From A Shell: The Outsider's Fanfiction

Chapter One

The haunting sound of infuriated shouts and fists pounding into human flesh is all that soothes any being to sleep on this forsaken battleground. Shouts for help and winded gasps of air will soon be the only remembrance of the night's brawl, excluding those unfortunate to leave the battleground in critical condition; those who made it out with only a few mere scratches will boast for the next days' time, until that becomes bothersome and repetitive, and they feel the urge to relight their diminishing flame.

The deafening sprints towards safety tightly embracing the lonesome beings - their fingers wrapping first, around their backs, stealthily working the short pathway up towards their necks; squeezing the life from the lungs of the lonely; thus, allowing them to repeat the endless cycle without a single, burdensome witness.

"Pixie," A male voice, that I have grown rather fond of speaks, "May I bug you for a second?"

My pencil twirling in my hand as I spin around in the worn down and cracked desk chair. A smile dancing upon my lips as I gaze upon the boy before me, his silky, golden hair glistening from the sunlight fighting its way through the partly opened shutters. His dark brown eyes full of life and recklessness as they gaze upon me. I nod, waiting for him to continue.

"Would you like to come over tonight?" I raise an uncertain eyebrow. "Darry and Pone are making supper tonight and would like if you came and ate with us."

I grin softly, while slightly nodding my head, "I would really like that. Especially since my old 'bother' is probably doing god-knows-what with his greasy hood buddies."

Dallas, who is my older brother by only a year and a half, is always running amuck the streets of Tulsa with a pack of cigarettes in his leather jacket trying to start unnecessary trouble. There have been times prior when Dallas had a mental breakdown, that cost him to spend time in the cooler for a couple weeks. It's quite a depressing cycle Dallas Winston has going for him: leaves cooler, lays low for a couple weeks, sparks up the terrible habits, has a complete mental break, thrown back into the cooler; but, nonetheless, I love him with every ounce of my being, seeing that he is my only remaining blood relative. All any of us hope is that Dallas will grow tiresome of this deteriorating cycle. This time around he has promised to change, and I really do believe him as of late.

"So, shall we go on an adventure, Pepsi-Cola?" I chuckle at his reaction. Sodapop Curtis is his biological name; Pepsi-Cola being a nickname his belated father gave him, which I stuck with. Luckily, Sodapop doesn't seem to mind. 

Sodapop and I have always been close, but our friendship dwindled when he start dating his ex-girlfriend Sandy, who broke his heart and skipped town. The rumor has it that Sandy had gotten pregnant, but the baby wasn't Soda's. Ever since, however, we have been almost inseparable. 

The walk from Dallas and I's small bedroom at Buck's to the Curtis resident was a walk that is all too familiar to me. I could walk this entire pathway in my sleep, count every crack, every weed, and recite every house's address; this being one of the only pathways that I walk upon during the long days in Oklahoma. 

"What are you thinking about, Pixie?" I snap my head in the direction of Sodapop.

"I was just thinking, 'why did Mr. Sodapop Curtis come into my bedroom at Buck's place, despite the fact that it is a forbidden destination for any Curtis brother?'"

Clearing his throat before he speaks, "Well, you see Miss Pixie, Mr. Darrel Curtis has come to the realization that my brother and I only have one reason to be within the walls of that forsaken place: you."

Loud banging and sounds of sizzling meat drift out from the Curtis' screen door, along with the lovely aroma of a freshly cooked meal, which causes my stomach to twist and growl, begging for the next meal a majority of the time. My stomach always disobeys me in the presence of my family. Dallas and I aren't the most financially stable individuals; therefore, when we do have some cash on us, we spend very minimal on food and clothing, in order to assist in my education, but what my older brother doesn't know: I hide about a half of it as a precaution, like a rainy day fund. A small portion of my being is quite frightened of Dallas discovering my "stash" located in my faux desk drawer.