Dallas Winston Has A Sister? 2 (Outsiders Fanfic)

Ex-Boyfriend

Note to Readers: Here's the second part of An Accident? that you wanted me to continue.  Hope you like it, please comment and vote.

I had planned to get out of town, I had the money to do so then and there, but then my stupid brain decided to start working and telling me it was an irrational move and running away from my problems wouldn't solve them.  So I hung around town the rest of the day mulling it over and finally decided to go home and sleep on it.

When I walked in the door, still seething but also for some reason feeling completely worn down, I saw Dally sitting on the couch, an open beer can in one hand and a lit cigarette in the other, staring at whatever show was on T.V.

He heard the door open and slam shut and whipped around to face me, shouting, "Where were you?"

He didn't sound mad though, just upset, and I noticed he had a fresh bruise on his chin.

I vaguely wondered where that had come from as I answered flatly, "Robbing a gas station," for once telling the truth, but I knew he wouldn't believe it.

Dal scoffed and then hesitated a second before asking casually, "You, uh, you all right, kid?" gesturing towards my cheek.

"Fine.  I'm just deciding if I should kill him or not," I half lied.  I wasn't fine, no matter how much I tried to convince myself I was, but the second part was still up for consideration.

Dally laughed and said offhandedly, "You might not have to.  I already beat him up pretty good."

I was surprised, that all that came out was a curious, "Oh."

I wasn't sure what to think of my brother beating up my boyfriend--ex-boyfriend, but at least that kept me from having to see him again.

A part of me felt bitter about it though, and the lump of guilt in my stomach was slowly growing the more I thought about it.  Pony hitting me wasn't right, but maybe it had  been an accident like Soda'd said.  But then there was what he'd said right before he'd hit me, 'Why do you always do that?'  Do what, I wondered, because that might make me to blame instead of him.

I sighed and went up to my room, not caring that my stomach was growling or that it was only about seven o'clock.  I had to sort this out, ad the only way to do that...would be to go talk to my ex.  Great.  Well, forget that idea, I thought.  No way was I talking to him again anytime soon, if ever.

But as I sulked in bed later that night, waiting to fall asleep, the tiniest sliver of my heart told me that I knew I was going to miss him and I should just suck it up, get over my stubbornness, and go talk to him.  I wasn't sure I could convince myself to do that, though.