the outsiders || preferences

soda imagine

warning: this contains self harm, suicidal ideation, abuse, and sexual assault. please read with caution.
••••

when i was growing up, i was somewhat happy. i had known dallas winston back when we lived in new york together, then he left randomly and i was heartbroken.

dallas and i were polar opposites. i guess opposites attract? he was confident and outgoing, but i was more shy and anxious. i hid a lot of things from the gang, like i was still a virgin and never even had a boyfriend, and more severe things like my mom was abusing me.

soda and i clicked the moment we met. when dallas introduced me to the gang, my eyes drew towards soda. something about him, his presence was so comforting. he gave me butterflies in my stomach, made my knees lock, and would turn my skin beet red.

i guess being around soda made it possible for him to read me like a book. he always knew something was wrong with me, even when i told him i was fine. i hated it sometimes because he would persist until i told him what's wrong. usually it would be school or work; and sure, that stressed me out. but, it was my mom. i would come home and she'd be drunk off her ass and she'll be yelling at me for every little thing and break things, then expect me to clean up after her.

i walked through the dirt, my white socks getting the brown substance on them making them dirty. maybe if i walked in quiet enough, she wouldn't notice me. it was a friday night and i knew she would be drunk- again.

i opened the door as quietly as i could, but even if i teleported inside, she would still know.

"where the hell have you been?" she said, slamming the brown bottle down on the coffee table in front of her. i immediately froze.

"i told you ma, i was working late tonight." i said, trying to sound confident but it came out as timid as my body was. she stood up and walked over to me, holding the glass in her hand by the neck, and taking another swig.

"you were out with that greaser boy again, weren't you?" she asked, wiping her mouth with her sleeves. i shook my head. maybe i was lying a little bit, because he was there, but we work together.

"no, ma." was all i said. she smashed the empty bottle against the staircase and held the broken bottle to my throat and yelled "lies!". i started shaking and backed into the door, hoping i would fall through it like a ghost or something. she laughed, taking my right arm in her hand and started drawing patterns into my skin with the sharpened glass.

"ma, please stop." i whimpered, no, she hadn't actually cut me or my skin, but she was tempted to. i could see it on her face. she dropped the glass and went into her bedroom, slammed the door, and locked it. i could hear her rummaging through things before hearing her tv turn on. i was still standing in the doorway, just shaking. i thought my legs would give out on me at any second, so i ran upstairs to my room. i was pacing back and forth, my hands going through my h/c hair. my nails were digging into my scalp, and tears were bubbling at my eyelids. i hadn't cried in a while, but that was the breaking point. i couldn't hold it in anymore.

years of built up pain, stress, suffering- everything; i couldn't take it anymore. i walked into my bathroom and dug through my drawers looking for my razor. all i could was my eyebrow razor, but good enough i guess. i looked at it for a second, twirling it around in my fingers for a few seconds, shaking uncontrollably. i held the blade to my arm, just pushing it. it was like my mind was static for so long, i was feeling nothing. in a quick move, i drew the blade through my skin. it left a short line across my skin. that wasn't enough though, i still wasn't feeling. i could barely feel the pain in my arm- i had to go deeper.

i pressed the blade deeper and pulled. i swore i saw blood squirt out of the cut, i dropped the razor. i had stayed there the whole night, and eventually fell asleep in the quietness of my bathroom. the only light was coming from the light over my shower.

i had woke up after a few hours. i was delusional and felt nauseous. i looked down at the floor below me, a pool of blood had drenched my skinny jeans and was swarming all over me. it was like sitting in a tub of red water.

"y/n?" i heard soda's voice echo in my head. i couldn't speak, i was so light headed. there were more people and voices besides his, but i couldn't make them out.

"soda?" i finally whimpered. i leaned my head against the toilet seat lid, closing my eyes.

"y/n?!" soda finally reached me, and had to turn both lights on in order to see me. i heard him gasp, he was speechless.

i could feel his hands around me, his tears hitting me and him screaming for darry.

darry's pov

when i finally reached soda in y/n's bathroom, it was a sight that's for sure. soda was crying and screaming for me to help him. i honestly had no words, so i walked over and helped him unlatch her from her spot on the floor. i watched soda pick her up and carry her to my car, and i heard the other boys gasp when they saw her. i looked at the pool of blood on the floor. I was absolutely speechless. 

a few days later...

soda and y/n were sitting on the couch together, her head resting on soda's shoulder. they had a small green blanket wrapped on top of them and were almost fully asleep. I glanced at them and smirked to myself; hearing soda's pain and how hurt he was, and being unable to see her the first day she was in the hospital. I was happy they were happy. 

y/n was getting therapy, and seemed to be physically recovering well. she seemed more anxious and on edge; kind of like Johnny. 

****

omg this sucks lol 

also I got my MacBook back 😎

word count: 1093