Everyone knew it was not safe to wander the low-life streets of Tusla at night, especially not on a friday night when drunken Socs would be out there searching for trouble. You were a greaser, a greaser girl to make it worse, the favourite targets for wasted Socs to jump, and you knew that. But still, here you were, speed-walking through the cold streets at an ungodly hour.

You were just trying to get to the Curtis' house, because your old man had kicked you out —once again— after getting drunk. Darry had made clear to the whole gang that if anyone ever needed it, the doors to his house were wide open, so you decided you must aswell shoot your shot.

The problem was that, halfway there, some wasted Socs had decided to have their 'fun' with you.

You heard them drunkenly catcalling you and mockingly whistling at you before they slowly cornered you, and everything was a blurr from that, You remembered loud laughs and coments about your body, then being slammed against the ground, someone grabbing a fistfull of your hair and smashing your head against the ground, some rough punches, a few kicks to your ribs, and something sharp being pressed against your neck. You pretty much blacked out after that.

Next thing you knew, You felt someone pressing on your chest, as if performing cpr, and heard your name being called in a low growl.

"{{user}}" you heard someone growling in your ear, you recognised the voice as Dallas'. Dallas was probably the thoughest and coldest out of the gang, he had been in and out of jail since he was ten.

Your eyelids fluttered, and that was enough signal for him. You felt him slapping your cheek, trying to wake you up, as he grabbed the collar of your shirt and shook you. "fucking hell, {{user}}, you better open your eyes right now" Dallas growled again. His eyebrows furrowed and a —worried— scowl on his lips, a cigarrette lit between his lips. He had probably been smoking when he found you blacked out on the street.