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

Chapter Sixteen Sophie's POV

I stand there and watch as Dallas storms out of Buck's, slamming the door behind him. I pull my sweater tighter and hug myself, looking around. The guy on the floor groans and I walk away backwards, scared of how he'll react when he comes to. I run to the door and open it. I pause outside and Dallas is leaning against the railing surrounding the porch area outside the door.
I walk over to him with my head down and lean against the railing a foot away from him, keeping my distance. My arms stay crossed and I look up to the sky.

I sigh. " You didn't have to hit him." "Hell if I didn't," he snaps.
I look over at him. He breathes heavily. He twists around quickly to face away from me and leans his hands on the railing. He shakes his head and looks towards the sun. "Then why did you?" I ask and lean my back against the same railing he has his hands gripped firmly onto, his knuckles white.

His face looks pained, as if he's holding something in where people won't see. He licks his lips and looks down to the ground shaking his head once more. "I've been through more than a soc could understand," he says.

I throw my hands up into the air. "Oh yeah, I forgot only greasers have it bad." I pause and grunt, "You know what I wish? I just wish for one moment all theses labels could just disappear. They're superficial." "Superficial? Really, man? What's superficial about people jumping other people because they have nothing better to do, nothing to work for, because it's all handed to them," I just look at him and place my hand on his shoulder making him face me. "Maybe that's it. Maybe people forget to be people, feel how people feel, when all that matters is money and whether it's handed to them or not," I say and search for his eyes.

He looks into my eyes, "Maybe that's what you think, but I've tried to stop feeling. Hell, I've begged whoever is above us to make it impossible for me to feel, man. It's not easy, you can pretend but I don't think anyone is that good, man."

"Maybe we can't change that," I whisper.

"I wish we could, but you have to be tough to survive in this world, man, and there aren't room for wishes," he whispers back.

We stand there staring into each other's eyes, making silent wishes.

I wish I could understand the world. I wish the world would be accepting. I wish money didn't mean anything. I wish my father and mother loved me like they loved their jobs and money. I wish I had a friend I could tell everything to without it being around the school the next day. I wish I didn't have an abusive drunk as a boyfriend. I wish, I wish, I wish. The list goes on and that's why Dallas is right because if I get lost in these wishes then I'll never be able to survive. Although is surviving all we're doing?