It's been fifteen years. Fifteen years, but of what though? I spent the first five trying to piece my life back together and trying to forget that vile man's menacing smile and his psychotic chuckle. Its hard to believe I was just 14 when it all happened. To Soda, its nothing but the fading past, but to me, its reality. I relive that day.

Over and over.

The images in my mind, they replay with no end. I'll wake up with my face drenched in sweat and cramps in my gut. The nightmares, they never cease. In my dreams, the rain will whip around as Rick's hand knocks on the window of our car.

BANG, BANG, BANG.

In others, I'll be cradling Jim in my arms and wailing for him to stay alive. In my dream, I know he's going to die. But it's the transition that I cant bear. The worst two are Nash's death and having my life flash before my eyes at that gas station. I tried to live with myself, I did. But I soon found why Nash took her own life like the way she did. I needed help, the whole gang could see that. While Soda was able to pull on a mask and carry on as if life was as usual, it was harder for me to do the same. Complements of the Texas police station, they supported me to see a therapist for two years. I would've gone longer but, unlike that second day when all I wanted was to talk for hours about it, I felt as if I was being constrained into a life that was no longer mine.

"How are you today, Mr. Curtis?" the therapist soothed, eyeing me as I took the seat opposite him.

"I don't want to do this anymore,"

"Excuse me?"

"Tell the police station they don't have to send a check next month. I don't want to do this anymore. I'm sorry." I told him and, just as soon as I'd sat down, I got up and walked right out of that office.

I thought that was the end but it only got worse. Over time, I found a way to deal with the memories and the nightmares. However, I never did accept it. Dealing with something and accepting it are two completely different things. And I know I'll never be able to accept it. Or forgive Rick for what he'd done. Unlike the peaceful state I had been in after killing him, my emotions became like choppy waters and I never again felt so peaceful as I did on that day.

Before I knew it, 15 years had passed by and I was living in an apartment with my girlfriend, Cherry Valance, I was 29 and it was 1980. I didn't start dating Cherry until I was 21 and there were no more socs and greasers. As we matured, the labels seemed to be lifted. She was also one of the reasons that my condition started to better itself. While I was with her, letting myself get captured by her gaze, I forgot about all of it. I felt as if a heavy load of baggage was being lifted from my shoulders and I could finally breath without worrying myself. When I was with her, I felt free. And the twisted thing was, she reminded me of Nash.

We lost Johnny. Not his life, but we lost him, in his head we were strangers. Since his injury was a gash in the side of his head, it messed with his brain, he didn't remember any of us. It felt as if I was slowly being sliced at the throat when he didn't know who I was.

"You can see him now," the nurse said softly as she opened the door to Johnny's room. Her eyes, they held a painful secret, I could tell. As I entered and rushed to his bed side, I felt my stomach squeeze.

"Johnny!" I exclaimed, grabbing a hold of his arm. But he pulled his arm away from me and seemed as if he were frightened of me. He had a gauze over the side of his face and small scrapes on the bridge of his nose.

"Who are you?" he asked, his face confused.

"Johnny, its me! Ponyboy!"

"Excuse me?"

"Ponyboy Curtis! Your best friend? I saw you last at the police station after Sodapop was taken away. I'm sorry I left you there alone, Johnny. But at least you're alive." Johnny's expression didn't lift when I explained myself, he only got more confused. "Remember?" I asked, my voice turning to a slight wail.

"I don't know any Sodapop or Ponyboy, and I definitely don't remember any police station. All I know is, I woke up in this hospital and they told me I was lucky to be alive. I'm sorry but, if I knew you, I don't remember you. Doc says I lost my memory." I felt my nose start to burn and tears well up in my eyes. How could Johnny not remember me? To him, I was nothing but a stranger. Finally, I let the tears roll down my cheeks and dribble down to my chin.

"How can you not remember me, Johnny? We're like brothers, you and me. After all we've been through, I cant believe you don't remember me!" I sobbed, sinking my fingers into his shoulder. I could tell my pain was having an effect on him. His hardened and confused face melted and his bottom lip started to quiver as mine was.

"I'm sorry. But to me, you're nothing but a stranger."

It took eight years to get Johnny back. Not remembering his parents any more than he remembered me, he refused to live with them. He was sent to live in a boys home across town in which we visited him until he trusted us enough to move in with us. Sometimes, when we were together, laughing, he'd remember something and start to cry.

Doubled over with laugher, I grasped Johnny's shoulder and let out a hyena-like laugh - something I hadn't done in a while. Abruptly, Johnny's laughing cut out and his eyes went wide, his expression blank.

"Johnny?" I beckoned, looking at him. He took moments to respond and to snap out of his gaze. With tears welling in his eyes, he turned to me.

"We were at the lot. You were beside me, softly laughing as you looked up at the stars. It was night time. And the fire was reflecting off your face as you laughed." I lightly rested my hand on his shoulder and rubbed it, soothingly.

"Yeah,"

Sobbing, Johnny hunched over. "I wish I could remember. Really, I do, Pony." He then looked to me, tears stained against his tan face. "Why cant I remember?"

Although Johnny had partially recovered from his injury, he'd never be the same. We'd never really get Johnny back. A reoccurring contemplation entered my mind constantly, and I cursed at the very thought of it, despite that it was true. Rick was the cause of all this. I would remain bitter at the man for the rest of my life.

But what I didn't know, was that I was about to be met with the same situation. And like most circumstances, one in particular that had destroyed my life, it all started with a stupid idea.