, looking back up at Soda. "No," He says sternly. Soda tries to speak up again, but another one of Darrel's "no's" stops him.
So he tries once more.
"Please, Darry? Look at her! How can you say no to this?" Soda wraps his arms around Lauren, making her uncomfortable, but her eyes still plead.
Darrel looks a little closer at Lauren. His eyes widen a little. "Come here," He whispers, softly, gently. Darrel sits Lauren on the couch. She gives in hesitantly, knees folded over the couch, sucking in a breath of air. Darrel sits down, too, and slides a first aid kit out from underneath the couch. He opens it, lays it on his lap, and takes Lauren's arm. She breathes a little fast as Darrel examines it, turning it this way and that. He picks up her other arm and almost immediately gets to work.
"Hold still, sweetie," Darrel tells her. He picks something up from the kit and begins to wipe her arm. Lauren whines and tears form in her eyes.
"It hurts," She mutters, locking her puppy-dog eyes with Darrel's hard and firm eyes.
"Yes," He mutters, continuing to wipe her arms down with the intoxicated rag. She clutches her teeth and toughs it out. He picks glass and tiny pebbles out of her whole left side, wiping her down and cleaning her up. "There," He says when he finishes. "All done,"
Soda, Ponyboy, and Two-Bit come over. They take random seats and look at Darrel. "So?" Soda asks.
"So, what?" Darrel asks.
"So,"
Darrel gets agitated. "What?" He asks again.
"What about Lauren?" Two-Bit asks, making sense out of Soda's misinterpreted words.
Darrel sighs. He looks at the half-hidden little girl on the couch. He thinks long and hard about the descision, one can only guess what runs through the young man's mind. "Okay,"
End Of Chapter 2: Lauren's Story
A/N: So, yeah. There you have it. Better? Worse? I personally think I did good.
As always, reviews are appreciated.