Hey guys. New chapter. Did you forget about this story? I did. Hey, it's only almost a year late. Oh, well. Quicker updates will now come. Thank you iamafanoftoomanythingstoname for motivating me again. Also, atyler4474 wrote a chapter sequel to the first chapter of "Snapped". If you're interested, check it out.

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I got put into a wheelchair almost the second I walked (okay, well, limped) into the hospital. There was a wait. A really, really long wait before I could see a doctor. Some people with the flu or something stupid like that were ahead of us.

Sodapop grabbed my hand and squeezed real tight. And while in most times that probably would have hurt me, it sort of took away the pain in the rest of my body.

I could see that Darry was oftentimes staring at me while we sat in the waiting room, but I wouldn't let him catch my eye. I was so mad at him I couldn't even see straight. Or maybe I couldn't see straight because of the bone snapped out of my leg. Either one.

I was just sitting there miserably with my eyes closed and teeth clenched. Happy thoughts. I had to keep thinking happy thoughts to get my mind off what happened.

To be honest, I was more upset that Darry hit me than that I was injured. I thought we were on better terms.

A nurse finally called my name and Sodapop pushed my wheelchair from behind me.

Darry had to pick me up out of my wheelchair so I could be put on the table. Even if I didn't want him touching me, I had to give him props - he was surprisingly gentle. He's always rough without meaning to be.

After a couple of minutes of sitting in uncomfortable silence, I thought I was going to start ripping my hair out. If my foot and leg wouldn't stop hurting soon I didn't know what I'd do.

When the doctor walked in, he sucked in a breath, and I nearly groaned. It was never a good sign to take the doctor by surprise. He was supposed to have seen it all. A broken bone shouldn't be surprising.

"Ooh," he muttered, rolling my blue jeans leg up. "Bad break. Bad, bad break." He didn't seem to be talking to anyone in particular.

"Really?" I managed to gasp. "What do you mean? Is it going to be okay?"

Dr. Bradley looked pained. "I'm sorry, Ponyboy, but we're going to have to amputate."

"WHAT?!" Millions of panicking thoughts seemed to tumble out of my brain in disarray. Oh my God, I'd never walk again. I could never run track again. I'd be a useless cripple.

The doctor cupped my face in his hand. "Hey, relax, Ponyboy. I was joking."

This doctor was casual and even though he almost caused me to have a panic attack I found myself liking him. He lit a cigarette and started smoking.

I looked over at my brothers. Darry seemed pissed off at Dr. Bradley. I heard Sodapop whisper, "Jesus. What does amputate mean? Seemed to freak him out a whole bunch."

I took deep breaths. At least this heart-stopping scare distracted me temporarily from the overwhelming pain. When was it ever going to end?

I started taking deep breaths because the pain was slowly and agonizingly killing me.

"You're going to have to get prepped for surgery."

"Surgery?" I sat up, biting my lip to control how my foot got jarred. "This is a joke too, right? Can't I just get a cast and go?"

"Unfortunately, it is not a joke this time. You broke your ankle, and the splintering is so bad off we have to realign your foot and put metal rods in it."

I buried my palms in my eyes.

I peeked at Sodapop through my fingers. He was staring at the disgusting bone that was jutting out of my ankle. It was disgusting. The most nauseating thing you could ever see. He was a sickly green color.

I didn't even want to look at Darry. I was mad at him. If it weren't for him, I'd be fine.

"How did this even happen in the first place?"

Sodapop's neck turned quicker than I ever thought possible to face Darry. I was afraid he was going to tell the doctor the truth.

Darry choked out, "He…he… I—"

I cut him off before he could give this away. Because if the state found out he hit me again, I'd be taken away for sure. And it killed me to see my brother flounder uselessly like that.

"I was"- I hissed in a wince of pain -"I was with my friends and we were joking around. I-I…we was climbing on a fence and I fell off. My foot twisted on a crack in the sidewalk," I supplied easily.

I learned a long time ago that the more elaborate the details, the more realistic the lie seems. Making up details seems to make the story more real.

Darry seemed weary of my lying abilities, but this weariness was washed away by tangible relief of the fact that the doctor seemed to believe me.

Dr. Bradley smiled softly. "Boys will be boys," he said. "My son broke his arm a few months ago while playing with some friends."

"Are we gonna get this surgery over with? It hurts so bad, I can't even think straight." I can't believe I wanted a surgery. Surgery usually scares me something awful. But anything to get rid of this horrid feeling I was willing to try.

"I'm sorry, Pone," Soda said. He understood me. He tore a ligament in a rodeo once. And even though that ain't as bad as a broken bone, it's still got to hurt a whole lot. "It'll be okay."

Darry patted me on the shoulder and I resisted the urge to scream at him. This was all his fault.

The nurse gave me a gown to change in to…and it was very awkward getting my pants off with a broken ankle. But I did it. Somehow.

The same nurse asked Darry about my social security number and he rattled off some numbers - numbers I'm sure he'd had memorized since my parents died. He also had to sign some forms, but I didn't really pay attention to that. It just didn't seem important to me.

She took my blood pressure and eventually gave me some stuff to make me sleep.

I was afraid I was going to wake up in the middle of my surgery. The nurse told me not to worry about it and patted me on the head. She told me to start counting back from 100.

I didn't really understand why she wanted me to do that, but I did.

Or at least, I tried to.

My head was already starting to get fuzzy.

"100...ninety-nine…ninety-eight…ninety-seven…ninet y-six…ninety-five…ninety-four…" I closed my eyes and supressed a yawn. "Ninety-three…ninety-two…ninety-one…"

I was out.

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