A/N: Um, hi. This is an expansion to Aly208's story, Ambivalence, so this will make more sense if you read that first. Aly208 gave me approval to write this, and she is also my Beta Reader. So, without anything else to say, R&R.
I DO NOT OWN THE OUTSIDERS.
I looked at myself in the mirror in the cold bathroom of our house. I looked thin, pale, tired, and depressed. My eyes, which I would always describe as green-gray in the past, now were a dark, dark gray. My red hair fell down in clumps around my head, having not greased it back since what Steve did to me.
What he did to me still hurts. I always believed he truly loved me. All the kisses, the hugs, and the times he told me he loved me. How could all of that have been an act?
I can't live with what he did to me. I thought he loved me. I love him. I really want to be able to hate him, but I love him too much to do so. He raped me, even though I trusted him. He raped me.
I was currently home alone for the first time since it happened, and the gang had found out.
The number one rule on the Greaser turf is to stick up for your gang and other Greasers, if needed be. Our gang is more like brothers than the other gangs around here. We stick together and nothing can hurt us too badly. But what happens when one of the gang is the one that hurts you? Well, then the gang turns against that person.
Steve was Soda's best friend. Now, after what happened, he can't even stand to talk about him. Darry, Two-Bit, and Dally beat him up, I'm sure of it. (What happened to Greasers stick together?) Even Johnny proclaimed how much he hates Steve for what he did.
I can't stop thinking about Steve. I think I'm going crazy because of it. I keep seeing him everywhere: in the park, at the movies, and even in that ice cream shop I went to with Two-Bit and Johnny. I cry when I think about how we were before he did it.
When I saw that his house was for sale, I just lost it. I ran and ran until I couldn't run any more. When I stopped running, I realized I had no idea where I was. It terrified me. I realized then how much of an influence Steve has over me.
The dreams that came out of all of this is, by far, the worst of it all. I wake up every single night screaming and crying my eyes out. Most people who are raped will have nightmares replaying what happened to them. Not me. I dream about the person that violated me in ways nobody else has being hurt or killed. That makes me more scared than the idea that it could happen again.
In the past, Soda could calm me down so easily. When I was scared, all I needed was a hug from Soda. Now, the hug that I would crave for before all of this happened is one of the things that scares me the most. It just reminds me too much of Steve. Steve always hugged me when I wanted him to. Add that to the painful reminder of him, it all started with a hug.
I was sitting in mine and Soda's bed reading "To Kill a Mockingbird" when Steve came in. He walked in and just watched me. I admit, at first I didn't notice him standing there, but when it felt like someone was staring at me, I looked up and saw him. I also glanced at the clock. 3:47 PM.
"Hey Steve," I said, "What's up?"
"Nothing much," he replied, "Just wanted to see you."
I blushed at this. Steve may be my boyfriend, but it still makes me blush when I hear something like that.
"Well, I guess you got what you wanted," I joked with him.
"No," he mumbled quietly to himself, "Not quite."
When I heard this, I figured he wanted to make out. So I put my book down, moved over to make room for him, and patted the bed to signal him to come lay down with me. When he laid down, I moved over and snuggled with him. He readily put his arms around me in a hug.
"I love you," he whispered to me.
"I love you, too," I responded. I truly mean it; I love Steve with all of my heart.
"Ponyboy," he continued whispering, "Ponyboy, do you want to prove to me that you love me?"
This scared me more than I can tell you. I had no idea what Steve was talking about. How could he doubt that I love him? What did he want me to do? What did he want from me? But I do love him and I know he loves me . . . I guess it wouldn't hurt to prove it to him.
"What do I have to do, Steve?" I asked.
"Have sex with me, Ponyboy," he whispered, sounding like he was pleading with me.
My insides froze. My God, I can't have sex with him! I do love him, but I can't. I'm too young - only 14 years old. Not to mention what Darry would do if he found out. He's fine with me being gay. He's fine about me being in love with Steve. But he would flip out if he found out if I had sex with Steve, no matter how much I love him.
"S-Steve, I can't," I said, speaking fast, "I'm too young - only 14. Plus, can you imagine what Darry would do to me, not to mention you, if we had sex?"
He looked at me with ice cold eyes. "But you love me," he said in a dangerously low voice. "I'm sure Darry would be okay with it because it's with someone you truly love. You do love me, don't you, Ponyboy?"
"Of course I love you, Steve!" I exclaimed.
"Then why won't you have sex with me, Ponyboy? Why won't you prove to me how much you love me?" he furiously yelled at me. He was starting to really scare me now.
"I just can't, Steve!" I exclaimed back at him, desperate for him to understand. I tried to get out of the loose hug he had on me, but he tightened his hold on me. I was getting frantic now. "Steve, STEVE! Let go of me. Please, please, please let go of me!"
"You're an asshole, Ponyboy!" he screamed at me, making me try even harder to get out of his now painfully tight hold. "ALL I WANT IS FOR YOU TO PROVE TO ME THAT YOU LOVE ME! IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK?"
Suddenly, he stopped screaming at me with rage in his voice and spoke to me in the most dangerous tone I've ever heard. "Well, too bad, you son of a bitch. You're going to have sex with me whether you like it or not."
He flipped me over then, pushing my back into the bed, and started kissing me on the lips. His hands found their way to the button of my jeans. He's really going to make me have sex with him, I thought.
I started screaming into the kiss. Screaming for him to stop. Screaming for this to to be a nightmare. Screaming for someone to come and save me. He stopped kissing me, and he started hurling insults instead as he got his and my clothes off. When they were off, he started kissing me again. He started the thing that hurt me the most soon after, thrusting in and out of me.
This went on until I felt him cum. He thrust into me a few more times and then he was out, but that didn't stop the pain. He was still kissing me. He kissed me for another five minutes, me being in too much pain and being too tired to try and stop him.
He broke the kiss and got off the bed. He was still insulting me, and all the words he said cut me deep. He said he had never loved me, that he had only got me to fall in love with him so he could do this. He said it was more fun when the person wanted to, but this way was just fine with him. He had finished putting on his clothes by this time and turned to leave, but spun around to say one last thing.
"Oh, and Ponyboy," he said, and when I looked at him with blank, haunted eyes, he continued, "Let's not tell the gang and your brothers about what went down here, you dig?" I nodded and he started walking out.
"I love you Steve," I whispered in a hoarse, heartbroken voice. He just kept on walking.
It took some time, but I eventually found enough strength to get up, put my boxers and pants back on, walk into the living room, turn on the TV, and collapse on the coach. I looked at the clock and saw it was 4:50 PM. Soda and Darry will be home soon, I thought idly. My brothers both get off at 5:00 today.
But as luck would have it, not only did Soda and Darry get home at 5:00, but the rest of the gang (other than Steve) came through the door with them. They all said hi in one way or another and I greeted them with a nod, not trusting my voice. All of the gang sat down around the living room other than Soda, who went into our room. He came out a minute later with a shocked expression on his face and called Darry in.
I planned on what had happened remaining between Steve and me, but that all ended when Darry screamed, "PONYBOY MICHAEL CURTIS!"
Darry was in the living room in record time. "PONYBOY, DID YOU AND STEVE HAVE SEX IN YOUR BEDROOM TODAY?" he continued on yelling for a while. He was caught up in being mad at me, and the whole gang was too busy staring at Darry with disbelief that I would have sex at such a young age, especially after the big, long, (loud) speech (rant) that Darry gave me when Steve and I told the gang we were going out. So, because they weren't looking at me, none of them saw the silent tears that were running down my face by the bucketfuls. They didn't see the silent sobs that rocked my whole body.
I had been numb up to this point. Darry's rant made me realize that all of it really did happen. Steve, the man I loved most in the world, had made me have sex with him against my will. He had raped me.
I couldn't hold it in any longer. I let out a loud sob. Loud enough to be heard over Darry's screaming and able to knock the gang out of their shock. Everyone instantly looked at me to see what was wrong. I don't know what they thought they were going to see, but they looked shocked again because of what they saw. What they saw was me, hugging my knees to my chest, and rocking back and forth.
Soda came over and knelt down on the couch so he was eye level with me. "Hey, Little Colt," he said in a quiet voice, "why are you cryin'? You know that Darry ain't mad, right? That he's only worried about you?" I nodded. Now Soda looked confused. "Then why are you cryin'?"
Could I do this? Could I really tell the gang that one of our own had raped me? Steve is like a third brother to Soda. Could I tell him? At this time, I was still crying and rocking, but I looked at the members of the gang. Darry looked mad - and scared. Soda looked scared and worried. Two-Bit looked serious for once. Dally looked curious. Lastly, I looked at Johnny.
Johnny is my best friend. He is always there to comfort me and help me with my problems. He's said to be quiet, hardly ever talking. I'm told I talk more than Johnny, but less than most people. When we hang out, we have, what the gang call, 'silent conversations.' We just look at each other and mostly know what's wrong and right. We had one there, and Johnny's big, black, innocent eyes went wide.
"Ponyboy," Johnny said quietly, "where's Steve?" The gang all gave him weird looks for that question.
I can do this, I thought, I can tell the gang what Steve did to me. I looked at Johnny. "He left," I whispered. "He left after what he did."
Now the whole gang looked confused (other then Johnny, who had started crying, knowing without beinging told). They didn't know what he did, so I decided to help them understand. I started by looking at Darry. "I didn't want to, Dar. I didn't want to have sex with him," - I couldn't look at my oldest brother now (not that I could of looked at anyone else), so I looked down at the floor - "but he wouldn't take 'no' for an answer. No matter how much I screamed, no matter how loud or how long I yelled, he wouldn't stop. Why wouldn't he stop? I thought he loved me as much as I love him. Why did he do it?" I was crying even harder now.
I looked up at the gang. They all looked disgusted, horrified, and beyond angry. Soda came and sat next to me on the coach. He hugged me. I started screaming like a banshee and he let go of me instantly.
"Little Colt," Soda said in a heartbroken voice, "why won't you let me hug you?"
"That's why I couldn't get away, Soda. Because he was hugging me."
I remembered all of this as I was staring at myself in the mirror. I looked at the clock. 4:50 PM. That should give me enough time to finish before my brothers get home.
It has been exactly a month since Steve raped me. I can't go a day without missing him. I need him here so much. I don't care what he did to me. I just want him back.
I picked up the switchblade that Jonnny left here the other day. I looked at it, and slowly, ever so slowly, brought it down to my wrist. I couldn't do this anymore. I love Steve, and what he did to me is nearly too much to stand. That, plus the pain of him leaving me all adds up. I can't do this anymore.
Suicide. To end one's own life. Something I never thought I would do. It sounded more like something Johnny would do; he talks about it sometimes. I can't believe I have become desperate enough to do this. To get rid of the pain by ending my life.
I was about to press the blade down on my wrist, but the gangs' and my brothers' faces flashed under my closed eyelids. I let the knife drop. Dallas 'Dally' Winston: the toughest, tuffest hood in Tulsa. Keith 'Two-Bit' Matthews: a jester like no other, and an amazingly awesome kleptomaniac. Johnny 'Johnnycake' Cade: my quiet, nervous, abused best friend. Sodapop 'Soda' Curtis, who can get drunk on living. Darrel 'Darry' Curtis: protective, strong, proud, and smart. My gang is my family and I hate to leave them, but I can't live with this anymore. But as I thought about them, I began to cry.
I raised the blade again. I'm really going to do this, I thought. I was aligning the blade against my wrist when, as if from a great distance, I heard the front door slam shut. I was pushing the blade down when the bathroom door slammed against the wall. I looked at my wrist. It was stained with blood.
The blade had cut the side of my wrist, which was not deep enough to kill me. I looked up at whoever had thrown open the bathroom door. It was Soda. He was staring at me with wide, scared eyes. I didn't need to ask if he saw. I knew by the haunted look on his face that he had. I started to cry harder.
"P-Ponyboy," he said in a timid voice, "what are you doing with Johnny's blade?"
I couldn't answer him; his words only made me cry even harder. I plopped down on the bathroom floor and heard the front door slam again. Darry soon appeared in the doorway next to Soda. Darry looked at me with wide eyes. Soda slowly turned to him and whispered what had happened. When Darry heard, his eyes got even wider.
Careful not to touch me, knowing that I would only become more upset if they did, both of my brothers sat down on the bathroom floor in front of me. They were talking to me. Trying to get me to calm down and stop crying. It took what felt like forever to get me to stop.
"Why did you try to . . ." Darry started, having to stop to push down the tears, "kill yourself, Little Colt?"
I hesitated. Would they understand why I did it? Would they look down on me in the future because of it? I decided they had a right to know, so I told them.
"It hurts Darry," I started in a heartbroken voice, raw from crying, and started to sob again. "It hurts what he did to me. It hurts what he said to me durin' and after what he did. The nightmares hurt. The way everythin' has changed hurts. Not being able to have any contact with anyone hurts. Not being able to hug you two hurts. Him leavin' me hurts. The memories hurt. Everythin' just hurts so much. I just don't wanna hurt anymore."
My brothers looked so sad from what they just heard me say. They tried to calm me down again, and it took even longer this time. I just didn't want to stop crying. They tried to comfort me the best they could without touching me, but that's not much.
"You don't have to hurt by yourself anymore, Little Colt," Darry said quietly.
"We're here for you, baby. You can come to us. We would never hurt you," said Soda gently.
After a few more minutes, I stopped crying. I looked at my brothers, who were sitting on the dirty bathroom floor with me. They really do love me, I thought. They would never hurt me like Steve did. I can trust them. They want to help me get rid of the pain. And, being honest with myself, I want and need their help.
"S-Soda? D-Dar? Can . . . Can I have a hug?" I asked in the smallest voice ever.
My brothers looked shocked. They had tried to hug me so many times since it happened, but I would never let them.
"A-Are you sure, Ponyboy?" Darry asked hesitantly.
I nodded. They both came over and hugged me. It felt amazing, like I was finally starting to get better. I knew that if Johnny touched me tomorrow, I would be fine. No spasms, no screaming, no crying. It would still hurt, but not nearly as much.
Darry picked me up and brought me to Soda's old room (neither Soda or I can sleep in that room after what had happened in it). They went to leave the room, seeing as I needed to sleep, but I called out, "Can you stay?" They both could, of course.
Darry came on one side of the bed, and Soda on the other. When Darry laid down, I rolled over and hugged him tightly, using his chest as a pillow. I felt his and Soda's arms wrap around me.
The pain is still there. It always will be, but it has dulled. Steve is my pain; my brothers are my pain killers. And as I laid there, safe between my brothers, I couldn't help but think about how fucked up my life has become because of this. As I drifted off to sleep, I had one last thought.
I blame you, Steve.