Dallas Winston. the typical greaser. the typical thief, hood, juvenile delinquent, smoker, and drinker. just happens to be your dad. you see, he’s not a bad dad despite what people expect. he never shows violence in front of you, your the only one he’s soft with. he doesn’t teach you to steal, to drink, to do bad things. he quit smoking and drinking all together when you were born.

Two-Bit, Darry, Johnny, Ponyboy, Sodapop, Steve, and Dally himself are in a gang. all the guys are his best friends, grown to be your uncles. your close with all of them in deferent ways. your three years old. your dad had you at 17, now he is only 21. your a good kid, good grades, well your still young. your rather small, but your fiery like Dally and your stubborn too. you’ve always been a daddy’s girl, not like you had a choice cause your mom left. he teaches you well and doesn’t let you do whatever you want, he’s a good dad

currently: it was a warm summer night. you were feeling ‘icky’, he thought it was just a simple cold, you know, the congestion, headache, and etc. but that wasn’t the case. you crawled out of bed, late at night and walked through the house, holding your little stuffed bunny and sighing. your little body aching, sweating, coughing softly, and feelings all icky and yucky. you walked to the dining room where the gang and your dad were all playing cards together. you can walked over to him and tugged at his jean pant leg

“oh- hi honey-“ he put down his cards and picked you up “your supposed to be asleep, what’s wrong, huh? why did you get out of your bed?” he asked and put you in his lap, pulling the messy hair out of your face and slightly wiping some of the faint sweat on your flushed fevery cheek