A/N: This is all from Dally's point of view after he got shot by the police. My first Outsiders fic so please be nice. :)
When those bullets hit me, there was little pain for I already had greater pain. I fell to the ground and everything became black. The heavy darkness was comforting and peaceful. It's a bit like closing your eyes and shutting away the damned world for a mere few seconds or minutes. Right about now, it was like the dark would never go away and I was ever so thankful for that.
I was slowly slipping away from the world I knew but I could still hear footsteps. I hadn't an idea whose footsteps it was. Maybe the cops, maybe the gang. All the sounds were muffled, like as if my head was stuck underwater and everyone was talking above me.
A whole bunch of noises were hovering around. There were sobs, screaming and yellin' that I was just a kid.
Pfft. Kid my ass. I was no kid no more.
"Easy, buddy, easy, there's nothing we can do now."
Soda's right; I'm dead, Johnny's dead. What can they do?
Suddenly, someone yelled, "Glory, look at the kid!"
Someone else seemed to collapse. Probably Ponyboy. About time too, that kid's been through more than he should've.
I stopped listening and concentrated on the black everywhere. I still felt pretty damn safe yet guilty.
Sure I've been guilty for so many things. Sent to jail for every crime imaginable and every crime unimaginable. So I wasn't really sure why I was guilty now. Is being dead a crime too?
A whole lot of sobbing was going on and that's how I realized what I was guilty for. I really was guilty for dying. The gang already has Johnny to worry and mourn over and I just made their life harder.
Damn! Death wasn't what it's cracked up to be after all. I thought being dead would feel better but it doesn't. It just gives you more time to think about how bad you screwed up your life. And I screwed up big time.
At times like this, I envy Ponyboy who still has caring brothers. Man, if I had brothers like Darry and Soda, my life would've been so much better. My folks didn't give a damn about anything I did. I'm sure my old man would've been dancing over my dead body.
Yep, that Ponyboy is a real lucky one. I can see him accomplishing great things, the pride of the greasers, and the top of the hoods.
I wonder if I could've done better if I had a better start and better support. I probably could've had a better ending.
Another thing I realized, being dead and all is that being strong and being tough are two different things. Toughness is the phony mask you put on when you're facing Socs and true strength is courage to live and face the facts of life. That's what Ponyboy has and what I lack.
If I had strength, maybe I could've become someone useful. Maybe I could've been a doctor or police to save people's lives instead of destroying them. Could that have been likely at all? Could I have put good into this world?
I guess I'll never know. It's just a bit too late.