Disclaimer. I do not own The Outsiders, all rights belong to S.E Hinton.
"I'm sorry Soda, I really am."
He didn't acknowledge me. Just kept staring forward, that blank look on his face. Darry was in the room too, but he wasn't listening either.
"I know, I know it was stupid, but you wouldn't pick up the phone. I couldn't very well sleep there!"
He was mumbling something, but even I couldn't hear. My face was right next to his, centimetres from his ear, but he was defiant. Well, as much as Soda could be.
I brought my hands up to grab his head and shake it, just to get him to listen, but when I saw them I brought them back down to my sides. They were disgusting, mangled.
I moved over to Darry, he was just sitting in the armchair. His eyes were puffy, and I was ashamed.
"Come on Darry, you haven't even heard me out yet." I wanted to cry so badly, but it was impossible. Physically impossible.
I use to wish my eyes wouldn't betray me so much, they showed so much of my weaknesses. Dally use to look at them with embarrassment, sometimes Darry too. I wanted to rip my tear ducts out, burn them off. Whatever it took to make them stop what they were designed to do.
There's blood all around my mouth, over the front of my shirt too. It's all still a little wet, takes a bit longer for it to dry.
"I know it was dark, okay? But neither of you would answer, so I wanted to take some initiative, that's all I wanted to do. I swear." My body was struggling for breath, but I didn't need it. My head hurt really badly, but yet I almost couldn't feel it.
"I was at the highway; I swear I was far from the edge too. I would never walk right on the rim of the road." Dad used to say to be careful.
When I was about eight, a little girl was running from her mum. A soc too. She was probably only six, five even, but she was fast. And her mum was fairly heavy set to begin with. Her mother was screaming after her to stop, but with her older brothers that was always part of the game. The monsters chased the good girls.
I sat back against the couch. My head leaned back and my legs pulled up to my chest. Darry usually doesn't let feet on the couch, much less my muddy shoes. My hands were clasped together keeping my legs to my chest; my hands were behind my legs though, so I wouldn't see them.
There is a huge cut on my abdomen. The biggest one even I've even seen. It stretches from one side to the other. Nearly goes straight through to the other side, small bits of muscle are keeping it connected to my body. It's not even sealed over yet.
It wasn't until the little girl got to the highway did she die. A car crashed right into her, and the driver wasn't even drunk.
My hair is still wet as well, that and caked in mud. It's basically a dark brown now. Some of it keeps going in my eyes and I want to cut it all off. I would never do that though, it seems to be the only thing reasonably untouched at the moment.
"Come on Darry! Just fucking listen to me! It was raining; it was no one's fault!" My head is pounding and I feel the most angry I've ever been.
The horn was really loud, but so was the rain, and the tires screeching, and my own voice screeching.
It was all just an accident. He stopped, just not to help.
"The only reason I didn't move out of the way was because it happened so fast. That's happened to you before, yea? Like when I threw the ball and it hit you. You saw it coming but didn't move! It's pretty much the same thing Darry!" I felt like I didn't have a heart. More of a ticking time bomb in my chest; I could feel it beating just as quickly.
"I told you to never walk alone. To wait. To just fucking wait you stupid boy. So, so stupid." He just broke down when he was finished, and I sat there. He had mumbled it, and instead of feeling cold, I felt as though I was on fire. A burning hole in my chest.
The glass was still in my body, stomach and hands. Some bits were in my face too. Little shards mostly, shards to make up a windscreen.
There are lines in my back too, from the tree. If you look closely you can see small imprints that the bark left.
There's a forest next to the highway. Kids use to joke about it being haunted, dead people roaming around through the trees. Some even dragging hikers in a killing them. I don't believe it though.
When I was walking, I thought of the legends. I don't believe them, but I was still scared. Darkness and rain weather does that to you though.
The average person's reaction timing is 15-30 seconds. I read that in a book once.
The headlights were in perfect condition, that real bright yellow. Blinding, bright yellow. It was a truck, not a real truck, but one like Darry's, high off the ground and great for long camping trips. I thought the man was going on one, I saw a tarp in the back, that and a shovel. I was right too; he just ended up using them for an entirely different use.
Most of the mud on my arms is dry; some of it is actual mud, but most of it is at that hard crusty stage. It would flake off if I touched it.
I don't doubt it was an accident, but the second part wasn't.
"I'm sure he didn't mean it, Darry. He kept saying he was sorry, but he had too. He had to do it, parole doesn't give second chances." I don't know how I heard the man but I did. He was crying too, first time I had seen him cry, third time I had seen him.
Back in the second grade Johnny broke his arm. It was just on the playground, his parents were never that severe. Not then at least. I had asked him if it hurt, and it was the first time I heard him swear. Mum and dad swore all the time, but I never thought kids my age did.
Breaking your arm hurts. It's like a "Bloody fire in your arm."
My shirt use to be white, but now only the back. My jeans use to be blue, but now just patches.
I don't know exactly how it happened, but the bumper bar sliced ¾ of the way through my torso. The headlights shattered into my skin, and the windscreen broke over my body. My head had whipped back into the tree, shattering my skull, and then forward into the bonnet of the truck.
I had been stuck between a car and tree, wedged between.
Blood had pooled out of my mouth, all over my chin and shirt. My hands had been stuck by my side.
Darry didn't reply, Soda didn't reply. But only because I was dead, and they couldn't see. They don't even know where my body is.