Why Did You Leave Me? - A Sequel to Two-Bit's Kid Sister **COMPLETE**

Chapter 3

TW: MENTIONS OF SEXUAL HARASSMENT

Katherine's P.O.V.

For the past couple of days, I've been sitting in a dark basement, tied to a medal pipe on the wall. 

I lost track of time, I don't know if its day or night. Or even what day it was. 

It was Tuesday morning when I got kidnapped. For all I know, it could be Friday night. 

A jiggle on the door handle caught my attention. 

The door opened and in walked Ben.

"Time for the fun part, bitch." He said. 

Fun part? I have a feeling this isn't going to be fun.

He came over an untied the rope from around my wrist. 

"Stand up." He said.

I didn't know what he was going to do to me, but I knew it would be bad. 

I stood up, not wanting to face a punishment if I didn't.

He came over to me and started to touch me. 

"Don't touch me!" I hissed as I jerked my body away from his touch. 

"Feisty little slut, huh? Well too bad. Consider this a continuation of that night, all those months ago." He smirked. 

I remembered that night like it was yesterday. 

 I looked over to see a blue Mustang slowly trailing behind me. Oh crap. The worst feeling is when you know your about to be jumped.I looked around me for something to defend my self with, but there was nothing. I forgot to bring my switch blade with me tonight.

"Hey greaser, that ass be looking fine from over here." I turned around to see a drunken soc standing before me. He was tall, about 6 feet, with short, light brown curly hair. He is wearing a blue letter mans jacket and beige cargo pants. In my opinion, the outfit was shit. Oh, well that's how all socs dress, you gotta deal with it.

"Why don't you come over and sit on my face" Another drunken soc said. He was slightly shorter than the other one, he had straight black long-ish hair. His red shirt was partly unbuttoned and exposing his hairy chest. He was also holding a half empty beer bottle. He would be good looking if he wasn't a soc.

"Why is your nose bigger than your dick?" I responded with sass. Then the first boy had reached over and grabbed my wrist tightly. "Watch who you're talking to, grease." I tried to get loose on his grip around my wrist but it was no use. He was so close to me I can smell the liqueur on his breath. It made me want to puke.

Ben continued to touch me, "Stop!" I begged.

The socs in the blue Mustang started chanting: "Do it Ben, do it!" The boy with the long black hair, who I now know as Ben, came over and grabbed both my wrists. He looked much taller closer up. He looked at me with pure darkness and anger in his eyes.

"Guys, get lost I'm gonna teach this little sassy greaser a lesson." He said with a smirk on his face while the other soc got back in the car and they all drove away. I started to get really scared of what he was about to do to me.

He grabbed my throat tightly, "Shut up bitch! I'm not gonna stop so just deal with it!" Ben snarled.

He pulled me close, his breath was hot and gross on my neck, and started kissing my neck harshly biting me a bit each time. I tried to squirm out of his tight grasp but I couldn't. "LET ME GO!" I screamed. "SOMEONE HELP ME THERE IS A WEIRD MAN TOUCHING ME!" I screamed at the top of my lungs.

After I said that he grabbed my throat with a tight grip. It knocked the wind right out of me. "I don't think you want to do that little missy." He snarled.

He started making his way down to my boobs. I was scared.

He still had a tight grip on my throat and I couldn't breathe. I chocking and coughing, gasping for air. 

He pinned my arms above my head as he tried to take off my jeans. I kept my legs tight together, in an attempt to make him not be able to pull off my pants.

"Spread your legs." He said.

"No." 

He pulled out a heater from his waist band and pointed it at my head. 

"You either die now, or later. You pick. Because either way, by the end of this, your gonna die. Now, spread. Your. Legs." He ordered. 

I didn't move. 

He pushed the barrel of the gun deeper into my flesh. I slightly spread my legs and he dragged my jeans down my thighs and off my ankles.

He forcefully took off the rest of my cloths and started to take off his own clothes. 

"Get on the floor." He said. 

I got on the cold, cement, floor with tears silently streaming down my face. 

Steve's P.O.V.

I sat on the couch in the Curtis' house. Two-Bit was sitting on the floor watching Mickey Mouse, Ponyboy was beside me reading a book, Darry was in the arm chair, reading the news paper. Everyone was pretty much doing what they normally would be doing as if everything was normal. 

The fuzz found out we hung up missing person posters and took them down. They let us off with a warning.

 The police thought we were doing this for attention. I can't believe that. They are supposed to be helping us and other people in these situations. Its because we're greasers, we're hoods and JD's. They think we're a menace to the society, when only we're trying to get by with the little things we have.

We are exactly like other people, we just have less money. Everyone always thinks the socs are the good guys. I'm not saying us greasers act like angels - we don't - what I'm saying is, we deserve a chance too.

I wondered what was happening to Katherine right now, if she was even alive. I hopped she was okay and that we can find her before its too late, if it already isn't too late. 

I had the sodden urge to vomit. I got up from my spot on the couch and went to the bathroom. Locking the door, I went over to the toilet and emptied the contents of my stomach. 

I sat back on the floor, leaning against the wall. I got up, flushed the toilet and rinsed my mouth out. 

I walked back outside and sat on the couch.

"Hey Steve, you okay man?" Johnny asked.

"Yeah I'm fine. My stomach just hurts a little." I partially lied. My stomach did hurt, but I wasn't fine. 

I got up and went in the kitchen. I opened the fridge and got a can ginger ale. Before my mom died, she would tell me to drink ginger ale or sprite when stomach hurt, and that water would only make me feel worse. 

I sat at the kitchen table, taking sips of my ginger ale and drumming my fingers on the table top.

I finished my ginger ale and angrily squashed the can and tossed it in the recycling bin. I went up stairs and went into the spare bedroom and laid down on the bed, taking a very needed nap. I don't think I got even twenty minutes of sleep in the past two days. But surprisingly, I fell asleep.