The screen door creaks open and Two-Bit helps me in the front door. A bunch of greaser boys babying me. It was quite comedic.
I walked into the living room. Dally was sitting on the couch. His knee bouncing, he looked nervous. His head was in his hands, he didn't realize I was standing there.
"Hi." I say quietly so not to startle him, didnt work.
"Jesus christ Y/n." He snaps jumping a little. He looks immediately apologetic. "I didnt mean-"
"What are you doing here Dal?"
"I needed to talk to you." He gets up a little and takes my hand pulling me over to the couch. I let him.
"Look baby. I don't like fighting with you." He plays with my hair.
"I don't either. I just-"
"What the fuck is that?" He interrupts.
"What?"
"That." He points to my cheek.
Well shit.
"Did you fucking go back?!"
"Dal I had to. I'm pregnant, they deserve to know." I try sympathizing.
"Who let you." He prods.
"Doesn't matter. What did you come here for?"
"Who. Let. You."
"Jesus no one let me. I can make my own choices Dal. I'm not a fucking baby." I snarl.
The rest of the gang shuffles nervously in the kitchen unsure of where to go.
Dally gets up. "Who fucking let her go?!" He shouts into the kitchen.
"Dally-" Soda starts.
"I want a fucking answer! No more 'Dally' bullshit! I want to know!"
"It was me." Darry steps towards Dal. "She was close with her brother and he deserved to know."
"You fucking let her go after what happened last time?!"
"Dal you need to calm down." I get up and pull on his arm. "Let's talk."
"He hit her." He ignores me. "That huge bruise on her face. Piece of shit, he hit her. I told him never to-"
"It was my fucking dad Dally!" Tears spring to my eyes. He finally turns his gaze to me. The anger melting away replaced with recognition.
"Your dad did this?" He asks quietly. He touches my cheek gingerly. I wince only a little and he takes his hand away.
"Okay. Let's talk."