And I won't get better
But one day I'll be free
'Cause I am not this body
That imprisons me
Everything is jumpy, fragmented. You're not sure if it's real, or if Dallas got you drunk again, and it's just weird dreams. You and Ponyboy were hiding in some church, there were Civil War soldiers who took you to the Dairy Queen, and then you and Pony and Dallas Winston ate the best barbecue sandwiches you've ever had. You told Dallas to take you back to the church, and the soldiers stood at the edge of the parking lot and nodded approvingly.
The church was on fire when you got back. Dallas was swearing a blue streak about how this was worse than he could've ever imagined, and you needed to leave right fucking now. But you caught sight of the crying kids. And the Civil War boys were waving to you, motioning toward the church. You reached the burning building before you turned around. It was a lot to take in.
Ponyboy stood behind you with that same scared, but also trusting, look that he's been giving you since you jumped into the boxcar. A man and a lady and some kids just stared at you, their eyes flicking between you and the burning building. Dallas was by the car, swearing and motioning you and Pony back to him. And then those damn soldiers, so composed and galliant, waving you toward the church. It was almost like you were in a trance. You couldn't have done anything else if you'd tried.
Next thing you remember, you were handing the last kid off. There was a pop right above you, and you looked up. You could've taken Dallas's hand and escaped in that split second. But instead, you were frozen, and the falling beam hit you hard. In the end, it was Dallas who pulled you out of the church. Then there were doctors and nurses all around you. They put you in a car, and while they yelled medical gibberish, all you could do was stare at the Civil War boys. The doctors and nurses in the ambulance seemed so nervous, but all the Civil War soldiers could do was smile. They didn't seem nervous at all. The only time they seemed upset was when one of the nurses increased your dose of morphine enough for you to pass out. And even then, you remember a man squeezing your shoulder and telling you it wouldn't be much longer, before you passed out.
XXX
You come to, coughing and choking and gasping for air. You vaguely remember what happened to you, and you can't believe that you aren't in more pain. You shift your eyes, and you catch your reflection in the mirror. There's a woman rubbing your back, but something about her doesn't seem quite right. She's just like those soldiers in the ambulance.
"You did a good thing, Johnny," she says. Her voice is soft and soothing. It reminds you of Mrs. Curtis. "Those kids made it home because of you. Now, aren't you happy you didn't end it all those times?"
You're hardly conscious, but you know that something isn't right.
"How … How did you know that?"
The woman smirks and kisses your forehead. "I've been here since the beginning. Even when you couldn't see me, I was here. We all were."
You look behind her, and you notice that all the Civil War soldiers you remember from the church have gathered by her. They're all looking at you, smiling, and she's waving at you. And you know that you can't sit up; you can't walk; but you want to go with them more than anything.
XXX
A soldier who looks like Steve Randle is teaching you how to shoot a musket, and then you're jerked back into cruel reality. Sodapop, none of your other buddies, and none of the Civil War boys are around. Your mother stands in the doorway to your room instead, cursing and fighting, and you're grateful for the male nurses who are holding her back.
Somehow, in all the commotion, Two-Bit and Ponyboy manage to sneak in. You wish that the Civil War boys had been more attentive. You would have made them keep them away. You don't want to see anybody. The only people you want to see are the ones who will take you away.
Two-Bit shoves a newspaper in your face. You know what it says. Somebody else, a guy with dark curly hair and dark eyes, showed it to you earlier today. You say something noncommittal, and then something that will make him go away.
Then it's just you and Ponyboy. There's so much you want to say, but you can't seem to find the words. The lady holds your hand, and the Civil War boys stand behind her. All you can do is tell Pony that you used to want to kill yourself, but now you're not so sure. You need more time.
But you are sure, and you don't need more time. You're not sure that you want to kill yourself, but you also know that's not an option. You know you're ready to go. You just wish you could tell all of the gang goodbye personally. They were more like family to you than your parents ever were.
But Two-Bit just pats your back and leaves the book behind. He and Ponyboy leave, and one of the nurses gives you a shot of morphine. You hold the old-looking lady's arm close to your chest as you drift off to sleep. Somehow, you know what will happen.
XXX
Dallas and Ponyboy are both bleeding. It's not as bad as you thought it would be, but it's still bad. You wish they didn't have to go through this. They're your best buddies. They should go home and sleep it off. They don't have to see this. They'll understand what's happening. They'll see you at your funeral at a couple of days.
You tell them that it's useless. The fighting is useless, and they need to make peace with each other. The soldier boys smile and nod approvingly as you as you tell them this. Then Ponyboy is right next to you, and you know what you have to tell him. It's something that just he needs to hear. The soldiers will understand.
"Stay gold, Ponyboy," you whisper. You just hope he gets it, and you hope he's the only one who hears you. "Stay gold."
XXX
Your lungs were pretty far gone, but a teenager who's president of his school's chapter of the National Honor Society gets your liver. He's going to Yale in the fall, and you're so proud, even though he's a perfect stranger. A mother who was close to bleeding out during an emergency cesarean gets some of your blood. A few other things go to a few other people, but you're not really paying attention. You're just glad you could help. They can track you down if they want. Your life wasn't in vain like you thought it would be, and that's all you care about.
Your parents and the preacher are the only people there for your funeral. A couple hours later, those kids from the country and their teachers show up. It's better this way. They leave handmade cards and heartfelt feelings, and you're reminded that it's worth it.
The gang comes by the next day. Dallas is buried a few plots down a couple days later. But you're both waiting for something.
XXX
Ponyboy comes by one weekend. He spends the day by both of your graves, bearing his soul, saying just how much you meant to him, and crying. You and Dallas both pat him on the back before Sodapop picks him up and puts him in the back seat of the truck, and you hope that, somehow, he could feel you.
Isaiah 45:23 is a verse from the Bible, which is public domain, that inspired a Mountain Goats song of the same name. Said song is about chronic pain, which seems very Johnny. What do you think?