Disclaimers: S.E. Hinton owns The Outsiders.

A/N: Here it is.

Insomnia

Chapter I

I can hear them in the walls.

They whisper and scratch on the wooden panels between the walls of our little home. They moan and they groan.

I don't know who they are.

I can't pick out the voices. They're raspy and distorted, cracking and unbalanced, no melody present.

They plague my dreams. They whisper things in my ear while I sleep. I can't understand what they say. They don't sound happy. Don't sound safe and welcoming.

I don't like them.

I don't sleep anymore. Every night they get louder, their whispers more desperate and angry. They taunt me each time I shut my eyes, getting closer and closer.

Sodapop knows I don't sleep. He worries. I want to tell him about the terrifying voices, I want to tell him he should be worried, that I'm scared out of my wits. But I can't. They'll hurt him if I do. They told me. So I tell him I'm fine, knowing he doesn't believe me, and I move back into my own room.

But being alone makes it worse. They get louder, and louder, and I wish I had Sodapop to cuddle into for protection.

I blame the Socs. I blame the fountain, when they drowned me. I blame the rumble, when they kicked me in the head, giving me a concussion.

Yes, that's it. It's just the concussion. Just my mind playing tricks on me.

Somehow, I know it's not.

It's not the Socs. It's me. It's them.

I'm tired. So overwhelmingly tired. But no, I can't sleep. I won't. They race up to me in my sleep. I'm vulnerable then. They're already so close...

I hear them in the walls.

I hear them under my bed.

I hear them in the drain.

I hear them in the attic.

They're everywhere.

"You have to sleep, Ponyboy."

Darry doesn't understand. None of them do. I can't go to sleep.

I shake my head.

"Come on. You're practically dead on your feet. We know you haven't slept in days."

No, I tell him.

"He's right kiddo. You can't do this to yourself. It's not good for you."

I want to tell Sodapop that they are not good for me, that sleep isn't good for me. I say no again.

"No arguments. Bed, Ponyboy. Go to sleep. Now."

Darry's voice is stern and demanding, but it doesn't effect me. It's not his voice I'm afraid of.

No.

My brothers sigh, and the leave the room. I switch the TV on, making sure my brain stays active and my eyelids remain open. I try to eavesdrop and overhear on Darry and Soda's conversation in the kitchen, but their voices are too loud. I can only make out a few scattered words from the kitchen.

"Darry ... Can't ..."

"Dad ... Safe ..."

"Not ..."

"Pale ... sick ... doctor ..."

"Fine ..."

Minutes later they return to the living room, carrying three cups of hot chocolate. Darry hands me one, and I notice Sodapop watching me as he took his seat on the other side of the couch.

I think the drink will do me good. Distract me a little, maybe.

It tastes different. Maybe Soda added too much sugar or milk.

I drink it anyway.

It isn't long until my eyelids get heavy. My limbs get weak and my mouth goes dry. I fee both my brother's gaze as I attempt to keep my eyes open, failing miserably.

The voices are louder.

NoNoNoNoNoNo

This can't happen. I can't go to sleep. Why am I going to sleep?

I feel Sodapop's soft arms around me, guiding my body to lay down on the couch, stretching out my legs.

Darry comes with a blanket, gently spreading it out on top of me.

The voices get closer.

What's happening?

"I'm sorry, Pone. But you got to sleep. It's not healthy. You'll hurt yourself, kiddo."

Darry? What did you do?

But I can't speak. Can't move.

My eyelids are anchors.

Soda smooths my hair back, shushing me.

"Go to sleep now, Honey."

No!

But my eyelids drop, firmly closing shut.

I can't reopen them.

The voices get louder.

And louder.

And louder.

They're coming.

I hear them in the walls.

I hear them in the TV.

I hear them under the couch.

I hear them in the blanket.

I hear them in my ears.

They're here.

Did I scare you?