Never Let You Go

If there was one that Dallas couldn't handle, it was the fact that Johnny was dead. Dallas couldn't take it anymore. He wanted to be with him forever. And Dallas Winston always gets what he wants.

An emotional wreck. That was what I was when he died.

I can still hear Johnny's voice, echoing in my mind.

"It's useless, fightin' ain't no good."

We did it for you, Johnny. I joined the rumble so you'd be proud of me. Why ain't ya proud of me, like I'm proud of you?

"Stay gold, Ponyboy. Stay gold."

That shattered me up real good. After everything I did for him, he just flipped me off and said some secret message to Ponyboy, the bastard! I had no idea what 'stay gold' meant, but it probably meant something that only those two knew about.

"This is what you get for helping people, you little punk." I spat at no one in particular. "C'mon, don't die on me, now."

I'll tell ya, when I first met Johnny, the first impression I got of him what that he was like a pet. He was the only one who understood me. Without him, I got nothin' to live for. So I ran. I ran away.

I used to think that I don't run away, but I guess I'm changing because of everything that has happened. I won't change, though. Not for Johnny, not for anyone. I'll always be the Dallas Winston.

"You're out of your mind!

"Why do you help people, huh?" I gritted my teeth at the doctor as he sprinted back inside the hospital. "It don't do any good!

Where to, now? I asked myself as I tucked my heater into my back pocket.

There was only one thing I could do that always made myself feel better. Something illegal. 'Cause Dallas Winstons doesn't do 'legal'. He never will

I picked up a comic book from a store, grinning madly.

"You want to buy one of those?" A clerk asked. I ignored him. He didn't deserve my word.

I teared the magazine. That's what you get for being rich and happy, you stupid clerk!

"You tear them, you gotta pay for 'em," He told me strictly. "Don't do that!

Slowly and menacingly, I walked towards the clerk.

"You gotta pay for that magazine," The look of the clerk's face when I pulled out my heater = priceless. "Oh, God. Don't shoot!"

"Give me the money!" I ordered impatiently, looking behind me, through the glass door to see if there were any pedestrians nearby. "Give me the damn money!"

"I'm sick of you punks!" The clerk looked like he was about to cry. A satisfactory smile crept on my face as the clerk continued. "Take it and get out!"

I remembered bashing on the hospital wall, and cursing at the doctor. The selfish bastard didn't help Johnny at all. If someone had done something, then maybe he would still be alive.

If I could just go back in time and stop Johnny from going into that Church or stabbing that damn soc, or if I could go back and kill myself before I gave those idiots, Ponyboy and Johnny, the idea to run to Windrixville.

Maybe I should just kill myself now, to take the pain away.

I half-heartedly thought of what Ponyboy was doing right now, but the other half of me, the insane half of me, didn't care the least.

It was all about me now. I had a goal to fulfil, and no one was going to stop me.

Then again... I thought. Maybe I should warn Darry? You know, let him know what I got myself into.

I turned up at a phone booth. I didn't even mean to get there, my feet just lead me there. Maybe it was a sign? Naw, Dallas Winston doesn't believe in signs.

I put a coin in and dialled the number. After what seemed like ages, someone finally picked up.

"Hello, Darrel?" I asked.

"No, it's Steve."

I cursed under my breath. "Steve, I want to speak to Darry," I said firmly.

"I robbed a store," I told Darry when he answered the phone. "Cops are lookin' for me. Can you meet me in the park?"

"Sure, are you alright?" He asked.

I shook my head, even though I knew he couldn't see it. "Johnny's dead."

"We know."

There was a horrible silence. I felt like bursting into tears, but Dallas Winston doesn't cry. "Meet me in the park, will you?"

I didn't hear what he said next, because I hung up the phone quickly. I heard a voice in my head saying, "Don't do it, Dally, please don't do it." It repeated in my head a few times before I yelled, "Shut the hell up, Johnny!"

I froze. Where did that come from? Was I going crazy?

No, Dallas Winston may be a hood, but he ain't crazy. Not even close.

I sprinted toward the park. I could hear sirens and voices yelling my name, or just simply cursing, "you damn punk!"

Damn, I love the feeling of being the centre of attention.

The sirens and voices got closer and closer.

For once, I was having the time of my life.

I raised my heater, just as the cops raised theirs.

I wanted one thing. I wanted to die. And Dallas Winston always gets what he wants.

Do you like it? Review please :) I take suggestions, so just give me an idea and I'll put it into a one-shot :) I give credit for ideas.

- L