Disclaimer: I don't own the Outsiders, or the song "Carry On My Wayward Son" (For all you SPN lovers out there!)
A/N: Thank you all so much for the reviews. I hope you enjoy this chapter!
Would you guys like it if I maybe updated Thursday or Wednesday? If I do that then I'll post Dear Winston on Sunday instead of then. It's up for debate. Read the chapter and decide.
Once I rose above the noise and confusion. Just to get a glimpse beyond this illusion. I was soaring ever higher, but I flew too high. Though my eyes could see I still was a blind man. Though my mind could think I still was a mad man. I hear the voices when I'm dreaming. I can hear them say,
New York was a hell of a place. Don't get me wrong, Tulsa is pretty boss, but New York, man. Nothing beats the city with streets of gold and dead rats. Nothing.
It'd snow. Real snow. A lot of people here haven't even seen snow before.
We'd go in the streets, all of us neighbor kids. We'd build these forts on either side of the road and hunch behind them. We'd have snowball fights until it got dark out and make snowmen that the older neighbors thought were "disgraceful". They meant an awful lot to us through. Those were times when we were kids. We had no problems. Just snowmen with penises.
I miss that apartment on the West side by the Drug Store and Raymond's Flowers. I miss it a lot.
As usual, I don't knock when I go into the apartment on the top floor with the cross on the door. I could smell her on the first floor. She's here. So I go right on in.
"Hello, darling, Daddy's home!"
The sink's running when I first come in, it suddenly stops once I speak.
There are new decorations up. More pictures and God shit everywhere and scripture. She's even got some flowers in a vase on the dresser. Though, inside of the norm, there's a fresh bottle of happy pills right beside her bed.
She's not wearing heels like normal, and I don't hear her when she comes in the room. I'm sitting on her bed, reading one of the cheesy motivation quotes she has framed up, when she stops and stands in front of me.
"Character is like a tree and reputation like a shadow. The shadow is what we think of it the tree is the real thing. What the hell is this- oh fuck!"
Her stringy blonde hair is matted. Her nose has a small pool of dried blood that once trailed to her open mouth. She grunts softly as she lifts her head up. Tears trickle form her blood-shot eyes and coat the purple bruises underneath. They run down until they meet her swollen lips and more dried blood, rewetting it.
I stand up, confused and angry. Her skin's so delicate and purple, blue, and red. I slowly take it in my hands, feeling her tears as they hit my hand. "What-"
"What do you think?"
She pulls away, forcefully, but soft enough so I can't hurt her. "No! No, I don't know!"
Her small kitchen is in the same room. She struggles to bend over to the bottom shelf of the fridge. She comes up, moaning in pain, with two bottles of beer.
She pops the cap off, sliding mine to me. "Think hard. Think of something I did that I shouldn't have. I know the list is long, but this is something I did for someone else. You know. It's your story after all."
"You didn't."
"She came to see me about two weeks ago. I-I didn't know I was telling her that much. I was stupid to think someone wasn't listening. They were outside the coffee shop, waiting for a chance to jump. So they waited until I least expected it...I was coming home from church. From fucking church."
Without thinking, she lets her hair cover her face. Her short sleeves reveal her arms that match her face. Pulling the back of her shirt up, I can see the extent of the beating.
She hisses as she puts it back in place. "Don't, Dally. Just don't."
"What do you mean don't?" I demand. "I'm going to kill him! Mark my fucking words, Sylvia. I will murder this son-of-a-bitch. He thinks he runs this town? Ha, well he's got another thing coming. Where is he?"
Her breathing picks up and she drinks more and more. "I said don't."
Normally she'd be screaming. The old Sylvia would be throwing a fit. She'd throw herself in my arms, telling me all about it with her screeching meow. Then she'd make me kill whoever did this to her and she'd watch. She was stronger then, I think. Now she's broken down and quiet. Sylvia Mason has never in her life been quiet.
"This has nothing to do with you!" I shout, banging my fists against the table. She jumps. "They ain't got no right to do what they did! Look at you! What did you say to her?"
She rubs her face, trying to block out the yelling. I know I shouldn't, but it's all I know. "I just told her some things about Maggot and Dale. Nothing I thought..."
My teeth slide against each other. "Where is she?"
"I-I don't know. We haven't talked since then."
"They were following her. You know that? That's how they knew you were at the coffee shop with her. They're following her. They're going to kill her! Tell me where the fuck they are!"
She winces the louder I get. Her cries get louder and I breathe a little and go into the bathroom.
"Here," I say, coming out with a concoction of pain meds. My own special recipe. "Put the beer away and take these. They'll numb the pain for a while. You go see a doctor?"
She shakes her head as she dry swallows the pills. "No money."
I dig in my pocket. "Here." I throw the waded bills out on the table. It's dirty money. They did this, might as well use their money to pay to fix it. "Go see a doctor as soon as I leave. No, I'll take you myself. You gotta think though, Syl."
The depth of her scars comes out. She bends over the table, struggling to breathe and take all the pain put upon her.
The more I look at her, the more I want blood.
The more I worry.
She sighs. She looks innocent. No make-up. Her hair's not done. She's in ratty baggy clothes. She's a different person that's destroyed her old body. "They were saying they were going to the shop."
"Rick's shop?"
"I think so. I'm not sure, Dally. I'm just not sure. They hit my head. They hit my head!"
She's broken. Her back bends catlike, and she breaks. Her tears hit the stained counter as she sobs out. The cries aren't loud and she's not screaming.
It's then I realize how much she's been through - how much I've probably put her through in the years. And I blame myself for something else. Did I do this to her? Did I send her over the edge so badly that she wanted to kill herself? That she went to a mental hospital for three months?
If it weren't for me, she'd still be the girl with big pink bows, long skirts, and a innocent mind. Instead, Sylvia Mason is beaten. She's beaten because of me and what I told her.
I rest my hand on her back, trying to coach her to stand up. It's odd, but I don't know of anything else to do. Everything seems like my fault. It is. Might be time to start trying to fix the things I've broken.
She gets up right away and embraces me in a hug. She hugs tighter than I do, but as long as I'm a warm body, I don't think she cares if I touch her at all.
We're close. Her head is below my chin and when she looks up; I already know what she's thinking. She lifts her head upwards, kissing me slowly, waiting for me to kiss her back.
She's tender and hurt so I don't push her hard, just enough so she knows to stop, and she does. We stand there, the same position as before, only this time she can't look at me.
She rubs her swollen, beaten lips. "Dally...I just wanted to see-"
"My car's out front. Let's go."
She doesn't say another word, just goes to get her coat and purse and stands by the door. "You're in love with her aren't you? You never stopped."
I grab my jean jacket, and follow her down the stairs that are coated with her blood. Today, I'll make them coated with someone else's blood. Someone's dead blood.
"Dallas!"
A cigarette dangles from my lips. I let smoke roll off the corner of my mouth.
"Dallas! I know you can hear me! Hey, hey, wait up!"
After I take Sylvia to the hospital, I decide to take a stroll through town - go see some friends. She made me stay with her while the doctors examined and taped things. I wasn't really paying attention. I was plotting.
An hour later, they admit her for dehydration of all things. That cost Dale a pretty penny.
Five bruised ribs, two black eyes, pop eye vessel or some shit, broken nose, busted lip.
When asked what happened, she responded the standard way: "I was at a party. A girl and I shared some words. We were both drunk. I don't even remember her name." And no one asked another question.
I pause, taking a second to flick the ash off my stick and blow smoke from the corner of my mouth. "What do you want, Pete? I got some shit I gotta take care of. Might wanna make it quick or I might take my anger out on your baby face."
He's out of breath by the time he reaches me. He acts as if he ran across town to get to me. "I...Oh God you're fast. Listen, I need to talk to you man-to-man."
"Oh this should be rich."
He coughs, still searching for air. "I think you should leave Danni alone. I-I saw you with her at the hospital. She doesn't need you to bother her. So just leave, alright?"
I find a light post and lean against it. I get a fresh cigarette out and continue to listen.
"I'm better for her. I promise I won't hurt her. You just need to stay away."
Casually, I blow smoke in the direction of his face. "Like pretending to like her for Dale ain't gonna hurt her."
"This has nothing to do with Dale! Why do people keep on saying that? Look, Dale doesn't tell me a lot of things. We don't even talk about Danni. I met Danni in Florida. I had no idea who she was."
"Sure you didn't."
"I did not pretend to like her! I love her! I swear!"
He's like, what, five? He doesn't know what love is. His mommy still dresses him in sweaters and slacks.
I take a few minutes to enjoy my cigarette before speaking again. "Listen, kid, I got a lot of shit I got to do today. Now I don't give two fucks if you talk to Dale or not. You're just a fly to me. Just get one thing straight: You go near Curtis again, and I'll hide your body so well that your grandchildren will still be looking for it."
He, of course, follows when I leave. He yells but I tone most of it out. It's things I've heard before and I've got a bigger fish I need to catch and fry.
"If you really loved her you'd stay away from Dale too, ya know!"
I stop this time. I had a few minutes. "Alright kid," I grab him by the shirt, shoving him into the brick wall beside us, not caring who sees us from the street, "you wanna play tough guy, let's have it. Hit me."
"Put me down!"
"Hit me!"
"No!"
"Alright then."
I drive my fist into his nose. It's not hard enough to break but blood pours out faster than I've ever seen. Of course he's a crier too. As soon as I release him it's all: "my nose! You broke my nose!" Boo fucking who.
Watching from the comfort of the light post, I smirk. "Hey, kid. If you loved her so much, and I use that term loosely because I'm about to throw up if I think about it anymore, why did you let her brother join up with Dale?"
Blood is all over his pretty boy sweater. It looks like that one's ruined. He gazes up, still holding his nose. "What?"
"Don't play dumb. I'm getting real sick of that act. You ain't dumb. I hear you're a fucking boy genius, so act like it."
There's a pool under his feet. He notices it and starts to get sick. "I don't know anything about her brother, alright? All I know is that Dale talks about him being real important."
"And you just so happened not to ask why your girlfriend's brother is so important?"
"I'm not Dale's right hand man," he says. "He doesn't tell me anything. It's not my place to ask. You know how it is. You stay in your place or you pay for it. Just leave me alone, please? I don't know anything about this and if I talk about Dale anymore you know that I'm dead. I promise though, I'd never do that to Danni. Never!"
The noise around us stops and a blue 1966 DeVille pulls up, right on cue.
Like an old gangster movie, black shoes swing around all sides of the car and boys in black step out from every end.
Peter stands up straight, like the Sargent is here and he wants to be on his best behavior so he won't get spanked. He continues to stand like this until Dale parks himself in front of us.
He only pays attention to me, so Peter's perfect posture goes unnoticed. "Hello, Dallas."
"Dale."
"H-Hi, Dale," Peter pops up.
Dale's men stand behind him. Everyone's there but Doogie. I wonder why he isn't with the other dogs, but I don't ask. There isn't any time. I liked him the best. It's a shame really.
"So Dally," Dale says, rubbing his chin and stepping up on the sidewalk. "I think we are in need of a talk, don't you? I thought our last one would have been enough, but I guess not."
"Guess not."
The streets are empty. We're on the backside of town on a Thursday afternoon, but no one is here.
Dale hums a little. "So, what's the problem here, Dally? I hear you've been questioning what we are trying to do here. You know the rules and the agreement. Maggot won't be too happy to hear about this."
"So you gonna be the one to tell him?" I ask. "Or should I call him up myself? You know, I just might. We're in the need of a good talk. Maybe I should ask him how he feels on a group of overgrown apes beating up on a girl."
Dale glares behind me as Peter has taken to hiding. "Whatcha' doin' Peter?"
Peter looks to me for help, then at his shoes. "Dally and I were just talkin'."
"'Bout what?"
"Just...nothing. The weather."
Dale takes a step around me so his target is now Peter. "What happened to your nose? Must have been some talk you were having with Dally here."
"Leave the kid alone," I bark. "We're talking here, Dale. Peter, scram."
He doesn't hesitate, not even to look to Dale for approval. He knows this isn't his fight, but he has one coming soon.
Dale walks back over to me, his head in the air. "You know how this works, Dally. We ain't too fond of rats here."
"She didn't do anything," I hiss.
Dale's slicked back hair shines as the setting sun hits it right. He pushes his lips together, thinking. "What's the real problem here, Dal? Don't tell me you're all pissed about some cheap whore getting a little scratch."
"I'm done doing you favors," I say through my teeth. "I'm not your pet, Dale. I'm not doing anymore. I'm done. I wasn't put on to do this. "
"Oh but you were, Dally. Don't you remember?"
It's just the two of us on the sidewalk. His goons are still on the street, watching with conspicuous eyes and toothpicks in their mouths. "I'm done."
He hums again, thinking that over, not liking it. "I don't think so."
"You're not my boss."
"Does the real problem have something to do with that little pet you have? The Curtis girl, right? Is she the problem here, Dally? 'Cause I'm sure Maggot will be happy to know all about her."
I tighten up my fists. I breathe slowly out of my nose to control my anger. "Don't touch her. You touch her, I'll kill all of you, I swear to God, Dale! We ain't fuckin' around here! Leave her alone and leave me alone because I'm done working for you."
"I don't think I'll do that. You know what I will do? I'll take that nice piece of ass for a ride. That is, before I gut her and feed her to my dog."
I can't breathe anymore. It's gone too far. My heart attacks first. I get one hit in before my arms are pinned back and there's a tight fist driving into my stomach over and over.
There's got to be eight guys holding me back. It's all they can do to hold me there, but they manage.
I can't get loose. My blood starts to pour on the sidewalk beside Peter's and the hits keep coming.
I don't plead or beg. I shut my eyes and try to block out the pain. It's been two minutes. I think I can make it to five. I just wonder if they'll let me go that long. Everything hurts and I'm not standing on my feet anymore. My lower have has gone limp, and the rest of my body isn't too far behind.
It's then I realized all this isn't some movie. There was no girl or Prince Charming. Just a villain and a story I couldn't finish but I sure did start it.
So as Dale and his crew give me hit after hit, I think about how this all started, and how badly I wanted it all to end. I wanted everything to go back to normal but I know it's not possible. Everything's too far gone. There have been too many lies, too many broken hearts, too many lives.
I'm not stronger than them. I'm not strong at all.
Then, everything just went black, and I was done.
Carry on my wayward son. There'll be peace when you are done. Lay your weary head to rest. Don't you cry no more. Carry on my wayward son. There'll be peace when you are done. Lay your weary head to rest. Don't you cry no more.