Darry was alone in the house the next morning. Soda had gone out with Steve and Two-Bit. Darry didn't know where or how long they'd be gone, and he wasn't worried about it. As long as they all got some fresh air, no harm was done. All Darry did was sit at the kitchen table and drink some hot coffee. He didn't know what his first step to finding out the truth was. His instincts simply told him to look around in the bedroom, but he doubted he would find anything worth any value or significance to his little brother's death. It was something though.
After having his fourth cup of coffee, Darry made his way upstairs. He leaned against the doorframe that lead to the bedroom of his little brothers who once shared a room. Darry was ready to move Soda back into his original room and turn this bedroom into a memory of Ponyboy, just like they had done to their parents bedroom. How could Soda enter that bedroom and sleep? Darry hadn't stepped into that room once since they had found Pony on the bedroom floor with a knife in his chest. Such a horrifying sight and Darry could not enter that room. Soda was obviously strong enough to still sleep and Darry was impressed with that. Maybe it comforted him when it only brought fear to Darry.
Slowly Darry took one step into the bedroom. Something shivered down his spine and he felt slightly dizzy. All he could see was Pony's body as it flashed in his head. His pale skin and hair swooping over his eyes, still heavy with grease. The dry blood soaking his black t-shirt. The worst part was how deep the knife was in his chest, how much pressure was put into that stab.
Darry took a step back from the bedroom. The vision was haunting him, it always did. When Darry had checked his pulse, his skin felt so cold, so lifeless, like Darry had not just seen him that morning, but more like years ago and Pony's body was finally found. That day was still a blur. One morning he was talking to his brother, hours later after work he's gone. And not just by a tragic accident, that probably would have been better than knowing deep down Pony wanted to just die.
Taking a deep breath, Darry took the same step into the room. He kept breathing and holding back any dizzyness or feeling to throw up. In a matter of slow, painful minutes, Darry was completely in the room. He viewed the bedroom. Soda hadn't changed the room at all. Anything that was Pony's was still on the floor. Clothes, school papers, his backpack, stories, etc. The knife he had used was tossed. Soda was beyond upset the night they found Pony and ran off to the vacant lot and just threw the knife as far as he could. Soda's clothes were put away, for the first time.
Darry hated to do this, but he shuffled through Pony's belongings. He had noticed for awhile that Pony was dressing in more black clothing, but he was surprised at how much there really was. That was a sign Darry chose to ignore.
Next Darry opened up Pony's backpack. He found nothing interesting or out of the ordinary. There were old papers and books he was reading. The stories on the floor weren't too deep, but they were old too. Pony had slowly lost interest in writing and drawing. His pictures weren't anything new. There was one of a dead horse, though.
Soon Darry was about to give up. Nothing was sticking out. Darry was about to accept the fact that he hadn't been the responsible, protecting brother and should have done something. All he did was sit back and he would kick himself for that for the rest of his life. Pony had cried for help, and no one answered.
Before leaving the room, Darry decided to search the bed. He checked behind the pillows, in the pillowcases, behind the headboard, then he looked under the mattress. Under the mattress he found a brown book. He reached and pulled it out. It didn't look too old. It was a hard cover and was just plain brown with a small flower in the middle. He opened it and on the cover inside it said 'This Journal Belongs To' and on the line was 'P.M. Curtis.' Darry didn't know Pony had a journal.
Darry left the room and went into his bedroom. He shut his door and sat on the bed. Did this journal hold secrets Darry was unaware of? Would this journal hold all the answers? Even if it did, Darry was scared to open it. He was scared to read it. It could break his heart. Maybe it was better not to know.
Now Darry had to make the biggest decision.