A/N: I warned you all that things would get complicated. That happens now.

Warning: This chapter contains sexual assault. I don't think anything here goes past the T rating but, if people think it does, let me know and I will fix it. Judging by what is on TV these days, it's hard to tell. If you are offended by such content, you can skip this chapter and tune in to the next and you will figure out what happened.

I know introducing such a plot line screams Mary-Sue. I assure you all, this is not a cheap plot device to gain sympathy for my character. If it were, I certainly would not have waited sixty-eight chapters before having it happen. I would NEVER use this as a pointless plot, I fully understand the repercussions and implications of what I am writing, and I hope I portray that acceptably. There is a point, I promise. Stick with me.

I know this is not what anyone wanted to see happen to Scout. I don't want it to either, but it's how the story goes.

Hmmm. I've never been nervous to post a chapter before, but right now I am.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

I awoke shortly after to a commotion in the living room.

"You're the best, Steve." Soda was yelling. "You stuck around. Everybody else leaves, Sandy left, but you're still here. You're all I have left!"

"Yeah, well, you know how to get all the girls for us at parties!"

I could tell by Soda and Steve's slurred voices that they were very drunk, and from the amount of banging and crashing of walls and furniture, it seemed like they were able to maintain balance even less than I had been earlier. Soda almost never drank, but, with how he had been feeling lately, it didn't surprise me that he had been out trying to drown his sorrows. Having Two-Bit along as an enabler probably didn't slow him down any, either. Apparently our plans for the evening had been pretty similar. I wondered how they had even gotten home, hoping Steve hadn't been driving in his current state.

Just go to bed, I wished. I still felt drunk and dizzy.

They must have heard my wishes, as a moment later I heard Soda say, "Enjoy that couch, buddy" and then stumble loudly into his room and fall just as loudly into bed. I heard one, then two shoes hit the floor. I heard Steve turn the TV on and flop down on the couch. Great, I thought. Now I have to listen to that all night. Steve and I rarely had any patience for each other.

I lay in bed for a while, my head still spinning. Now it was bad even with my eyes shut. After about 15 minutes I realized I had to go to the bathroom again and hoped Steve was asleep. I had no desire to talk to him. I didn't hear any noise so I figured it was safe to go out. He's probably passed out, I thought, feeling slightly proud that, at least in my drunken state, I could still mostly remember everything that had happened. I had plans to harass Soda to no end tomorrow about how he had gotten home. I was sure he would have no idea. He probably wouldn't even remember where he had gone. I would never tell Darry about it, though. Poor Soda deserved some fun.

I opened the door and felt my way along the wall to the bathroom. I still didn't feel like I could stand up on my own without the danger of falling over. I went to the bathroom and tiptoed back through the living room. Looking at Steve on the couch, I figured it was probably safe to turn off the TV. He looked pretty well asleep. Darry would be mad if he and Pony came home and found the TV on in the middle of the night. He hated wasting electricity. I walked over to turn it off but as I bent over I lost my balance and fell into the couch. Steve's eyes snapped open. He looked right at me.

"Sorry. I was just turning off the TV."

He looked at me with unfocused eyes. "Man, he's loaded," I thought.

He sniffed at me. "You've been drinking." He looked amused. Obviously the tooth brushing hadn't disguised my breath well enough.

"Maybe, maybe not," I said. Who was he to judge, anyway?

"Perfect little Scout Curtis, out drinking. Wait 'til Darry hears about this." He was as smug as ever. I just didn't like him.

"Shut up, Steve. Go to sleep." I wasn't too worried about him telling Darry because I figured he probably wouldn't even remember this conversation in the morning. I tried to get up and lost my balance again and fell against the coffee table. Steve was suddenly standing over me. "You're drunk!" he said.

"No I'm not," I lied, "but you are."

"So what if I am?" He looked at me, and the look in his eyes was nothing I had ever seen before. It wasn't the Steve that just plain annoyed me anymore. Something about that look reminded me of the Socs I had seen in the park that night as they approached Pony and Johnny. It was scary, and suddenly I just wanted to get away from him. I got up and walked toward the door of my room, but suddenly Steve's hands were on me, spinning me around and pinning me against the wall.

"Steve!" I said, sharply. He had never touched me before. "Let me go!"

"You're trashed," he said. "Little ol' Scout Curtis. I always thought you were a little goody-two-shoes but you've been drinkin'. You're no better than the rest of us. You're just a drunk little greaser girl."

I tried to push him away but he was too strong, and, still drunk myself, I was too uncoordinated. I struggled against his grip.

"I'll scream. I'll wake up Soda!" I threatened him. He was still looking at me with something terrifying in his eyes.

"He's passed out. Go ahead, yell. He ain't gonna hear you. Your brother's a lightweight. All the birthday shots he did tonight, he's down for the count." He tightened his grip on my arms.

"I was truly scared of him now. "Soda!"" I yelled, as I struggled to break free. No answer.

"You see?" Steve taunted.

"Let me go!" I gathered all my strength and aimed my right knee at his groin. My brothers had taught me long ago that this was the surefire way to incapacitate a boy. But at the last moment he turned to the side and I hit him in the thigh instead. He still loosened his grip for a second and I tried to turn and run. But he grabbed me again before I could and slammed me even harder against the wall. This time I heard a crack as he pinned my back against the hall light switches with the weight of his entire body. Pain shot through my back and I cried out.

"Whassa matter Scout?" he slurred, "I thought you were a tough old greaser girl. Tough on you is way more attractive than that goody-two-shoes you usually act like."

"Steve, let go, you're hurting me." I panted. My back actually hurt so much that I was having trouble breathing.

"Taking your breath away, am I baby? You got a kiss for your Uncle Steve?" He forced his lips onto mine so hard that the back of my head bounced on the wall and hit twice. I tried to cry out, but had no breath. His mouth was covering mine and his tongue was in my mouth. I bit down on it, as hard as I could, which wasn't very hard, since I could hardly breathe.

Steve pulled away from me. "You little bitch," he whispered, and he slugged a hard right across my left cheek.

Suddenly I realized what was happening. He was drunk, he was going to hurt me, and there was no way I was strong enough to get away from him.

"Soda!" I screamed, though it seemed barely a whisper. No sound, no movement from his room.

Steve slammed his hand across my mouth and smuggled me around the corner into my bedroom. He shut the door and forced me against it, his hand still over my mouth. I bit him again. Again he pulled away and punched me, in the stomach this time. I doubled over and he pushed me down onto the bed.

"Oh, I see, you like to play rough, huh? I can work with that."

"Soda!" I yelled again. Then I saw the open window. "Ben!" I yelled. Maybe he would still be awake. Steve reached around into his back pocket and before I knew it there was a six-inch switchblade against my neck.

"You shut your fuckin' mouth, kid, or I swear to God I'll kill you. Your brothers would probably thank me for it, too. You're nothin' but a pain in the ass around here. Nobody wants you around." I didn't make a sound. I hardly could have anyway, yelling was making my back throb even more and I barely had any breath left.

"Yeah, that's right. You just shut up and let ol' Uncle Steve here show you what us greaser guys want from greasy girls like you." I could feel the knife against my neck, just starting to break the skin, blood tickling its way down the side of my neck. I decided then and there to stop yelling. I would fight him off silently. I just need to think, use my head. I can still get away, I thought. I struggled to formulate a plan despite my fuzzy thoughts.

Steve had me pinned on the bed, one of his hands pinning both of mine above my head and the other holding the knife to my neck.

"C' mon Scout, I seen you getting older. Don't you want yourself a real man touchin' you?" He put the knife, now dripping with my blood, down on the bedside table and slid his hand up under my shirt. I tried with everything I could to free my hands from the one still holding mine but his full body weight was on my wrists and I was helpless. I tried kicking him but he was so much taller than I was that when he sat down his weight completely immobilized my legs.

"Please, Steve. Please stop." I begged, whispering. "Please." I was crying. His hand reached up for my chest and settled there. He squeezed so hard I cried out.

"Shut up," he whispered in my ear. "You shut up. I'm gonna show you what a real man wants, what your brother shoulda been gettin' tonight if that little bitch o' his hadn't taken off."

Suddenly, in the midst of my terror, I had an idea. "Steve… But Evie…" I thought maybe if he thought I might tell his girlfriend about this he would stop.

"Oh don't you worry. I already had her tonight. She don't give me no trouble like you. She ain't so fresh and young as you though, either. You feel real nice. And you ain't never gonna say a word about this to her or anyone else or you'll be finding yourself a new home. Nobody'll ever believe your stories."

He lay his body on top of mine and, knowing I was now completely pinned under him, he released my hands. I tried to hit at his back, to punch him, but I was weak and breathless from pain and fear and on top of everything the room was spinning on me again. His hands were everywhere suddenly, all over me. He pressed his face into mine and forced his tongue into my mouth and I thought I might actually suffocate. He tasted like cigarettes and beer and I thought for a moment that I might throw up again. I squirmed and tried to struggle until I had no more strength. Finally he pulled his face away from mine and moved it to my neck, He lowered his mouth and sucked on my neck, biting hard enough to break the skin again, on the opposite side from which he had cut me with the knife.

"No," I begged quietly. "Please." I was sobbing.

"Yes," he whispered roughly, as he bit at my ear. "You want it."

I felt the knife on my neck again and his face in my ear. Just then I heard the unmistakable sound of Darry's truck through my open window. I waited until I heard the door slam and gathered all the air I could to scream. He must have known, however, because I heard a whispered curse, felt him reach back, and before I could make a sound, a fist came from nowhere and hit me in the temple. Everything went black.

________________________________

A/N: I know. Go ahead and hate me. I am braced for the reviews. I told you all along it was going to get complicated. I promise I will write a really nice Steve story soon. But, in this story, he just isn't nice.

Just FYI, some statistics:

15% of sexual assault and rape victims are under age 12.

29% are age 12-17.

7% of girls in grades 5-8 and 12% of girls in grades 9-12 said they had been sexually abused.

93% of juvenile sexual assault victims know their attacker.

4 in 10 assaults take place at the victim's home.

In 1 in 3 sexual assaults, the perpetrator was intoxicated.

Statistics are from the RAINN website.