Silent Song
Disclaimer: No, silly, I never have nor will I ever own The Outsiders. S.E. Hinton owns The Outsiders. *sighs* :( I simply borrow them for my own creative enjoyment purposes.
Summary: May 7, 1966. A day Johnny will forever remember. The reason he started carrying a switchblade, told from his Point of View. One-Shot
~ May 7, 1966. 6:47 p.m. ~
When nights like these occurred, Johnny was thankful for the silence. After everything that had happened, he was relieved just to sit in the lot with only the sound of the wind through the trees to distract his mind. Tulsa didn't have a lot of peaceful places, but the lot was a rare exception, and for a minute Johnny could forget that he was in the middle of an abandoned lot because his parents were drunk and arguing, and that he lived on the dirt poor side of town and would probably be stuck there until the day he died. But only for a moment, because what happened that night at the lot would forever change Johnny's life.
His head was lying on top of an old log, while a few stray newspapers floated around the lot, seeming to dance to a silent song as the wind picked up speed and strength. Johnny's mind was mostly blank as he gazes up upon the sky, until a low rumble in the distance sent a surge of fear through his body.
Johnny jumped up, prepared to run, but the car was too close for a successful escape. He couldn't outrun a Mustang. As he waited, preparing, he erased any emotion from his face, clenched his fists, and stared straight ahead, a stance he had taken many times before. He didn't know that this time it would be so different. That the teenager behind the wheel would be wearing rings that split open the flesh and instilled into Johnny a fear that he had never known before.
Four guys stumbled out of the Mustang, completely wasted. The fact sent a chill through Johnny; you could reason a sober man. They felt pain, and they knew fear. Drunk teenagers were merciless machines that only saw their target as a piece of entertainment in their drunk, rich, and cushy lives.
"Well, well, well. What do we have here, boys? Looks like it's trash day, and we need to some cleaning up around this part."
"Come on, man. Go back to the West side. This is our territory," Johnny warned, his voice hard, hiding the fear that truly lurked in him.
"I don't think you're going to get that lucky tonight, grease. We've got nothing but time, and I think it's time to teach your kind a lesson."
Johnny gulped. He was surrounded, and there were four of them to his one. His eyes scanned for something, or someone, anything that could help him, but he was left completely alone and defenseless.
The first blow came out of nowhere. The hit to the side of his head left him dizzy, but he swung anyway, and managed to hit someone square in the nose. Blood began to flow, but it didn't seem to phase the guy that much, although it earned Johnny a kick behind his legs. He tumbled to the ground as fists and feet began flying mercilessly. As the driver sent blows to Johnny's face and back, the pain was worse than any punch he had ever felt. The rings tore open his skin, making it into a bloody, painful wound like nothing Johnny and experienced from a Soc. The experience seemed to go on forever, and even as Johnny struggled against their grasps, it didn't seem to make a difference.
"Wanna know something, grease? It doesn't matter. Your kind doesn't matter. Scum like you don't belong around here, and you better start keeping to your side of town or else we'll come back for you. Don't think we don't know where to find you," the driver whispered into Johnny's ear, his breath reeking of whiskey and peppermint. The smell sickened Johnny as he laid in the middle of the lot, shaking, while blood trickled out of his wounds, but he was too weak to even move. Finally, the Socs left him after one more hard kick to the ribs. Unable to help himself anymore, Johnny let a tear fall, until they continued to fall and he couldn't control them anymore. He felt completely alone, and more terrified than he had ever felt before.
7:17
Footsteps began to approach Johnny, and at first he was terrified that it might be the Socs coming back to finish him off. But the familiar sound of Soda and Steve's voice sent Johnny from panicked to elated.
"Johnny! Oh my God, man," Steve mumbled, his voice filled with disbelief.
"Oh my God. Give me a second. I'm gonna go get, Darry, alright? Just give me a second," Soda reassured him, panic covering the blond's face. He took off running towards the Curtis house, leaving Johnny with Sodapop and Ponyboy.
"You're gonna be okay, Johnny," Ponyboy reassured him, his voice sounding much older than fourteen. Johnny could only lie there, and the only sounds that filled the air now was the sound of Johnny's labored breathing.
Please, help me, Johnny wanted to beg, but he was too tired to even make a sound. Steve was gone only about five minutes before he returned with the rest of the gang, but it felt like an eternity to the dark-haired greaser, who seemed to panic at every unknown noise that he heard as he waited.
"Darry?" Johnny croaked when the gang appeared in his field of vision, tears all of a sudden flowing freely. He could feel himself violently shaking, but he couldn't do anything to stop it; everything took way too much energy.
"Shh, Johnny. It's okay, man," Darry assured the younger boy gently. "You're gonna be okay."
Johnny nodded ever so slightly, but he knew it was never going to be okay again. That night, without even knowing it, the Socs has stolen something that could never be given back. They stole any ounce of security that Johnny had and stomped on it.
Johnny knew that nothing was going to be the same ever again.
Thank you so much for reading! As always, I would so appreciate it if you reviewed!
Stay Gold,
~ Alee XxX
