Request by Waffles in the house/Waffles14.
I don't know if you're the same person because the name and concept are so similar, but if you are not, I'm sorry that I combined the two ideas that were pitched. They were just so similar. Please tell me if you're the same person or not.
Either way, I hope you enjoy this.
Warning: One-shot contains possibly triggering themes.
Summary: The entire gang is kidnapped and Ponyboy is forced to undergo torture right in front of them.
o-o-o
Ponyboy woke up with a pounding headache. It felt like somebody had slammed a sledgehammer against his temples. He groaned, shaking his head, struggling to open his eyes. But when he did, he slowly looked around, but only saw darkness.
'It must be nighttime,' Ponyboy realized, wanting to just fall back asleep so that his headache would go away. He went to reposition himself since his back and neck were killing him but found that there was something tight around his wrists. Confused, Ponyboy tried to pull his wrists apart, but whatever was around them only tightened more, digging so tightly into his skin that bruises were forming.
He snapped awake, sitting up straight and began to struggle more, now feeling the prickliness of a rope. He bit at it, but all of his attempts were futile. What was going on? Where was he? Where was everyone else? Wasn't he just with them?
Oh, Christ. What was going to happen to him?
Ponyboy's heartbeat was pounding so quickly that it felt like his heart was going to leap out of his chest and run away from him. Cold sweat was running down his increasingly warmer body.
He had to calm down. He had to calm down! Ponyboy took a shaky, deep inhale of air. He held it in his mouth for a few moments before letting the air back out. As he repeated this process, he felt his nerves start to relax.
'Okay, Ponyboy, think,' he reasoned with himself. 'What happened?'
Scrunching his eyebrows together, Ponyboy tried to remember everything that happened that day, but all he remembered was him waking up in the morning and hanging out with the gang.
The gang!
He wondered where they were and if they were searching for him. They must be worried sick. He had to get out of here! But how? He couldn't even see a foot ahead of him.
A groan from somewhere nearby caused Ponyboy to jump. He wasn't alone. A bead of sweat fell down his forehead into his eye.
What if whoever tied him up was there with him?
Ponyboy felt his anxiety and panic bubble up again, but then someone bellowed, "What…? What the hell?"
He knew that voice. He calmed down, breathing out a sigh of relief.
"Dally?" he slowly asked.
A second later there was a response. "Ponyboy? Where are we? What happened?"
"I… I don't know. I just woke up myself."
Dally grunted as he struggled against his restraints, simultaneously padding down his pockets to the best of his ability for his switch-blade. "Dammit! My blade's gone, man!"
Dally continued to thrash and curse. Unbeknown to them, his struggling woke up everyone else in the general area.
"What's with the racket?" Darry yawned, waking up. It took half a second before he saw that something was wrong. He opened his mouth to speak, but Steve spoke the question that was on everybody's mind.
"Where the hell are we?" Steve asked, struggling.
"We don't know," Ponyboy answered.
"Does anyone remember what happened before this?" Darry asked. No one said anything. They were all as lost as he was.
Johnny curled into himself, wincing when the ropes around his wrists dug into his bruises. He dug his head in his knees, hands trembling. He was absolutely petrified. If all of them were there, who was going to save them? Besides their parents, who would even notice or care that they are gone?
They were trapped there.
Before anyone else could speak again, the lights turned on, causing them to shut their eyes and hiss in pain. When their eyes adjusted to the light, they looked around. Sure enough, all seven of them were there, tied up in a basement that was cluttered in random items thrown about. It was dusty, so much so that it seemed like a layer of ash covered everything.
"You're awake!" someone called out. A moment later, another person came into view. It was someone around Darry's age, maybe older with how messed up he looked. He had scruffy, disheveled hair that looked like it hadn't been touched for years. His eyes were bloodshot and glassy, almost unfocused. He looked like a madman who was doing drugs. He probably was. He didn't look mentally right whatsoever.
"Who are you?" Darry demanded, eyes glaring holes into the man.
The man grinned but didn't answer the question. "I was wondering when you would all wake up. For a moment, I thought I overdosed you. I thought you were all about to die with how long you were all knocked out. It wouldn't have been worth dragging you around if you died."
When did he get the chance to drag them around without them waking up? What time was it? How long have they been knocked out? The last thing that they remembered was going out to eat together at a diner. They all sat at their table, waiting for their drinks to arrive. They were too deep in a conversation to look at who was their waiter or what they looked like. Their drinks were placed in front of them… and then it was hazy.
"You roofied us?" Two-Bit asked with shock clearly written on his face.
"How else could I get you all here?"
"Asking would have been nice." Everyone ignored him.
"What do you want with us?" Soda demanded, hands trembling from behind his back. "Why us? We don't know you. We didn't do anything to you."
"But you do know me…or one of you does." The man turned to Darry, glowering. "Remember, Curtis?"
Darry's eyes narrowed as he tried to place the man's face. He did seem familiar, now that he thought about it, but he couldn't quite place it. He shook his head. "I don't know you."
The man growled. "Number fifty-four."
At those words, Darry's eyes widened in recognition. He let out a small gasp. Now he recognized him. It belonged to someone who used to be on his football team. However, he never got to play with him too long as he suddenly disappeared one day. He used to be a very good-looking man with his life ahead of him, but now, he looked like he's been to hell and back. What happened? "Patrick?"
"Bingo, asshole."
"What happened to you?"
"You happened."
Darry was confused. He never talked to him directly. How could he have broken him like that without interacting with him?
"Oh, great, what did you do, Darry?" Steve groaned.
"I… I don't know," Darry answered, looking even more confused.
"I'll tell you what he did. He ruined my life. My future. My everything!"
"I didn't do anything to you! We never actually talked!"
Patrick scoffed. "Man, you're so ignorant! You told the coach that I was on steroids! Because of you, I was kicked off the team."
"How would being kicked off the football team ruin your life? You were using banned drugs to cheat in the game! You deserved to be kicked off."
"You don't get it! The football team was the only thing that I had going right. My grades weren't good, but I played football well. My parents were depending on me getting a fucking scholarship so that I could go to college. When I was kicked off the team, no other team would let me join and no college would accept me. I got expelled from high school eventually after my life started to fall apart. My parents disowned me and kicked me out of the fucking house! I had drug abuse on my fucking records, and it took a long time for me to even get a job, and even that is terrible."
Darry's mouth shut. He didn't know what to say. "I'm… sorry… That sounds awful."
"Because it is, dumbass. You made my life a living hell and now I'm going to make you witness your world fall apart before your eyes like I had to do with mine."
"What are you going to do?" Darry sat up straighter. He had a really bad feeling all of a sudden.
"By killing everyone you love, of course."
"Don't kill anyone! You can turn your life around! You can't bring dead people back!" Darry tired to reason, eyes widening in panic. This couldn't be happening right now. This couldn't be!
Patrick stomped over to Johnny who was trembling in fear. He shook his head rapidly, scooting away from him, but it was futile. Patrick was already looming over him.
"If you lay one finger on him, I'll—" Dally started to growl but was cut off.
"You'll what? You can't do anything," Patrick mused. He grabbed Johnny's hair roughly, pulling it backward. Johnny yelped, causing everyone's heart to stop, minus Patrick's.
"Don't you touch him!" Ponyboy screamed, turning Patrick's attention to him. He watched as the madman's face turned from annoyance to amusement and felt a chill go down his spine.
"And you must be Ponyboy, Darry's little brother," he mused, practically throwing Johnny to the ground, who instantly turned back to a quivering mess. Patrick spun around, marching over to Ponyboy and grabbing him by the neck and slamming him onto the floor. He banged his head on the cement, causing his vision to darken along the edges. There was a ringing in Ponyboy's ears making it hard to hear the screams and pleads of the gang.
Before he knew what exactly was happening, a fist collided with his jaw and his head snapped back. He could feel his blood pool in his mouth from biting his tongue, the taste of iron almost overwhelming. He gasped for air as the grip on his neck tightened.
"Let him go!" someone screamed, but Ponyboy couldn't tell who it was. Another blow hit his jaw and Ponyboy saw stars. The beating kept happening for another minute before they just stopped. Bruises were already forming, one of his eyes already turning dark. Ponyboy whimpered, lying frozen on the ground. He was in too much pain to move.
It hurt. It hurt so much. Every muscle in his body felt like they were being stabbed. Tears were falling down his eyes, mixing with his blood. He struggled to reopen his eyes but managed to do so. However, he wished that he didn't.
Staring back at him was a sick smile that could send chills up anyone's spine. Patrick glanced at the gang, specifically on Darry, eyes glistening mischievously. "You know what?" he started, turning back to Ponyboy. "I think I'm going to let you live, Ponyboy."
Ponyboy should have felt at ease, but he knew that there was going to be a twist that would make him wish that he was dead. And, was he right about that…
Patrick bent down to whisper in Ponyboy's ears. "I'm going to break you, degrade you to just a shell of who you were before."
What was he going to do? But he got his answer when he felt Patrick's hands on his upper thigh. His eyes shot open and he felt his heart stop. "No…" he whimpered. "Please, no."
"Get the fuck off of him!" Darry screamed.
"Pony!" Johnny cried out.
Ponyboy struggled, squirming to the best of his ability, but the weight of Patrick on top of him was too much for him to do anything. Patrick's hands traveled up, ghosting over his crotch before slipping up his shirt. They were cold to the touch and Ponyboy felt like vomiting when he felt them start to massage his skin.
"Stop! Please, just leave me alone…" He could feel the eyes of the gang on him and all he wanted to do was crawl in a hole and just die. He felt ashamed and humiliated now that they were watching him. He shut his eyes tightly but found that it was much worse.
The hands traveled lower to his waistband and that's when Ponyboy switched onto full panic mode. He thrashed, screaming at the top of lungs, but nothing helped.
Patrick started to undo his buttons, and everything started to slow down. Ponyboy reached up above him, wrists still tightly bound together. He groped around, grabbing whatever he could get his hands on. They curled onto something cold and metal. He didn't think about what it was or what he was going to do, he just wanted Patrick to stop. He swung the object into Patrick's head.
The next thing he knew, he heard Patrick screaming, flinging backward off of him. He clutched at his bleeding head, hands instantly turning bloody. Ponyboy, still in a rush, pushed up and tackled Patrick, pinning him to the ground. He brought the object, which he recognized as a wrench, and slammed it down again and again. Blood was flying everywhere, splattering across his already bloodied face. But, even when Patrick fell unconscious, he didn't stop. He only saw red.
"Ponyboy, stop it! He's unconscious!" someone screamed, but it sounded far away. He was about to swing the wrench down again when someone grabbed it, yanking it out of his hands.
Ponyboy instantly snapped out of his haze, breathing heavily. He looked around at the horrified faces of everyone before staring at the bloody wrench in Dally's hands. He looked back down to Patrick, not quite grasping what just happened yet, who was caked in his own blood. But he was still breathing, barely. Ponyboy didn't know what to feel. Part of him was horrified on how much blood was spewing out of Patrick's unconscious body. Another part of him wanted to continue beating him.
Soda ran in front of him, awkwardly caressing his cheeks. Ponyboy flinched at first but calmed down when he remembered that it was Soda. Soda wiped away the blood and tears from his face with his thumbs, cooing reassuring words to comfort him. But all Ponyboy wanted was for him to stop touching him. He didn't want anyone to touch him anymore.
"Are you okay?" Soda asked. Ponyboy shook his head, letting out a sob. Soda separated his elbows apart, and looped it around him, pulling him into a hug. He frowned when he felt Ponyboy flinch and stiffen in his hold. "You're safe now, Pony. No one is going to touch you ever again."
It was supposed to be comforting, but it only made Ponyboy cry even harder. Even though Patrick didn't get far in his intentions, Ponyboy didn't think he would ever be okay. He could still feel his touch like it was still happening to him. Even though Patrick was unconscious and probably going to jail, he knew that he would always be with Ponyboy for the rest of his life.
Two-Bit cleared his throat behind them. "I know that this is supposed to be a comforting moment, but how about we get these ropes off of us and hightail out of here?"
Soda pulled Ponyboy away, looking into his eyes. "You're going to be okay?" he asked.
"Yeah, I'm okay," he lied, whipping his tears on his own shoulder. He put on a shaky smile and everyone knew that he wasn't actually okay. "Let's go. I don't want to be here anymore."
And no one could argue with that…
o-o-o
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