I own nothing except for the non original stuff :) Slight mention of rape,
no graphics at all. I have absolutely no ability with that stuff.
Once Dallas limped into the house he headed up to his room instantly.
As soon as he got in his room he plopped down on the bed and looked
around.
The walls were dark blue, looking more purple were the moon hit it. On
one side of the room there was a bed, on the other a desk and a
cabinet. A few articles of clothing were deserted in the corner where
Dally had left them.
Dally laid back on the bed and was overcome by a wave of tiredness. He
forced himself to painfully pull his tee shirt over his head before
resting his head on the pillow, falling quickly into a fitful sleep.
...
Flames surrounded him, black smoke filled the air, suffocating him. He
was about to turn and dart out the room when he heard it. Quiet at
first, but growing louder slowly.
"Help!" the voice screamed. Johnny's voice.
Without thinking Dallas plunged into the darkness and tried to follow
the voice.
He heard it again beside him. As he turned to face that direction he heard
it once again, the opposite way though. He spun around helplessly as Johnny's
cries of pain filled the room.
Dally tried to call his name but the smoke got stuck in his throat,
sending him to the ground in a coughing fit, leaving him gasping for
breath. The edges of his vision blurred.
The flames parted in front of him revealing Johnny, lying on the
ground. Although he couldn't see his chest he somehow he knew he wasn't
breathing.
"Noooo!" Dallas shrieked, chorused by a new voice.
Dally swung his head to the left, in the direction of the other
voice, only to see Ponyboy curled up in a corner, his knees pulled up
to his chest and his head buried in his arms.
"I'm sorry.." Dally heard himself sob.
Ponyboy looked up from his knees. Hi eyes were hollow, pits of blackness
tears of blood were running down his face.
"It's your fault! It's all your fault!" Pony yelled.
Dally opened his mouth to grovel again but felt something grip his wrist.
"You brought this on yourself."
He looked at his arm to see a burnt hand pulling him. Johnny. But it
wasn't him anymore. It was like he was sleep walking, his voice
emotionless, his eyes dead.
"I'm sorry Johnny! Please don't!"
"You brought this on yourself..." Johnny murmured while dragging Dally
across the floor with inhuman strength.
Suddenly the flames grew larger, reaching out to Dallas' body and
biting him angrily. Pain tore through him.
"You brought this on yourself." Johnny mumbled one last time before
yanking Dally like a rag doll furiously in front of him. He heard a groan as
the floor weakened under him than the ground beneath him shattered.
Soon he was falling, falling, falling...
...
Dallas shot awake in bed. His body drenched in sweat. His heart
beated mercilessly in his chest. He found he was gasping for breath.
You brought this on yourself. Johnny's words echoed in his head. His
words echoed in his head...His words...
...
A small dark haired boy, no older than 6, was huddled in a corner in
the kitchen. One hand was holding his cheek, reddening at a quick
rate. The other one clenched in a shaking fist at his side.No else will every make me sound weak he vowed.
"You worthless son-of-a-bitch! Money doesn't grow on trees you know!
Fuckin' glasses cost a fuckin' lot!" the large man in front of him
yelled, hitting the boys head once more.
Dallas stole a glance to the ground in the corner where pieces of the
broken cup laid fallen on the floor. Stupid cup. Wasn't even his
fault. Damn handle broke. Worthless piece of-
He was interrupted mid-thought by a loud crack.
"Listen to when I talk boy!"
Dallas turned reluctantly to the man his mother had fallen for. Mitch.
The man Dally hated more than anything. The man she loved more than she
loved him. More than she'll ever love him.
"I'm gonna teach you some manners boy."
Dallas fought back tears. He wasn't going to give in to him.
He heard the familiar jangle as he slowly unbuckled his belt...
His body tensed against his will.
The familiar scathing as he slid his belt through the loops...
He closed his eyes and prayed that he'd tell him to turn around, lift
he's shirt, belt him, anything but that...
The zip as he undid his pants...
His whole body was shaking. He squeezed his eyes tight and prayed
for something, anything to happen to stop this...
"Please don't.." Dally begged. He hated how shaky his voice sounded.
"You deserve this boy. You brought it on yourself.."
...
Dally took a sharp intake of breath as he came back to reality.
Why were they coming back again? he thought angrily after his
flashback. You beat this. You stopped him one night. You ran away.
He's not near you. You could beat him anyways. Your bigger now.
Tougher. Meaner. But as much as he tried to convince himself his hands wouldn't stop
shaking. Finally he held them together to try to keep them still.
The ticking of the clock seemed to get louder every passing second.
Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-
tock. Tick-tock.
"Screw it." he muttered while pulling himself up off his bed. Pain
shot through his chest, leaving him paralyzed for a minute.
Finally he managed to pull a shirt on and he crept out of his room.
Making sure to not make a sound he walked down the hall. He heard
quiet snoring coming from where he suspected was Jake and Katie's room.
As he finally managed to get down the stairs he entered the main
bathroom and searched through the cabinets until he found some
painkillers. Not bothering to read the directions he dry-swallowed three
than headed back to the hall and found his boots.
Yanking them on he slipped into the crisp air outside.
Sticking to the shadows he found his way back into the east side with
in minutes.
He walked around pointlessly for a hour or so than settled on leaning
on a pole, sucking on a weed every few minutes.
Eventually people started staggering out of bars, cars drove by and
children chased each other down the street.
He looked up to see the sun had risen, awakening the town.
He headed towards the Curtis' house but didn't get far.
He saw Tim Sheppard heading out of Bucks but didn't think anything of
it until he felt a rough hand on his shoulder yank him around.
"Dallas?" Tim's voice was filled with disbelief.
Dally rolled his eyes. Probably still wasted from a night of partying.
Tim's eyes opened wide. "Your dead." He said it as a statement, but
in a questioning tone.
"Tim get your head out of your ass. Do I really look dead ta you? Are
you high?" Dally looked closer at Tim trying to find any signs that he was in fact
drunk or high and not crazy.
"No. No. No. No..." Tim shook his head. "The cops shot you. They
killed you. They shot you 'cause you had a gun. 'Cause you had my gun...oh god
my gun..."
Dallas looked at him bewildered. Tim thought he was dead? Then it hit
him. Tim was like this because he thought he was dead!
Tim was still rambling on about something about his gun, his eyes wide
and wild.
Dally looked around. People couldn't see Tim like this. He was probably one of
the toughest hoods right up with Dallas...or a little under him.
He grabbed his shoulders an shook him. When Tim adverted he gaze he
shook him again until his eyes met his own.
"Tim. Look at me. I'm not dead. The cops shot me, but I lived. I'm not
dead."
Dallas studied Tim's face as his expression went from confusion,
understanding, embarrassment than finally rage.
"You stole my fuckin' gun!" Tim swore at Dally.
Dallas might've smiled to see his friend back to normal, but put on a
cold expression instead, removing his hands he was embarrassed to find
still on Tim's shoulders.
"Maybe I did, maybe I didn't. Prove to me it was your gun and maybe
I'll think about repaying you." he retorted smugly.
Tim growled at him. "I'd kill you if you weren't cripple right now."
His glare would make people back away but Dally knew that it
was a empty threat. He was trying to cover his slip up.
"I could take you cripple." Dallas sneered enjoying the reaction of
anger he got in return.
"Fuck you!" Tim muttered while flipping Dally off. Not bothering to
wait for a response Tim spun on his heel and walked off.
Tim wasn't really mad at him, he was mad at himself for showing
he cared about Dally, and in front of Dallas Winston for Christs sake!
Tim had thought of mentioning the fact that the gun Dallas had used
was empty, that he'd lost it and tried to kill himself. But he knew he
couldn't, because than Dally could bring up the fact that he had lost
it over him, that he was weak too. So they didn't bring it up,
couldn't. Because they weren't weak. They were hoods. Greasers. JDs.
Tough. Unbreakable. Untouchable.
Dallas watched as Tim hurried down the road.
He knew he wasn't really mad. Just embarrassed for freaking out.
He looked absent mindedly back at the bar, Pintoes for a minute before walking
in, forcing himself not to limp, as much as before anyways.
He sat on a stool by the bar and waited for Rick, the bartender and friend to come by.
"Dallas? I thought you were.."
"Holy shit I'm not dead. Look at me. I'm not dead. Cops shot me, I
lived blah blah blah. Now, what was Tim doing here."
Rick looked at him a moment and decided against asking Dallas a few
questions. He knew not to get on his bad side, especially when he's
already in a bad mood.
"Yeah, Tim drank himself stupid for the past week. Worst I've ever
seen him. Don't know if he even left the bar come to think of it. Even
when your broad came onto him he pushed her away. Didn't think a man
could refuse a lay, let alone Tim fuckin' Shepard. Never saw a man so
down. He'd kill anyone who came near him that wasn't bringing him some
boos. Jesus he scared off half my customers. Ain't never seen him like that 'fore"
Buck shook he's head wondrously before leaving to serve a customer.
Three thoughts came to Dallas' mind after Bucks speech.
The first thing was about Tim drinking more than he'd ever had before
because he thought he was dead. He's seen Tim after a night of hard
partying, so to do worse than what Ricks seen him do before must have
been mighty impressive.
The second was about what a whore Sylvia was. Was she even sad he
apparently died? And to throw herself at Tim, he's arch nemesis and
best friend, was unbelievable. Even Dally didn't think she'd sink that
low. And even more shocking was that Tim said no. Was he really that
sad?
And to he's most shocking thought was that Tim missed him. He had
drowned his sorrows at the bar, refused sex and looked more confused
and sad than Dally's ever seen. Did Tim really care for him? If he had
succeeded in killing himself what would have happened to Tim? He didn't
want to know.
He left the bar engulfed in his thoughts. He so out of it he didn't even notice
the red mustang cruising behind him.
As Dallas turned down the road leading the Curtis' he glanced behind
him and saw some socs following him.
"Shit." he seethed through his gritted teeth.
He forced himself not to pick up any speed as he glanced around. Not a
person in sight.
He cursed himself for not noticing them before.
He was barely half way down the road when he heard them halt to a stop
and pile out of the car.
He grinned to himself. Fighting time.
He spun around viciously, hitting the nearest one under his chin.
He knew the odds were well against him but he was not going to run.
The next guy who came up to him, instead of doing his regular punch
like the soc expected, he stepped off to the side, pushing his leg
forwards, tripping him.
He turned around only to see the other ones right in front of him.
They had him pinned on the ground within seconds.
"Fuckin dirty greaser!" one of the socs swore at him, one with a
broken nose Dallas noted.
As he pulled out a switch blade he waved it manically in Dally's face,
become even more angered when he didn't get a reaction.
Dally analyzed his movements waiting for the perfect moment.
He watched as the guy leaned forwards a little, as he turned the blade
on it's side, moved it towards Dallas' neck slowly...now.
With all his strength Dally kicked his legs and twisted and pulled
his arms.
Finally he managed to get one arm free. He hit the guy with the blade
first, stealing it at the same time.
Using the blade he forced the holder of his other arm to release it, by making
him dodge a swipe Dally took at him.
With his torso free he twisted his body and kicked his feet in a
final act of desperation. The second he felt them loosen they're grip
he jumped to his feet.
But he didn't run like they all thought he'd do. He charged at the
nearest one to bring him to the ground.
"Fuckin socs!" Dallas swore after getting pulled off of him. He turned
around and took a swing at the one who held his shoulder and slammed
his body into the other.
Dallas felt the mixture of blood and sweat cover his body but he
ignored it. He felt he knuckles split and bruise, his muscles
screamed at him in agony. But he didn't stop. His bad leg protested with a
sharp shooting pain up his leg but he didn't feel it. His stitches
were breaking and his ribs were throbbing. Every breath he took lit a
fire in his chest but he didn't feel anything. All he could do was
figure out how to take the opponents down in front of him down.
Eventually one of them fled back to the car, the others on his heels.
As Dally watched the mustang peel off in the opposite directions he
felt himself grinning. Damn that felt good.
"Dallas!" Dally became aware of someone calling his name and turned
to see Two-Bit stumbling down the road towards him, gasping heavily.
"Dallas!" As Two-Bit leaned on his knees he looked up to make sure
Dallas was still in fact breathing. "I saw the socs..cough! And I came
as fast as I could...cough! That was fuckin amazing..cough! Cough!
Cough! Damn I got to stop smoking." Two-Bit wheezed.
Dallas waited for Two-Bit's breathing to return to normal before talking.
"It wasn't that bad."
"WASNT THAT BAD! There was 5 of them Dal! They even got you pinned at one
point! I musta blinked cause next thing I know your beating the shit
outta them! Oh shit your bleeding!" Two-Bit swore while pointing to
Dallas' chest where his tee-shirt was dyed red.
Dally mumbled something about being fine but Two-Bit obviously didn't believe
him because next thing he knew he was being dragged into Darry's house.
As the door burst open Darry glanced up to see a wided eyed Two-Bit
and a bloody and bruised but surprisingly calm Dally.
"What the hell happened?" Darry gasped while getting up and leading
Dally to the kitchen and pushed him up so he sat on the counter.
Darry waited patiently as Two-Bit described Dallas' attack, filled
with wild arm motions and sound effects. Dally interjected at some
points to fix his exaggerations but other words remained quiet.
After he was done Darry turned to Dallas and raised his eyebrows as if to
question if that was true which he responded in a shrug, saying it was.
"You stupid asshole! You should have ran!.."
Dally waited impatiently for Darry's lecture to end. He zoned out a few
times but mostly counted the seconds go by on the clock.
He looked back as he noticed Darry was finishing up. "Do you
understand?"
Dallas wondered what the hell he had said. "Sure..."
Darry sighed and finally lost his protective father ego. He didn't mean to but
he had found himself treating the guys as if they were Pony or Soda lately. He
forced himself to calm down and grinned at Dally. "5 of them huh?"
He just nodded and shrugged, saying it was no big deal.
Darry whistled. "Tuff."
Dally tried but couldn't keep a little smile of his face.
"Alright. Shirt off." Darry ordered.
Dally reluctantly agreed. Pulling his shirt off proved to be more painful than
he had thought it'd be. Once he finally managed to get it off he sat
down on the counter again, leaning his head back and closing his
eyes, suddenly exhausted.
Darry studied his friends chest before touching it. He had a long
gash that ran along his stomach, probably from a blade or broken
bottle. He ribs were covered in bruises of black and purple, surrounded
by slightly yellow skin. Broken stitches covered his left abdomen and
high on he chest, just above his breast.
Slowly he reached his hand out and touched Dally's ribs and put a
little pressure until he heard him gasp a little. He knew they were
and should still should be wrapped but Dally took them off. He never
kept them on, whether from just stupidity or ignorance Darry didn't
know.
He returned his gaze to the slice on he stomach that wouldn't stop
bleeding, no matter how many towels. He'd have to stitch it and then
take out than restitch the others.
When he told Dally this he received a look of confusion. "They cut
me?" Dally muttured while taking a look himself. Sure enough there it
was. When did this happen?
Darry looked at him confused. "What'd yah mean? You didn't know?"
Dally sort of grunted before resuming his previous position, closing his eyes.
Darry shrugged than began stitching him up. Starting with the fresh
one and ending with the one high on his chest. He had learnt this skill a while back.
A lot of them actually knew how to do them because they all hated the hospital.
"Alright all done." Dally grunted and slid off the counter, feeling a
little dizzy he grabbed onto the counter ledge.
"Stay here" Darry ordered, noticing Dallys white knuckles.
Dally opened his mouth to refuse but Darry had already dragged him to
the couch.
Dally was asleep before his head hit a cushion.
Alright tell me what you think. I wont update for at least until next
Mon. cause I gotta do ALOT of homework and Im going to Toronto
:D Hope you like if not say what you didnt. Review cause i love reviews
and i honestly dont care what you say, even if its like: hi, update. That is
100% cool :D Have a good weekend :D