A couple days had passed since the gun shooting. The wound from the bullet was healing fine, with no sign of infection - thanks to Soda. After he'd stopped the bleeding, he had stitched the wound closed; then re-dressed it and applied antiseptic cream morning and night, and told me to keep the area dry.

When I woke, the bright sun was shining through my blinds. I could feel a headache coming on, with a slight throbbing already to the front of my head. I grabbed my jeans from the floor, from yesterday and shrugged them on.

Then opened the top drawer to my bedside, pulling out the half full bottle of aspirin. I always kept an extra stash in there for when I needed them. I shook some from the bottle into my hand, and tipped them into my mouth - without looking at how many, swallowed them dry. Then made my way out into the kitchen.

The house was quiet, with nobody else here. Both my brothers had left early this morning for work. I opened the door to the fridge, looking at all the contents - unable to decide, then settled for a can of Pepsi. Darry surely would go ballistic if he saw me drinking this first thing in the morning, I thought.

I popped the tab on the can, taking a mouthful - but then... what he doesn't know won't kill him.

I glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall, it was already quarter to eleven. I headed back to my room, throwing on a clean t-shirt and stuffed my cigarette pack in my back pocket. Then retraced my steps back through the house, but heading for the front door this time - as I started for the porch steps, I heard the screen door slam from behind me.

I strolled along the footpath, drinking my Pepsi - not having much to do, or go. I could go see Soda, I thought - sometimes when their not too busy, he'll let me help with the car their working on. I wasn't much good with cars like Soda or Steve... but I liked helping Soda, and he didn't mind my being there.

I turned the next corner, heading in the direction of the DX. I slowed my pace a little, and reached to my back pocket, for my cigarettes - and lit up. I took a long drag of my smoke, letting the nicotine fill my lungs, then downed the last mouthful of my Pepsi.

I was almost a block from the DX, when I heard a car speed up from the road behind me. I noticed, as the grumbling of the engine grew closer, the car slowed to a sudden crawl - almost idling - as they slowly trailed me. I felt my back pocket, reassuring me my blade was there. I glanced over my left shoulder, to see the same car that had pulled into the DX station the other day.

Shit.

I wondered vaguely, if maybe I could out run them. The idea sounding good in my head... but in all reality - a cars always faster. They pulled up beside me and cut the engine, with three Soc's getting out. They started towards me. I backed up away from them; but without much effort they had me surrounded - making no escape.

I looked them over, sizing them up, and knew the fight was over before it had even began. I'm not saying I'm not a good fighter, or nothin'. Darry says I'm a real good fighter for my age. But three against one just ain't fair, and these guys had to be at least 16, or 17, and a lot bigger than me.

"What do you want?" I asked, sounding braver than I felt.

"We want payback, for the damage you caused to my car." I looked to the dark haired boy, whose car Curly and I had slashed. There was no forgiveness in his features, whatsoever.

To say I was scared - is an understatement - my palms were clammy, and my heart pounded, heavily. I get like that when I get real scared. I wasn't sure what they had in mind, and I didn't want to find out, either - but it didn't look like I had much say.

Curly and his stupid ideas. Why I hang with him sometimes, I don't know - and yet I have to now deal with the aftermath.

From my right, the blond headed Soc took a step towards me - I backed away, as the other Soc to my left grabbed me roughly by the arm. I pulled, and struggled against him, trying to break his hold on me - I had almost freed myself, before one landed a hard punch to my right cheek. I didn't have time to recover before the next punch was thrown, hitting my jaw.

I looked up to see his fist coming at me again - blocking it, I threw my own fist to the Soc's stomach, making him double over.

I received another hard punch, to my own gut - knocking the wind right outta me. As I was doubled over trying to catch my breath, it gave them an advantage - one of them throwing painful punches to my ribs, as the Soc who held me tightened his grip. Suddenly he let go, forcefully shoving me forwards. I straightened up, noticing they were reaching for their back pockets.

I pulled out my blade, holding it in a firm but loose grip. Dally had shown me a couple months back, before he died - he taught me to, always hold the blade outwards and away from you, but never grip too tight.

"Let's teach the kid, not to mess with other people's property. Whatta you say Dave?" the dark haired one snarled. He held his blade pointed out, towards me - the silver metal glittered in the sun, as the light danced from its polished surface, like tiny dancers taken to stage.

"Yeah, I think the kid needs to be taught a lesson."

I gulped, hard - trying to stay tough; which wasn't an easy feat, with three blades being pointed at you.

"We'll slice him good, like he did the tyres," the other one said, stepping towards me. I backed away, as he took a swing at me - missing me by a bare inch. But as I was focused on avoiding his blade, I didn't see the Soc to my left move forward - slashing me across my upper arm - leaving about a 3 inch long gash.

I wildly swung my blade in his direction, nicking his hand as he was pulling away. He immediately clutched at his hand, swearing.

Before I noticed - a fist connect with my right cheek again, knocking me back. The Soc to my right grabbed me roughly - with the tips of his fingers digging into the flesh of my upper arm, as someone sliced their blade down the side of my left cheek - it all happened in a matter of seconds.

Then they left me - standing in the middle of the street in a daze, trying to figure out what'd just happened. Their car sped off down the road.

I could taste metallic in my mouth, and wondered vaguely if they'd sliced all the way through. I could already feel blood seeping from the gash, and it stung something awful. I brought my hand up to my cheek - wiping, my palm came back smeared with thick red, blood.

The gash to my arm, just as painful as my cheek - was bleeding heavily, with blood trailing right down to my wrist. I felt sore all over, and slightly dizzy. The punches I received to my face didn't help matters, either.

Well... I have to go see Soda now, I thought. Turning back in the direction to the DX, I continued down the sidewalk in a slow but steady pace, holding my right hand firmly over the gash and willed myself not to pass out before I got there.

Every step was painful... with my vision wavering in and out of focus, as tiny dots of red coloured the pavement. The sign for the DX had now come into view, and I fastened up my pace a little.

Steve spotted me first, he was over by the shed looking frustrated, as he peered beneath the hood of a car he was working on - as soon as I walked in, he looked up. Collecting up the already stained rag, that had been draped over the cars front end - he left the shed in a jog, whilst wiping the grease from his hands.

"Soda!" Steve called loudly, as he passed the shop front.

I staggered towards the pumps as Soda dashed towards the open doorway; at first he looked unsure as to why Steve had called him, but seeing Steve's hurry - worry edged his expression. I watched as his eyes moved past Steve to me - in the split second before he took off in a sprint - I could see the fear.

Steve reached me first, he teared his eyes over my wounded flesh, as one would an injured soldier. "You wanna tell me what the hell happened, kid?"

But I didn't have time to answer, before Soda had me caught up in his arms, pressing me against his chest. I leaned into him, smelling the familiar scent of grease and gas, as he held me tight.

Though the comfort didn't last long, as I felt a hand pressing against my bloody wound. I jerked my arm away from the touch, with a hiss, leaning back from Soda's embrace. Steve carefully took a step back, as he held the partially greased rag in his grip, that now sported a crimson stain.

"We need to stop the bleeding, kid." He stated, guiding the rag towards my wound again.

I hastily stepped from his reach, and out of Soda's hold. Only noticing the smeared blood, soaking into the azure material beneath the collar of Soda's loosely thrown on DX shirt, and knew immediately it had come from my bleeding cheek.

"It's ok, Ponyboy." I wasn't quite sure if he was referring to the shirt, or this situation. If it was directed towards the situation, I knew it was anything but ok.

Soda took an easy step towards me, drawing me tightly against him again. "Steve's right, Pony. We need to get you cleaned up." He gently guided me away from him, keeping an arm across my shoulders, as he led me towards the shop front with Steve trailing closely.

As we reached the back office, he pulled a black padded arm chair from a wooden table, gesturing for me to sit. I watched as he pulled an old metal box - that looked like it'd seen its fair share of injuries; the lid was sporting a rather large dint, with rust forming in various parts - from between a side cabinet and wall.

He placed the large receptacle on the wooden table, opening its lid, as the hinges protested a tired creak. I watched as he searched through the first aid supplies, producing a bottle of alcohol and a semi stained grey cloth. He pulled over another chair, setting it to face me, then sat down.

Steve hadn't moved, as he remained leaning against the doorframe - arms crossed protectively over his broad chest.

"You still never told us who it was, kid." He stated from his position.

I turned slightly in my chair, facing him. Before silently turning away, staring at my hands that lay in my lap. Soda placed a gentle hand to my knee, causing me to glance up.

"It was those Soc's, wasn't it?"

I reluctantly nodded, silently. "But Soda... I don't want you going after them. I don't want you getting hurt, too. Please promise me, Soda." I begged him. I couldn't bare it if he got hurt, or any of the other guys, cause of something stupid I did.

"It's alright, kiddo. Don't you worry 'bout that none," he reassured, as he poured more then necessary amounts of alcohol into the cloth, then took a gentle hold to my chin, to disinfect the gash.

I immediately pulled back with a yelp, at the sudden intense burning; with such force, almost sending myself and the chair flying backwards. My hand instinctively flew out grabbing hold of the first thing to come in contact - which happened to be Soda's arm - and held on, as the chair righted itself.

"Soda..." I whined.

"Shh, it's ok, baby... it's ok," he soothed, trying to reassure me. "I need you to try stay still for me, ok honey?"

"B-but it hurts, Soda." I complained, still attached to his arm.

"I know, kiddo. But you need to let me clean you up." He spoke gently.

I nodded, reluctantly, as I released my grip on him. He carefully took my chin again, dabbing my cheek with the cloth. I closed my eyes, tightly - trying to bare the pain, but couldn't help pull away again.

"Soda..." I whined again, "No more."

I felt a pair of solid hands come to rest on my shoulders - holding me firmly in place - opening my eyes I tilted my head up, to see Steve.

"Quit your movin', kid," his harsh tone, scolded.

I immediately dropped my eyes to my lap, pouting.

Soda sighed, reaching forwards to rest a warm hand, to the back of my clammy one - that rested to the top of my thigh - and lightly massaged it with his thumb, before tightly grasping my hand, in his.

I glanced up, meeting his gentle dark chocolate eyes.

"It's ok, baby... just relax," he soothed, giving my hand a comforting squeeze. I winced, as he applied pressure again to the fresh gash on my cheek, and clutched his hand tightly.

He carefully removed the cloth and soaked it thoroughly in the burning liquid again - before returning it to my cheek. I tried pulling back, but with no success as Steve held me firmly.

"Oww, Soda," I gasped, while I had his hand in almost a death grip, my knuckles turning white.

"It's alright, baby..." He removed the cloth again - that had been washed deep red, with almost no grey remaining - and glanced up at Steve.

"Steve, where gonna need some stitches," Sodapop said, as he tossed the soiled cloth in the paper waist basket, before retrieving a clean one.

Steve gave a single nod, "Yeah, right."

"Hmm, Soda... I don't want stitches. It already hurts as it is." I whined, as Steve released my shoulders, coming round the front.

Soda sighed, lightly, "Yeah, I know it does, baby." He gave my hand a comforting squeeze. "But it needs to be stitched, it's too deep to heal on its own."

Steve pulled a long pointed needle from the first aid, disinfecting it with alcohol, then carefully thread through thin cotton. He placed his hand under my chin - like Soda had, and began stitching up the open gash.

Soda soaked the new cloth with alcohol, to clean out the deep gash on my arm, below my shoulder. He dabbed it against the wound causing me to yelp at the burn, and jump back.

"Shit kid... I almost stabbed you with the needle. Sit still would you." Steve scolded, angrily.

I bit my lower lip, and stared helplessly at Soda - wishing that somehow he could make the pain all disappear.

"I know this hurts, baby..." Soda said, as he placed the cloth on the table, so Steve could finish the job without me moving. "...I know it does, but your bein' real tuff about this."

I didn't feel tough though; my palms were sweating - from gripping Soda's hand, and I was yelping and owwing every few seconds. I bet if it was anyone else sitting here but me, they wouldn't so much as even flinch - but something was telling me I'm far from right on that.

After Steve finished stitching my cheek, he started on my arm, but he didn't use the cloth like Soda had. He picked up the bottle of alcohol and grabbed my arm with his other hand just below my elbow, then moved my arm so it was running across my stomach, then held it down against my side in a vice-like grip so I couldn't move it.

"Hold still kid, this might sting a bit." Steve warned, with a quick glance at me.

...

Bella Lilac