Thanks to everyone who read the first chapter, I realize there was a lot of grammar/spelling mistakes you had to stumble across- sorry 'bout that. And a special thanks to charliewalflower and Pediophopia for reviewing! This chapter is dedicated to you two.

A/N: Okie dokie… In this chapter, time skips ahead about a week or so. Girlie has had time to reflect and face some things, so that is mainly what is happening. I need a filler, and also, I need this chapter as a ground layer to give you a sense of what exactly is going on inside of this girl. The next chapter would be a little irrational and uncharacteristic if I didn't write this. I'm sorry if it is boring, but it must be done.

Chapter 2~

The bruise on my face stung horribly, or it should. I got used to the feel of the sharp tug under my eye whenever I would talk or shake my head, any movement that would upset the tender flesh. The pain is barely noticeable to me. The color had faded from gruesome black to a sickening yellow-green combination. I looked like someone the size of Darry had took off and nailed me a few good times. Still, no one had noticed. In fact, no one paid any attention to me at all.

I had spent most of this week at home because Darry and Soda was afraid someone might think I was being abused or was a troublesome teenager. At first, I couldn't see the problem. I mean, it was a bruise not a gash or anything serious like that; nothing that would cause the state to take me away. We were Greasers, we got into scrapes all the time that banged us up pretty bad. Even the girls caught some knuckle to knuckle action. Of course, my confusion was before I had looked in the mirror. My reflection wasn't something I thought I could stomach for awhile. As it goes, I didn't really have a choice. My appearance snuck up on me like irony, and I really wasn't expecting it.

It was bad. The bruise I once considered simple was black, not purple, black. A cut was protruding from a small hill of swollen skin, stuck in the middle of all the black, and the rise of it made my eye look almost shrunken. There was some red and blue, too, but I don't mention them cause they were so unnoticeable in comparison to the dominate darker color that there was really no reason in pointing them out.

He hit me twice. I guess I had forgotten.

Another cut lay morose and irritated under my chin. A pink line, thick and oozing, stretched from my right ear to the middle of my neck. The blade he used went a little deeper then I remembered. The girl that looked at me from the sleek surface of the mirror didn't look like someone my peers would recognize. The girl in the mirror was a victim of something.

I was right when thinking that I couldn't handle the sight of my reflection, even if it was originally for a different reason other than appearance. All I can recall after that-the first initial shock of what had been done to me- was throwing up then waking up. I guess I passed-out.

That was five days ago. Sunday.

It was almost eight days ago that I was nearly raped. Thursday.

This morning I walked out of the house with worry and stress weighing on my mind. Worry because I didn't want people to suspect what Darry didn't want people to suspect: that I was being beaten or acting like a hood, cause people to talk and get the social workers curious. Stress because I had missed five days of classes. Darry said that I didn't have to go to school today if I didn't feel like it. After all, it was Friday and he would've understood. But I just couldn't take it anymore. The sympathetic stares, the attempts at trying to get me to "open up", the single act of sitting in my room alone with nothing but memories of groping hands to keep me company…I had all that I could stand and I couldn't stand no more. They were trying to relate to me, but they couldn't and I wished they would stop trying. They were trying to force something out of me that I just wasn't ready to give. All of their talking and glances just made it worse, made me feel even more violated than what I dared to admit at the time.

I had a lapse after I saw my reflection, and I truly believe that I had gone temporarily crazy. I would just sit for hours on the bed Soda and I shared with my legs bent and my arms folded around them, rocking back and forth. It became a natural position for me. As natural as breathing. Both acts kept my body alive. Breathing explains itself. The other…well…the only way I can describe it is this: a desperate attempt to physically keep myself together. My insides were falling out, I knew they were. The fact that I couldn't see them made no difference! They were falling out and I couldn't let anyone else see them. I wouldn't let anyone near me for days. God forbid if they tried to touch me. Sodapop had to sleep on the couch. I was trapped within my own world for what could've been months it felt like. Until one night I fell asleep, dreaming of something I have no recollection of. The sound of screaming woke me, my own, and I found that I was in the arms of my favorite person in the entire world. I panicked at first, trashing about with violent vigor to get away from those arms. But Soda just held me tighter, whispering that he would never let me go and that I could fight all I wanted, he would still stay. I gave up after a few more minutes and clung to him like a vice. That night, three days ago, I cried my heart out. Now I'm drained, emotionally incapable of the weakest of feelings. I wonder if this is how Dallas lives?

I told you I went crazy. But it wasn't only because I was nearly raped. It was the fact that now I would have something else to torment me. Fear. It wasn't fair! Wasn't the death of my parents, the constant worry that we won't have the money to pay the bills or even eat, and having the complete strangers of social services breathing down our necks enough?

It looks like all the worrying from this morning was for nothing. Like I said, people didn't notice me today. Not my absence from school. Not the still healing cut under my chin or the bruise on my face- the bruise that is now throbbing from aggravation. All day long I managed to miraculously avoid unwanted attention, succeeding nearly flawlessly. It's amazing that one argument could attract the eyes of so many people; amazing that this stupid spat would cause others to wonder when I was so sure it would be something else entirely, like my face being a mess.

"But why don't you wanna see me anymore?"

I almost felt sorry for Boe Brannon. The whine in his voice was making it easier to get over it, though. Boe was a Senior. He had jet-black hair and pale-blue eyes, standing at a decent 6'1. Being tuff made him popular among the Greaser boys, and being gorgeous made him popular among all the girls. For four months he had been sending me notes, batting his eyes, and using every charming catch phrase he could conjure to get me to go out with him. I had spent those same months trying to figure out what I'm suppose to do with my new curves and the male attention I was getting because of them. It all just seemed to spring upon me over night, and I was a little overwhelmed, as you can imagined. To say that I was confused wouldn't be pushing it, either.

I'll admit that going to Angela Shepard wasn't the best source I could've went to for advice, but she was the only girl friend I had. The fact that she had experience with such things made it a good idea at the time.

Angela was a beautiful dark-haired girl, with springy curls that made everyone jealous. She was a true Greaser broad, though, and had a reputation. Not that she minded. Greaser girls are proud of their reputations in bed the same way our guys are proud of being tuff or getting locked in the cooler. It was watching her and girls like her that taught me what flirting and sex really were.

The other girls took it upon themselves to tell me all that they knew- all the things that were out of the question to go to my brothers about- and tried to convince me to break out of my shell. But I just couldn't really help it. I'm incredibly shy. Angela noticed Boe's efforts and uselessly urged me to go out with him. I had told her that she knew why I didn't want to risk it with him- he was experienced and had quite a reputation himself. I had only been kissed once before. It was with Johnny, my best friend. I had asked him to do it because I was sick of being teased by Two-Bit; I just wanted to get it over with. I feel bad about it now. He was so nervous and wouldn't speak to me for a week after it happened.

That is when Angela suggested I practiced first…with Curly. Well, you know what happened after that. I was waning on my decision to give in to Boe's advances, but wasn't entirely convinced. Boe could have any girl he wanted, and probably had at some point. What did he want with me? Angela told me it was because I was a virgin and easily taught, and the fact that I carried the blessed Curtis genes helped. I had blushed at that. I never thought of myself as beautiful, especially compared to my brothers.

Angela confronted me once about me being a virgin. I didn't deny it because I didn't know that I should have. Being a virgin was never a big deal to me, I mean, I didn't mind that I was one cause I never understood why losing your virginity was so important. Quite honestly, I don't think I want to know. What I have learned, I've had to learn fast. All Greasers have is our reputations, though, without one it seems like you have nothing.

Finally, I gave in to them. I needed to learn about this kind of stuff, and Boe Brannon would be a great teacher. And he was. We've been going out on dates for about five months, most of which ended up as a make-out session in the bed of his truck, but we weren't anything official. I couldn't risk the gang finding out. We hadn't had sex and I knew he was getting sick of me.

I was snapped out of wherever my thoughts dragged me to. That was another one of my flaws- I was always spacing out. "Daydreaming" is what Darry called it, especially when he was angry at me for forgetting something or not paying as much attention as he believed I should have been.

"Girlie, come on babe." Boe smiled that crooked grin I thought I was starting to love. It only made me sick now. He tried to put his hands on my waist but I took a small step back, exterminating his hands-on tactic. I felt my chest tighten. I didn't want him touching me.

"Don't touch me."

"Why not? Ya' don't seem to mind when you have your top off in the back of my truck."

I heard the gasps and snickers coming from the small crowd of spectators that had gathered to see what would happen. They were all sheep. They lived to follow each other, so why should I care what they thought? I didn't, but the close proximity in which they were standing to Boe and me was making me anxious. I could feel their body heat and smell whatever they had chosen that morning to spray or rub all over themselves. I felt my chest constrict just a little tighter; their perfume and cologne was like breathing in fumes.

Boe had given me his black, leather jacket during our second date. He said he like the thought of it smelling like me. I fumbled clumsily with my locker combination. When I finally succeeded, I quickly opened the red metal door, grabbed the disgusting jacket, wound it up in a black ball, then threw it in his face. " I hope you enjoy having it back." I slammed my locker, adding a dramatic flair to the small speech I was about to deliver. " Don't call me. If you see me in the hallway or in the street, don't talk to me. Don't ever think that you can just touch me ever again! I don't want your jacket and I don't want you. Get that through your thick head!"

His eyes were blazing and resentful, but the angry fire there would soon burn out with his next conquest. I looked straight into the light blue of those eyes, wanting to reach their depths, only to find that there wasn't any. He was as shallow as a puddle. All that he was was laid nonchalantly on the surface. I knew what he wanted from me. For a time I was willing to give it to him, even wanting to. Not anymore. I saw him shake with a rage I didn't believe he felt before punching a locker. I turned to walk away, ignoring the lingering stares as I made my quiet exit.

'No, definitely not him', I thought.

I slid out the rust covered door that lead to the school's parking lot. Sun rays filtered through heavy, purple clouds, bending light to dance across my face. Even though it was below 45 degrees, I basked in the warmth that small bit of sun provided me. All across the worn-out blacktop of the parking lot, students filtered to and fro, getting in and out of cars and buses, yelling between the small distances that separated them from another, and smoking as they leaned against whatever sturdy object they could find.

Angela was sitting next to Curly in their older brother's car. She tossed her perfect hair over her shoulder as she winked at her newest boyfriend. I finally caught her gaze. Angela smiled brightly and waved. I shook my head in amusement, waving back. Curly saw me from where I was loitering on the top step under the door I recently exited. He didn't look happy to see me, not that I blamed him. We did use him mercilessly and the only thing he got out of it was a 20 minute make-out and a fist full of Darrell Curtis. I averted my gaze then to his older brother.

Tim Shepard was a hood. Not the type of hood that most Greasers claimed to be, but an actual hood. He was rivaled with Dallas Winston himself, so you could say he was dangerous. He was staring at me unabashedly, his dark eyes full of an emotion that made me shiver in a most unpleasant way. Tim had been trying to get with me since I started hanging out with Angela. He didn't like me, I knew that, he just wanted to screw me. He finally released me from his gaze, starting his car and backing out of the lot.

I breathed a quick sigh of relief. Having another hood trying to get up my skirt was something I really didn't want to deal with. It made me wish I wasn't a virgin anymore; if I gave Tim what he wanted, maybe the others what stop treating me like I was adventure to explore. I would have absolutely nothing for them to try to take if I did. 'If I had gave Boe what he wanted months ago, maybe that Soc wouldn't have done what he did either.' I knew it was a stupid thought, but I didn't dismiss it. You can't blame me for thinking it. There is some truth behind that irrational reasoning. Just a little. Maybe.

The students were starting to clear out. I let my eyes wander over each face, curious about what they thought when they were alone in their rooms. What were their worries or fears? Did any of them have the same ones I did or are we all totally alone to deal with those things? Two-Bit's car sat alone on the farthest corner of the pavement. I wasn't allowed to walk home by myself anymore, even during the day. Not that I wanted to.

By the time Two-Bit and Steve waltz out the doors, my butt was numb. "What took you?" I asked standing.

Two-Bit resisted the urge to throw his arm over my shoulders, knowing I didn't like being touched anymore. I already blew up on him once this week. "Sorry, Darlin'. Me and ole Steve here got detention."

"Again?"

"Of course! I gotta beat last years record don't I?"

"Can't deny you that honor." I said with a small smile.

He threw his head back and laughed. Gosh, I missed him. After being in self-isolation for a week, someone like Two-Bit Mathews is exactly what I needed. We climbed in his beat up car, careful not to get in too quickly, afraid it might rock to the left and detach another wire. Not that it would matter with Steve here to fix it but I really don't want to stay here staring at this parking lot for another minute. Two-bit finally got the thing started. We where headed in a different direction from my house, but I didn't have to ask. I know where we're going, The DX, and I can't wait to see Sodapop. I was getting lost in my daydreams again, thinking about 'A Tell Tale Heart', not noticing anything that was going on around me until Steve said something that caught my attention.

"What was that?" I asked.

"None of your business."

Steve was Soda'a best buddy, has been since I was born, and that is the only reason I tolerate him. He hates me. I never understood why, but it's okay cause I hate him too. I want to hurt him for some of the things he has said to me, rip all that swirly, greased-up hair from his head. He blamed me for what happened Thursday, said that if I wasn't such a slut then it would have never happened in the first place. Darry and Dally had to rip me off of him. I had broken his nose and finger, gave him a black eye. It wasn't my fault. All I saw was red. I felt better when I glanced over to see Johnny on top of him, pounding away at his excuse for a face. That's my Johnny. My protector and best friend I'll ever have. It was one of the most bizarre things I've ever seen Johnny do, ever. He could barely look at someone hitting someone else-even if it wasn't him that was on the receiving eng of the hit-without wincing, and it mostly had to do with his parents beating on him all the time. Being beat half-conscious by a group of drunk Soc's didn't help, either. But…he did it for me. Just me. Steve was drunk when he said it and apologized later. I wont forget it, no matter how sincere he looked when he said, "I'm sorry."

I glared a hole in the back of Randle's head, waiting for it to explode simply by the will of my mind. My concentration was broken, however, when Two-Bit answered my question.

"There's a party at Buck's tonight. Not one of the usual, but a big bash for winning that Rodeo Cup last week. There's gonna be lots of bubb and blondes, so I'm definitely going. You should come too, Girlie. You need a little fun."

I was stunned by Two-Bit's concern but I didn't show it. Instead I just shrugged, ignoring Steve's protests.

'Getting drunk sounds too good right now to care.'

Well, there is chapter two! It was LOADS difficult so I would MORE than LOVE your responses :D Please o' please!

Oh, and once again, sorry for any and all mistakes!