ð¥|DALLY'S POV|ð¥
I TAKE ANOTHER long swig of the cheap liquor I snagged from Buck Merle's. The booze didn't even burn going down anymore and if it did I couldn't feel it. That made me glad.
My eyes shift to the Soc on the ground, his face painted with blue and purple marks. Shallow breaths leave him as blood trickles from his busted face. "Please. No more." He gulps weakly, his body shaking. Poor bastard's nerves were shot. I didn't even have to hold him down anymore, he was too weak to move.
A sick smile paints my face as I crouch down to his level, taking another quick swig of my stolen booze. "I'm not a bad guy," I tell him softly, my words slightly slurred. I wasn't a bad guy. I wasn't a good man, but I was a fair one, most of the time.
"N-no, you're good." The idiot blubbers. Pathetic.
A soft chuckle falls from my lips. "I always have a reason for every man I jump." I explain, "Any idea why it had to be you?" I question the man.
The Soc starts stammering out a response, one that I didn't even care to listen to. He falls silent at the sound of my blade flicking open, his shallow breath stills. "Please, man. I-I can pay you-"
"Typical Socs always trying to use Daddy's money to get out of trouble," I state bluntly, twirling the blade between my fingers, "You're all pussies." I seethe, bringing the blade to graze his cheek. "Especially the ones who think it's okay to put their hands on a woman."
Realization dawned on the Soc as a stuttered breath left him. "I-I didn't mean to hurt the broad, man. I swear! I-it just got outta-"
"Shut up." I snap. The soc who punched Angela obeys. I stand up to my full height, my booze tight in my grasp "I don't like woman beaters, they're always pathetic. Sleazy. Pieces. Of shit!" I bark, delivering a hard kick to the Soc with the last few words of my sentence.
He passed out about halfway through my kicks, guess I kicked his head a little too hard.
I left him there in the alley, someone would find him eventually. Walking aimlessly through town, I wind up at Buck Merle's once again.
I toss the empty bottle of booze to the side, the bottle shattering to pieces from the force of my throw.
I stumble into the house, the smell of cigarettes, sex, and alcohol strong. The room was slightly dimmed, making it more difficult for me to see through my blurry eyes. How much did I drink?
I didn't care. My eyes find a patch of brown hair, a woman. She was turned away so I could only see her back. My heart aches as Angela pops into my head. It was an unwelcome feeling of longing.
One that had to be satisfied.
I make my way through the drunk people, stepping over the ones passed out on the floor and dodging the limbs of the ones dancing drunkenly. All while my eyes stay trained on Angela.
I slip my hands around her slim waist. However, I didn't feel my racing heart calm like it always did when I touched Angela. What the hell?
My confusion is quickly erased when I hear the buttery giggle of the woman who I learn is not Angela. She turns around to face me. I'm met with dark brown eyes instead of the smoky blue eyes of my Angela. The woman had a wide smile that showed off her perfectly white teeth and her scent was fruity, something like watermelon. Her hair was just like Angela's. But everything else is entirely different. She was far from Angela.
I felt disappointed.
"What are you doing here all alone?" The brown-headed girl questions. A coy smile played on her red-painted lips. She puts her hands on my chest and slowly moves them up to sit on my shoulders. Squeezing lightly. Suggestively.
Angela is a bitch. I tried to protect her and instead, she said that she regretted sleeping with me. She acted like I was nothing. Like I didn't fucking try to protect her feelings. Like I didn't protect her little brother from getting arrested.
I shove all thoughts of Angela away, deep down. I was a master of my emotions. I controlled them, not some skank. It was one of the many things being in New York and the Cooler taught me.
I suck my bottom lip into my mouth slowly releasing it as I look down at the brown-headed girl, a smirk making its way across my face. "Looking for a Doll like you." I hum.
She giggles. It was clear she wasn't drunk, but tipsy. "Oh really?" She hums.
"Yep," I confirm, moving my mouth to hover by her ear, my words a husky whisper as move my hands up her legs, under her miniskirt to cup her ass and squeeze. She gasps, jumping lightly. "How about I take you upstairs?" I suggest, trailing soft kisses up her neck. "You'd look so sexy bent over my bed, don't you think?" I hum.
The girl nods quickly "Yes, Daddy." She purrs.
I never understood why men liked being called "Daddy", it seemed a little creepy to me. But right now all I'm worried about is being balls deep in this girl.
"Good girl." I husk, nipping at her ear as I pick her up. She squeals, wrapping her legs around my middle as I carry her upstairs.
Little did she know I thought of someone else while I fucked her.
ð¥|ANGELA'S POV|ð¥
My eyes feel heavy as I open them to the sound of my ringing alarm clock. I lay in my lumpy bed for several minutes, thinking.
I hadn't left my house in two weeks, dodging Darry and Soda most of the days. I'm pretty sure I'm now jobless and I don't even want to think about all the schoolwork I'll have to catch up on when I do go back to school. My worry for Ponyboy and Johnny knew no end. I couldn't stop thinking of where they were or if they were even still safe. When I thought of them Dally followed close behind. He was the one that got them out of Tusla and somewhere else. I didn't know whether to be angry or relieved.
I was angry he hadn't told me what was going on, I was with him that night for fuck's sake. But I was relieved he got them out before the cops got them. He didn't have to. He could've sent them away, that would've been the easier option. But he didn't. Because that isn't who he was. He helped his friends when they needed it.
That's why I don't even know if I'm still mad at him or not. I haven't even talked to him since our argument.
When the ringing of the alarm clock becomes too much for my pounding head, I sit up and flip the switch to turn it off. The annoying machine falls silent and I stretch, reaching my arms high in the air. My bones crack and pop while my muscles stretch. It felt incredible.
I slip my bare legs out from under my bed covers, my skin rising with goosebumps and the chilliness of my room. I pull on a pair of cotton shorts so I have something covering my lady bits under my oversized T-shirt.
My foot hits a bottle of booze and it rolls away. I pick it up and see it's about a third of the way gone. I take another hefty swig, the alcohol burning as it slides down my throat. I had grown to tolerate the burning feeling.
I hadn't spent a day sober since mine and Dally's day at Besty's. My paycheck had burnt away in booze and cigarettes.
I couldn't care any less.
I screw the cap back onto the booze, locking the liquid inside the bottle. I place it on my bed and snatch my pack of cigarettes up from my bedside table along with my lighter. Slipping a cigarette into my mouth and lighting it, my tired legs carry me out of my room into the kitchen.
In the kitchen, Darry cooked eggs and sausage while Sodapop played cards with Steve. It was normal to see Steve in the mornings, it was almost a routine. Darry and I cooked breakfast, we all ate then Ponyboy and I headed to school while the three men went to work. Or at least that's how it was before Ponyboy and Johnny left.
Everyone in the gang has been on edge since the two youngest members have gone into hiding. No one would outrightly say it, but we are all worried for them.
I was surprised that they were all still here, usually they left around 7. It was almost 7:30.
I look at Soda and he intentionally avoids my gaze, everyone has been. Nobody wanted to be snapped at or upset me further. "Any news on the boys?" I question my voice a low rasp as I exhale cigarette smoke with my words.
"Nothing yet." Steve pipes up. He didn't even like Ponyboy, yet he spoke softly, worry lacing his tone.
"Put that out. You're going to make the food taste ashy." Darry speaks up over the silence. He doesn't look at me when he speaks.
I let out a soft huff and put my cigarette out, stubbing it into the ashtray on the small round dining table as I sat. I watch Steve and Sodapop play cards. After a while of watching I assume they are playing "War" as Steve takes his and Sodapop's singular card that is face up in the middle and adds it to the bottom of his stack of cards.
Soda lets out a low curse at this.
I watch the two play for a bit longer before plates of steaming eggs and sausage are placed in front of all of us. "Thanks, Darry," Soda says to our older brother as he grabs his fork and starts scarfing down the food in front of him while Steve puts the deck of cards back into the box, claiming he wins.
Darry starts washing the dishes as Steve and Soda gulp down their breakfast and hurry out the door so they aren't late for work. I stayed glued to the chair I sat in, my eyes trained on the breakfast in front of me. Any other time I would be happily eating it, probably begging for a ride to school from Steve and Soda right now. Instead, the food made my stomach churn and it smelt revolting.
"You have to eat Angela." The deep voice of Darry instructs, pulling me from my thoughts. I look up at him to see him done with the dishes, holding a plate of his own, his eyes on mine. He walks over to me, sitting in the seat beside me. Darry scoops some eggs onto his fork and shoves it into his mouth.
He chews slowly as he picks up the newspaper, flipping it open and glancing down at it. He switches between eating and reading. We stay silent until he clears his throat, glancing down at my food then me, explaining with his eyes that he wants me to eat.
"I'm not hungry." I state quietly, my fork and plate untouched by me. Darry sighs, his eyes that match mine staring up at me. For the first time in a while I look at my brother. Really look at him. Heavy bags sat under his tired eyes that used to be full of life and youth. Now they are stressed and sleep-deprived. His gelled-back hair looked sloppy and I could see his stubble starting to grow, making him look way older than he really was.
I felt ashamed.
I knew what stared back at him. Greasy, disheveled hair that hasn't been washed properly in days and bloodshot, droopy eyes from my past few days of binging on alcohol.
"Angela...I don't know what else is going on, but you can talk to me. I know I haven't been the best brother. I know I messed up. But you can't go on like this. This isn't like you." Darry tells me.
I sat silent, letting my eyes flutter back to my untouched food. Darry sighs in defeat. He stands up and takes his almost-finished plate to the trash can, scraping it clean before putting it into the sink. He walks over to me, placing a gentle kiss on the top of my head, like mom and dad did when I was little and they would put me to bed.
He squeezes my shoulder lightly "Just...try to go to school, yeah? Hang out with Bea and your friends. Try not to stress yourself out too much." With a gentle pat on my back, Darry leaves for work. Leaving me alone in the house, contemplating if I should go to school or not.