Abyssal Emotions (The Outsiders/Dallas Winston Fan-Fic)

Chapter Seven Dallas' POV

I pull up the collar of the jean jacket I'm wearing to guard my ears from the cold. I run my fingers down the jacket from the tip of the collar to the hem, recalling old memories. The smell of the jacket reminds me of the past so I never wash it. It'd bring back the raw pain all over again and I'm not sure I'd be able to heal the wound again.

My palm starts to sting and I look down at it. A fresh cut runs from just below my pinkie, in a diagonal, ending at the base of my thumb.

"Dammit," I mutter smearing the blood across my hand with the other thumb.

I must've cut it when I threw that damn bottle of whiskey into the trash back at the drive-in. I don't even like the drink. I used to do it just for fun occasionally with the gang, but now I just use it as a way to forget.

I smirk in disgust at my insistent rambling. I grab a new cigarette out of my pocket and strike a match against my St. Christopher's medal to light it. I wave the match and drop it on the ground. I pull the cig out my mouth and blow out slowly while looking up at the sky. The streetlight flickers above me and I hear the rumbling of an engine down the street.

Suddenly a blue mustang appears at the end of the road. It passes so quickly that all I see is a blue blur as it passes.

"Stupid, Soc this is our territory," I murmur to myself and shake my head.

I remember when I used to drive like that. When my careless facade was believable. Man, what I would give to be like that again.

I continue to walk and try not to think. I take puffs of my cig and kick rocks on the way to Buck's to pick up a new broad for the night.

I hear another engine rumble that interrupts my thoughts. The blue mustang comes swerving back from the the way it was headed earlier, the radio blaring the damn Beatles.

"Slow down, asshole!" I shout but, he doesn't hear me.

I take another long drag on my cig and then turn back around to keep walking. I turn a corner and see a chick standing on the side of the road. As I get closer I notice it's the soc broad from the drive-in.

"Jesus Christ," I say and blow a long line of smoke out the corner of my mouth. I let the weed hang from my lips and shove my hands in my pockets.