A/N: So I'm going to try my hand at this. Some people asked for this so I'm going to try it. ;)

Thanks so very much to you taryn at six, for beta reading.

Please note: This is more than likely going to be moved to M rated. Probably within the next chapter or two. I'm going to be doing some extreme things with this. Sorry, I don't think some things that are going to happen will qualify as T rated anymore. I'll give a warning when I decide to do so.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Outsiders. You all know who it belongs to.

December 22, 1967

Some people think life sucks and then you die. That's just the easy part. They don't think about the hard stuff you have to go through to get to that part; to the dying part. Life is more complicated than that.

You got to go through life before you get the pleasure of dying. No one wants to die. People want to check off as many things off their bucket list as they can. They want to live before they die.

Sometimes, though, living is hard. Sometimes the life you're living is worse than dying.

Dying is just the easy part.

"Angel," he called. "Kid is crying!"

I sat up on my powder blue bed and looked around my room. The walls were pink. I'd covered them up the best I could with posters of bands I didn't like and cut outs of people from magazines I could care less about. The beautiful pink color I had picked out a few years ago barley showed anymore.

A girl my age shouldn't have a pink room.

"Where is he?" I asked coming down the stairs.

Curly stood, disgruntled and with a baby in his arms. It surprised me it was in his hands. Curly had only held him twice since he was born. He figured he'd catch a disease or something from him.

He stuck out a little body for me to take. "He stinks."

"Come here." I puffed out a face as I took him.

Jake Tyler. The soul I was blessed with only a few months back. Some people say he looks like me. He has dark enough hair to say so. But if you look in his eyes, you can tell they don't belong to me. The blue color looked better on him.

I see things in those eyes. I see memories of nights I thought I'd never forget. I see happiness, ambition, and love. I wish I could see the eyes that made these again.

I rested him on the torn sofa and looked around the house I had lived my whole life in.

It was small. Momma bought it back when she was pregnant with Curly so she could get out of her mother in-law's basement. The brick on the outside had been graffiti by the neighborhood punks and the roof had more than a few leaks in it. Daddy always promised her a nicer one when they got the money, but that never happened. Since then, we just piled on in here and took over the damn place.

Momma wasn't much of a cleaner. This place had been a mess for as long as I could remember. The wallpaper plastered on the walls was ripping away revealing a nasty green color. The carpet was musty and old. The sofa I was sitting on was older than my mother and getting ready to fall through the floor. Clothes and trash were all over the floors, along with some old magazines from 1950. It smelled like rotten eggs hidden under an odor of cigarettes and fabric softener.

Yeah, Momma didn't like to clean.

"You need to put that baby to sleep!" she shouted at me.

I turned my head and looked straight into her cold eyes. "I will, Ginger."

"Well, Jason is coming over and I don't want no screaming baby running him off." She brushed her dark hair behind her shoulder and took off into the kitchen.

Jason was the guy she left Robert for. She married Robert when I was ten. I never knew much of my real father. Tim informs me that he took off once Momma found out she was pregnant for a third time. Since then she drug every bastard in town to this fucking house. Robert was one of the few exceptions.

I liked Robert.

"I don't see why you bring him here anyway," I hollered her way.

"I live here!" she snarled from the door frame. "I can do as I please in my own home. I don't need my ungrateful children to tell me what to do."

I balled up my fist as I opened my mouth to say something I knew I'd get slapped for.

"I'm headed out," Tim announced, appearing from the stairs and putting an end to my plan.

I turned my head and looked. He was dressed in a black leather jacket he ripped off from Jimmy Higden in the tenth grade. His jeans were dirty, as they always where, and his hair was greased back to perfection.

He wasn't just going out with the guys. I'd seen him dressed this way before. He only dressed this sharp when he was trying to impress.

"To where?" I questioned.

He shrugged and slipped on his muddy boots. "Don't worry about it."

The door slammed shut without another word.

"Where's Curly?" Ginger slurred, peering out of the kitchen with a bottle of Jack Daniels in her good hand.

Jack Daniels was who she had her love affairs with. She kept bottles stashed away that she bought with what little pay she earned from waitressing at the local bar. What she couldn't buy, she made me steal from the market down the road. I'd gotten pretty good at it over the years. Even learned how to grab a pack of cigarettes before running.

I looked down at the giddy baby looking up at me. "Went out with Ponyboy about an hour ago."

"That Curtis boy?" she asked taking a big swig. "Ain't he the one with no parents?"

"Yes, Ginger," I barked angrily. "He's Danni's brother. You remember Danni, Mom?"

She tilted her head back and drowned her throat once more. Half the time she couldn't remember my name when she threw back a few. "That whore that's always hangin' round' ya? The one that don't say much?" She moaned once more before throwing the bottle back once again.

"Yes, Ginger."

The couch shifted as a body sat down beside me. I turned my head and looked down at the innocent baby looking up at me like I was God. I liked that look. He was the only one who'd show it to me.

"Angel," she spoke softly before starting to twirl my hair. "You know I love you."

I remained stationary, ignoring her affection.

The old couch groaned as she moved closer to me. "Come on, sweetie. You're my baby girl. You know that." Her long finger nails locked into my hair, brushing it.

I could smell the stench of the liquor as she talked. I tucked my hair behind my ear, away from her touch. "Yeah."

"Angel," she whined. "Honey, don't be so stubborn. It's not attractive on such a pretty girl like you." She rubbed her long fingernail on my cheek. "You're so pretty. You should smile more. Boys like it when a pretty girl smiles."

I rubbed my hand on the baby's soft hair. He smiled through his pacifier and kicked his feet up and down.

"He looks like you," she pointed out. "You look like me, too, whether you like it or not. You know some people mistake us for sisters sometimes."

No they don't.

She sneered as she took another gulp. "Guess good looks run in the family."

I studied the baby that looked straight at his grandma. "I think he looks like him."

I could tell she was rolling her eyes at me. Never once had she asked many questions about it. It seemed like it'd be the first thing out of a mother's mouth.

"No he don't," she snapped. "He looks like me and you. Why would you even think to say that?"

I bit my upper lip and shrugged. "I just see it."

She scooted off the couch and took another sip of her poison. "Better get him to sleep. You know how Jason feels about babies."

Yeah, I know how Jason feels about a lot of things.

"Please stop crying!" I pleaded for the hundredth time.

Tears ran down his rosy red cheeks as he let out another big cry.

"I've fed you, changed your dipper, and held you; what more do you want?" I screamed.

"Shut that damn baby up!" Ginger hollered from down the stairs. "Try giving him the bottle."

I slammed my fist on the nightstand. Jason would be up here soon to check on us if he kept up the crying. I'd done about all I could do. He was three months old. What could he possibly want that I haven't already done?

"You still got him up?" My bedroom door flew open as Curly stuck his head in. He dared not to get to close.

"What does it look like?" I growled from under my breath. "Is Tim not home yet?"

"Naw." He leaned against the door frame. "Don't think he will for a while."

It used to bother me how close Tim and Curly were. Sometimes it still does. I shove it away for the fact that they're boys and older than me. But sometimes, I just wished they'd listen to me.

I threw my body back on my bed and rested the screaming newborn on my chest.

Tim was the only member of this screwed up family who'd even change a dipper. Curly refused to touch him and Ginger only helps when she's either sober or feeling bad about something she'd done.

Robert helped for the first month. That is until Ginger found out and got him arrested for trespassing. Hadn't heard where he'd ended up, but something told me he wouldn't be coming around for a while, if at all.

Danni had her own life. She didn't want to sit around and play house with me. Darry would ring her neck if she showed up with him at her house anyway. That boy tries to act like someone's father more than a brother. He'd die for her, though. That's more than I can say for the two I got.

Tim, for some reason, has just taken a liking to Jake. I never thought I'd see it. I figured he'd jump up and move out as soon as he was born. Guess he just feels bad because the kid doesn't have a father to help raise him. He's certainly pointed that out enough.

I didn't need help raising my baby.

I looked down at the peacefully sleeping life that laid on me. He loved me. If no one else did, I knew he did.

I eased myself up and put him into the wooden crib that Tim built for me back when he was at the Pin. At least something good came out of him being there.

Outside my window, I could see the dark streets we grew up on. There was the corner Tim, Curly, and I would play ball. The drug store I'd make nightly runs to. The bench I sat on and ate an ice cream cone and cried after I found out I was pregnant. A lot of memories are from this street. All too many.

Many of times I'd seen stuff happen on this same street that a young girl should never have to see. One night a homeless man stabbed one of the pharmacists closing up the drug store. I sat on the edge of this window and watched until the cops showed up to find the dead bloody body. I was ten when it happened. It wasn't the first nor the worst thing I'd seen happen.

Downstairs I could hear the two old crows begin to yell. He starts in about money. She yells back about having three kids and a grandchild to feed. He throws a few beer bottles, making them shatter all over the kitchen floor. Then the heat gets going.

I get this show played for me every night.

"It's my money, Jason!" she yelled. "What the hell happened to it?"

"I don't know woman!" he fought back. "How many fucking times I gotta' tell you I ain't touched it?"

"Don't lie to me, you bastard! I know you took it and spent it on that whore!"

I looked over my shoulder at the sleeping baby just a few feet away. Mom always made sure no one touched him. He was safe.

"Just shut your fucking mouth you piece of shit!"

I unlatched the lock on my window and stuck a foot out, taking one last look before guiding myself down to the fire escape.

Wind blew crisp leaves across the jagged street. Bugs whizzed to the street's light that lit up the black road my boots clicked across. Droplets of rain fell from the roofs of stores and splashed down into the puddles that lied below.

It was quiet on this street tonight.

I put my hands snug into my jacket pockets and tried to listen for the loudest noise out there, only finding nothing.

Cold chills ran down my body as the wind spoke to me again. A crunching sound was made as the heel of my boot smashed a lost leaf.

Time passed as I walked alone - until a building peered in front of my eyes.

The chitter chatter of people talking echoed through the allies and the music playing drew even the loneliness bastard in.

I placed my hand on the cold door knob and pulled, letting my ears enjoy the sound of life.

"Angel!" exclaimed a red head girl standing by the door. "Where have you been?" Her arms reached out to me and pulled me into her warm body.

"April!" I returned her sweet embrace before pulling back away.

She handed off her joint to the boy hovering closely beside her. "So, that baby been keeping you cooped up I see."

I watch the smoke run off the boy's lips as he enjoyed what was in her hand. Looking around, lots of people shared the same expression he had; an expression of not giving a fuck about... anything.

"Babe, you want?" The boy nudged her, holding the joint she'd given him.

Her light blue fingernails glided his away and snipped it tightly in-between her middle and pointer finger. Her eyes light up as they shared a giggle, then again after she took a whiff.

"Yeah," I muttered. "He's been a handful."

The dark smoke ran across her dark ruby lips and up to the ceiling to join the rest. "Ain't that the truth? Bein' a mommy must suck, huh?"

I licked my lips and watched as the bodies inside moved and passed along laughs and smiles. "You bet."

She leaned into the puffed out chest of the boy still staying close by, laughing in sequence with the others. Smiles never left their faces. Laughs slipped out every couple of seconds like they'd been living on cloud nine all their lives.

Couples sat high on hay barrels, kissing and rolling over with endless giggles. Smoke danced in the air with the music that played with a small radio placed in the very back of the room.

This was life. This was happiness. All these people...they didn't have to worry about putting a baby to sleep at night. They didn't have to worry about being embarrassed when eyes follow them when they have their child out in public. They didn't have to block out the yells at night just to be able to get a few hours of sleep.

They didn't have to be parents. They…they could live.

"Want a drink?"

I turned to the direction the stranger's voice came from. A cup was being held out to me as a young guy stood in front of me with a cheesy smile on his face.

I raised my eyebrows. "Who's offerin'?"

He smirked at my rude remark. "Who's receivin'?"

I studied him. His hair was layered with grease. His eyes were gray and dark. The shirt he was wearing was intended to show off the muscles he'd obviously worked hard to get, showing how hard he thought he was trying.

"Angela," I crossed my arms over my chest. "Angela Shepard."

He clicked his tongue as he looked me over. "Well, Ms. Shepard, do you want a drink?"

I gazed upon the cup he held out for me to take. Wouldn't have been the first time I'd taken a drink from a creep. Slowly, I reached out as he smoothly placed it into my hand, grinning as he did so.

"Thanks," I mumbled before taking a drink.

"So," he went on. "What brings you here?"

I let the liquid run down my throat. "What brings you? Ain't seen you around here before."

"I travel a lot." He winked. "Thought this town would be a good place to meet some new people."

I took another sip and slightly rotated my heel for me to turn away. "Well, hope you meet some."

"Wait!" he called after me.

I scoffed but stopped.

"Sorry." He chuckled. "I should have been more kind. You wanna...you wanna talk?"

I put a hand up to hide my sneer slipping out. "Since when do guys like to talk?"

"Since when do they don't?"

Smooth.

"Okay, then. Lead the way."

"Sounds rough," he spoke generally, taking a puff of his cigarette. "So how old is he?"

"Three months," I responded.

Time passed faster than I had thought. Hours had gone by and here I sat; still with this guy who just didn't know when to give up, listening to me go on about my many Mommy troubles.

The gentleness in his voice...the genuine tone he took to me; it wasn't one I'd received in a long time. He seemed...well he seemed to care. Not the fake type of care most guys tried to pass for liable, but something different; something I couldn't quite put a finger on.

"You don't really care how old my kid is, do you?" I accused. "You can just go ahead and skip that part. I really don't need your pity."

"Doll," he spoke softly. "Why so quick to judge? You don't know me. What makes you think that I don't care about your baby boy? What makes you think I don't care about you?"

"Past experience and the fact that you don't know me."

He scooted closer to me. "Well, doll face, guess it's time for a change in scenery and a little bit of show and tell."

"You know just what to say, don't cha?"

"You tell me."

I looked to the side, hiding my smile. I brushed the curls out of my face. "What's your name anyway, Mr. Smooth?"

His smile was wide, beautiful. "Jeff; my name's Jeff, doll face."

A/N: So whatcha think? I know not much said in this, but trust me, this is just the beginning.