The Outsiders Imagines & One Shots & Preferences

Angel // S.C.

There were no boys in my family, not anymore at least. My two older brothers had gone as soon as they turned 18 to fight in the Vietnam war, one dying in battle and the other returning with his purple heart. Though my mother begged me not to, I decided to do the same after graduation. My father gave me a firm handshake, the one he only did with the boys, and he told me to return, dead or alive, "Give 'em hell, baby" he told me as I was shipped off with other soldiers.

I was one of the few women, not that I was complaining, but I had to prove myself much harder than the boys. Thankfully, I could hold my own. But, during boot camp and as we were stationed before heading for Hell, I met a pair of best friends, who took me in as one of their own best friends. The first night we hung out, we were in the common room, drinking and playing cards. None of us were drunk, and I was still unsure who had the idea, but we ended up getting matching tattoos the same night.

On all of our ribcages, we got a set of three cards, with our names and tag numbers inside them. It wasn't long before we were in the jungle, watching each other's back and helping everyone around us.

We were in hell. All of us, damn near out of ammo, and I was the only one left with grenades at this point, besides our versus. We heard screaming ahead of us, and took off together, vowing to save every last person we could before heading for safety. Nobody deserved to be out here alone at night, certainly not while they bled out, cold and alone.

That's how it happened. Sodapop Curtis was the only one of us left with ammo, and I was still throwing 'nades. I had two left. We finally found the boy, must've been our age. Steve Randal helped him over our shoulders while Soda covered our back. Steve took a grenade from me, running back from us, in front of us as we ran. He hit a trip wire just before he could throw the live nade. He let out a scream as he fell to his good leg, the three of us looking to see the large gash in his leg, bleeding out. I took the live nade and dropped the wounded boy, turning to throw it, only to not make it in time.

The explosion of the grenade, I knew what happened before the amount of smoke cleared. Most of my hand had been torn apart by shrapnel. Sodapop moved me to hide with Steve and the other boy, ducking in the small dip of the earth.

Steve was panting as he cute his shirt to make a bandage for his leg, and I used my own while Soda continued to fire the last of his bullets, as he finished, it was dead silent for moments.

Besides wailing. I looked up, making eye contact with Sodapop's bright blue eyes, and he looked to contemplate with himself. "Sodapop, we have to go" I urge, gritting my teeth, "We have nothing right now, we can't help them" I warn, and he shakes his head.

"We said we was helpin' everyone we could, and we can help one more person" "Soda, we have to go" Steve said as the boy and he started to try to get up. He shook his head and pulled the grenade, the last one I had, from my hip. I reached for him with my hand, only for him to move back, looking at us before getting up.

All three of us called after him, fear and worry becoming the main feeling in my body. The pain was masked by the adrenaline I felt, but I knew it wouldn't last much longer. I turned to Steve and the younger boy, "Take Steve, now. Get the hell out of here" I tell him while reloading his gun for him. Steve looked hesitant before the two started to run, or limp, off to safety.

I looked around before standing, noticing a lone, forgotten gun, and as I grasped it, realized on the other end was the only other female. Samantha Ward. She was gone but was still warm as I pried her fingers from the gun. I loaded it before I took off in the direction Soda did. I had the heavy gun in one hand, using my blown hand to rest under the barrel so it wouldn't fall.