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❝loving you was the most exquisite form of self-destruction.❞
I took a deep breath as Steve pulled up in front of my house. He got out on the other side, and then sent me a look. I wasn't prepared to go in and face my brothers; they would be pissed off at me and I knew it.
Reluctantly, I got out of Steve's messy car. I walked up slowly to the front door, him following close behind. When I reached the door, I put a shaking hand on the doorknob and cautiously entered my house.
Darry was sitting in his armchair, reading today's edition of the newspaper. As soon as I entered the house, my oldest brother shot up from his position and stormed over to me. "Where the hell have you been?!"
I wasn't in the mood, and didn't want to get mad in front of Steve, "I was visiting mom and dad last night, okay? I lost track of time and it was pouring, so I went to the closest place I knew, which happened to be the DX." I explained calmly, looking Darry straight in the eyes.
"Oh, yeah? Meanwhile you're older brothers are worried sick about you but they can't even call the cops because you would be put into a girls home so fast it would make your head spin!" he raised his voice, making me flinch. Darry rarely ever raised his voice at me, and it scared me when he did.
I motioned for Steve to leave so he didn't have to witness what was going on. His DX shirt was in the car because all of my clothes dried overnight, so I threw them on this morning. He looked at me in concern, but I motioned again for him to leave. Reluctantly, he did, and I turned back to Darry.
"I understand, okay? Sorry for being such a bother, I know you don't want me here. I'm just another mouth to feed." I seethed, doing my best to push past my oldest brother. However, he gripped my wrist tightly and I cried out. He gripped my wrist exactly where a few Socs had cut me a few days ago. I didn't tell them, though. I wanted to keep my facade up and besides, I wasn't carrying a blade. I knew that if I did, Darry would get mad at me for carrying one. Everything I did made him mad, he just chose not to yell at me most of the time.
At my yelp of pain, Sodapop came running into the room and pushed Darry off of me. Ponyboy also came rushing through, and gently moved me away from Darry.
"Don't touch her like that, man!" Soda exclaimed, and soon my twin joined on the yelling.
Darry got tired of it pretty quickly, "Stop sticking up for her! I'm sick and tired of you guys doing everything for Logan, she needs to learn to do things herself!" he exclaimed, and my eyes swelled with tears.
"Don't talk to her like that! She's trying her best!" Pony yelled back, and Soda shoved Darry back a little bit. Darry just got mad all over again, but I knew he didn't have the courage to hit any of them. My two youngest-older brothers meant too much to him, but I knew that I was just a bother. He usually wasn't like this, but when he was, he sure did make me feel worthless.
As they yelled at each other, I decided to slip away. They wouldn't notice; at least not the older two. Pony... he was a maybe. He did his best to really help me, and most times he succeeded. However, there were still those times when he was too busy listening to Sodapop, but it's whatever.
When I got into my room, I decided to lock the door. I wanted to cry, to scream and to shout like hell at that moment... but I knew I had to keep a smile on my face. I was forced to fake my happiness, and it was killing me inside.
It would be so nice just to have someone to list all your problems to. I used to have somebody who'd always listen to everything going on in my head. Eight months ago, I lost her.
I've learned over time that if you don't let it out, grief becomes a scream trapped inside of your soul. It becomes a constant cry in the dark, and a sob you can never release. That's why I always choose to scream, to shout, and to cry the way the sky does with thunder lightning and rain. I know I'm being cleansed just like the storm is being cleansed. It may not be around people, and my friends and family may never know, but I do find a way to let it all out.
Another thing I've learned is that grief is just love. It's all the love you want to give, but cannot. All of that unspent love gathers up in the corners of your eyes, and in that lump in your throat.
Suddenly, I realized that I was crying. I had spent so much time in my head, telling myself that Darry didn't care about me, thinking about my mom and dad, and all around thinking about how much I hate myself that I didn't realize I had begun to cry.
"Why do the best people always have to be taken away from us?" I asked, staring at my ceiling. I hated the fact that I was crying; I hated myself. I hated myself for not staying strong for my mother. I hated myself for almost revealing my facade to my brothers, and the gang. I hated myself because I wasn't beautiful, and that was the truth.
Mom always used to tell me that I was beautiful. She always told me she loved my long bright red hair, and my icy yet welcoming blue eyes. As much as I tried to convince myself that she was right, I couldn't bring myself to believe it. I wasn't beautiful. She was.
I could still hear my brothers screaming at each other through the walls. At that moment, my mind drifted to Dally.
Dallas Winston and I had little in common, but there was one major thing we shared.
We both had brightly-lit, facade-less faces, hiding our true, depressing feelings from the cruel, sad, unaccepting world we live in.
johnnycakes- pony; "are you fRiCKInG kiddINg mE dARRY ?!"
a/n: you matter. please stay. i love you. remember there is a light at the end tunnel. if it's not okay, it's not the end. the national suicide prevention lifeline is 1800-273-8255.
