As I stepped out of the library into the dim evening light, I had only two things on my mind; Paul Newman, of course, and the vague recollection of having forgotten to bring a cell-phone with me when I left early that morning.

I have always wanted to write that sentence. Or something like it, at least.

Don't get me wrong. While The Outsiders was and had always been my favorite book, I was long past my years of pining over Ponyboy Curtis and writing cringe-worthy romance fanfiction about the guy.

I was in need of a distraction. I had a half-an-hour walk in forty-degree weather, my books were heavy, and it was starting to get dark. If considering whether Two-Bit had a genuine alcohol problem or not was what it took to not send myself into a panic, then that was what I was going to do.

Despite my wandering mind, I still felt myself jerk at the sight of something in my peripheral vision. I spun around to see my reflection in a salon window.

"Oh my gosh." With my hand on my heart, I walked a little faster.

The road next to me was surprisingly devoid of any traffic. Usually, the road was frequently used, as so many building and shops used sat somewhere along it. The idea, paired up with my growing unease, had me looking over my shoulder.

I didn't expect to find anyone. I didn't hear any footsteps behind me, and I didn't feel like I was being watched the way I expected I would.

I turned my head, and sure enough, on the other side road the road, was someone walking, just a couple meters behind me.

The hooded figure didn't look up at me. I felt I could assume, by the figures broad shoulders and way of walking, that this person was a male.

I took a deep breath, turning to look ahead again. A million questions whirled in my mind. Who was this stranger? Why was he walking so closely behind me? And silently?

The conclusions my mind came to were horrifying. I looked back at the man, who was still walking, looking straight ahead. Hesitantly, I waved.

No response.

I turned back again. He's not a rapist. He's not a rapist. My mind flashed to Ponyboy Curtis, about to be jumped by the Socs. I thought about how in denial he was after his best friend died,repeating the mantra in his head, "Johnny's not 's not dead."

Anxious laughter built up in my chest. I walked a little faster, past the art studio and the new pizza restaurant that was surprisingly vacant despite the fact that it had to be open.

I don't know what it was that made me freeze in that second. Maybe I felt what was about to happen. Maybe I realized I was all alone, so he could do what he wanted anyways.

Too aware of how dizzy I suddenly felt, I turned my head to look behind me. There he was, stopped a few meters behind me, body twisted toface me. Panicked, I dropped my books, breaking into a run.

I couldn't hear his steps, but I could feel them crossing the street to meet mine. I felt hands on my back and let out a scream as I fell.

My chin collided with the ground. I can still remember the cracking sound. I wasn't sure if it was my chin or my hands failed attempt to catch myself,because the pain that reverberated through my arm hurt just as much.

I couldn't open my mouth- not even to scream as I felt a kick to my side. I let out gasp after painful gasp trying to get my lungs to work properly.

I could see black spots in my vision. Even in my panicked state, I thought of Johnny Cade, getting jumped by the soc and dying after the fire.

I wondered If this was what it felt like inside of the burning church. Every breath Itook burned but I couldn't stop. All of my bones ached and despite being in the freezing air, I felt as though someone had set my body on fire.

I wondered if this was what it felt like to die.

I thought of my sister and my dog and my parents. I mustered the strength to open my eyes one more time.

The last thing I saw was a black boot as it collided with my face.