medicine. dallas winston - the outsiders

17

i'm back :,)
THE SEVENTEENTH CHAPTER;
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Dallas' eyes were darker than usual, and instead of the normal hatred; filled with sadness. Every time he'd look me in the eyes, he'd bite his lip and look away, almost as if he was ready to burst into tears any moment. Seeing Dallas Winston crying was a frightening thought.

"You know what happened to Johnny." His voice was shaking, and when I looked down I noticed his hands were, too. I reached forward and grabbed one, and he let me. "He was the only guy I felt.." He looked at a loss for words, "He reminded me a lot of myself before I got locked up the first time." When he was ten years old.

I thought back to stories about Johnny and how much of a fragile, hurt boy he truly was. I understand Dallas finding similarities between Johnny and Dallas' innocent youth before he grew up way to fast. Dallas was once fragile. And when he was hurt deeply, he became hard and tough. "Johnny stayed the way he was, though, man. He was pure."

Dallas looked at me and my heart sank for him. In his eyes I could tell he felt as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders. He probably felt this all of the time. I used to think he was the meanest person around; who felt nothing. Little did I know he felt absolutely everything, and he let it all build up over the years and had not told a soul until the day he told me.

Suddenly, he lifted his black tee shirt, revealing a massive scar on his stomach. My eyes widened. I couldn't stop myself from gently reaching forward, and brushing my fingers against it. I could tell after a moment's observation that it was a scar from a bullet wound.

"When Johnny died I couldn't think straight. I felt like everything good left 'round here was just..gone." The way Dallas was speaking then was clear, focused. He had his tuff front completely gone. He was being honest; real.

I hadn't said a word, yet. I rubbed over his scar one last time before he covered it back up. "How did this happen, Dal?"

"I pointed an unloaded gun at the feds. They shot me." He said abruptly. My heart aches and I squeezed his hand again.

"Johnny didn't deserve all that, man." Dallas rubbed his face, swallowing back tears.

Things made a tiny bit more sense now. Johnny was what held the gang together. And though they're getting around now, there was a massive hole left and it's still there today. The biggest part of that is missing in Dallas, the one who Johnny meant the most to. That's what happened to Dallas Winston. He found someone who related to his ten year old self, but someone who didn't go down the wrong path like he did. Sure, Johnny was a greaser. But he was the best of all of them. And when Johnny passed away, Dallas was never the same again.

"I ain't found nobody as good as Johnny until I met you, Rose." Dallas said, looking me in the eyes, "I just hope you don't leave, too.." And at that, his voice broke off. And I witnessed him shed tears, only for a moment; because he harshly wiped them away.

Suddenly, a smile spread across his face. It wasn't his wild, crazy smirk. It was a sad smile, however. "Your turn, doll."

I sighed heavily. I knew I owed it to him to tell the truth. So, I did, and I didn't leave out a single detail.

I meant every word I said about how living in Hollywood ruined my life. Not necessarily the place or atmosphere. That could've been a wonderful experience. It could've opened many doors for myself. The part that made it so awful was the woman I was with. My mother. The woman that's supposed to be my rock, but she was like a stranger to me in every way possible.

Many nights I'd lay, knowing deep in my heart that my mother would choose any drug, any alcoholic drink, and any man over me.
Many nights I'd have to lie in a cold, unfamiliar bed, listening to things from a man that I had no clue his identity. It'd be a new man every night, as well.
I hated seeing my mother drink herself away to nothing by the end of the night. Or take so many drugs she'd forget who I am. Sometimes I would wish she'd forget me all together; my reasoning, was because then maybe I could go be with someone else.

My mother made growing up so hard that I didn't want to do it. I wouldn't mind if I'd sit there and slip off into oblivion, at times.

In a way, Dallas and I were in the same boat. He lost all that was pure in his life, and so did I. We didn't find it again until we met eachother.