A/N: An idea I got while I was dozing off in Civics. There is going to be 7 chapters for this fic, one for each greaser. They're going to be a letter to someone each greaser hates. This chapter is a letter from Steve to his dad. Enjoy.:D

Disc.: God I hate doing these. I don't own 'The Outsiders'. It belongs to S.E. Hinton.

WARNING: Some swearing.

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Dear Dad,

You never cared. I can deal with that, I guess. No, no I can't. I hate it. I hate you and everything you are. You stupid, drunken bastard I hope you die. I had to raise myself because you could never do it. I had to do everything by myself, because you could never help. Well, no that's not completely true. I had help from Sodapop.

I bet you don't even know who Soda is, huh, dad? If I ever brought him over, you were always either passed out or too drunk to notice. Soda, for your information, is my best friend; he has been since about 2nd or 3rd grade. But like I said, you probably don't know that. And I bet you don't know Evie either. Even though she'd been over there maybe 100 times, and even though she practically broke down on our doorstep because I got thrown in jail.

Speaking of which, where were you when I was in jail? 'Cause it's not like I ever saw you. The gang came to visit me, and so did Evie. Even Two-Bit's mom came in to see me. But did you? No. Not one. Not a single, fucking time. Why not? I know you weren't too busy. All you ever do is get drunk and watch t.v. Oh, hey, dad, did I ever tell you where I went all those times you kicked me out? I got to Soda's house. Even though his parents are dead, and his older brother works himself to pay for him, Soda, and their younger brother to live okay, they still let me sleep on their couch if I need a place to stay. Sure you give me money the next day, but hasn't anyone ever told you that money doesn't make everything all better? Of course not. Because money means booze, and booze makes you feel better, huh, dad? But just to let you know, that doesn't make anything better for me.

I work, dad. Did you even know that? Yeah, I work with Soda at a DX. We get the most customers in town. Great, huh? Not like you'd care, I just wanted to let you know. Oh, and what were you doing last month when two of my friends died? Remember? I was holed up in my room, sobbing and crying like a little kid. You never asked me if I was okay, or what was wrong. You just didn't give a damn. You still don't. But you know what dad? Go to hell. You can just go straight to hell, because as far as I'm concerned, you're dead to me already. You have been for a long time.

Just thought I'd tell you that, because even if you never read this, it's still important. It's important because I wrote it and it's how I feel. So I hope you have a great life, dad, or whatever's left of it. 'Cause I may not have had a great life, but it was good, and you were never apart of it. I just wanted to tell you that, dad.

Love,

Steve R.

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I liked writing this. Tell me what you think, and if it's even worth continuing. Reviews only make me happier and more willing to update.:)