Chapter Three

Johnny's POV

I watched them as they walked away, leaving me bloody and battered on the ground, on my leash. I could barely keep me eyes open and my body pleaded me to relax and rest but I couldn't, these guys put the fear in me and I didn't doubt for a second that they could do worse. This is the second day I've been in these woods and they've already broken me beyond repair.

I would always find myself trying to stand on my broken ankles in the middle of the night to seek out somebody who wasn't there. I was always calling out for Ponyboy then I would remember he hated me and he wasn't around so I would fall to the ground, which wasn't that big of a fall because I couldn't stand on my ankles considering they were shattered, and just cry there the whole night. I found myself hallucinating too. I would hear voices and yells and car engines but I would just tell myself I was hearing things because I was in the middle of the woods, far away from civilization. My hearing was muddled anyway, it was probably just some animals and my head was playing tricks on me but I still got my hopes up for them only to be crushed when my torturers came in the morning then again in the afternoon.

Most of the time the torture and agony would be too painful and too humiliating to scream or cry. Like just now they had just gotten done carving words in to my skin, the cuts weren't deep enough to kill or bleed me to death but they would leave scars. They were the most evil and degrading words too. They had carved 'faggot' and 'queer' on my forearms, 'bitch' and 'pussy' on my biceps, and 'hood' on my chest and 'greaser 'on my back between my shoulder blades. They had laughed tauntingly at me through the whole procedure telling me that if I lived those words would be etched into my skin forever. I had shook and quivered under their blade when they had said 'if', meaning they might let me live, they had laughed thinking I was in fear of dying but I was really in fear of living. I didn't want to live anymore, especially after this. I didn't deserve to anyway.

Despite myself I would find myself clutching leaves or leaning against the tree I was chained to, trying desperately to find comfort in the nature. I would like to imagine it was Ponyboy there to comfort me like he used to every night in the church out in Windrixville. How he would hold me for warmth and relaxation. I would let myself dream and think 'what if?' just like he does; but the damp leaves and the rough tree bark were nothing like Pony's soft skin and sweet scent. I would let myself be numb and cold, way past emotional penetration. I found it was better that way, being dark and empty, it didn't hurt as much, but I would always be pulled back out so I could get my daily dose of abuse.

Sometimes I would go completely delirious and think I had been in these woods my whole life, that I belonged here or that I didn't know where I was and I was lost but I would always be set straight by the small voice in the back of my mind. It would repeat this every time I lost my sanity. I knew where I was. I deserved to be in this place. This was a place for boys who displeased their parents and upset their friends. This was Hell. My captors were merely messengers who helped me play out my sentence. The thing I need to do was thank them for giving me a piece of mind and maybe ask for more but every time they came back, I begged them to stop. I was sinful and shallow because I couldn't take the pain that was punishment for all the wrong things I've done.

Murderer, being a lousy son, being queer… The list of my faults went on for miles. I was an ugly monster who only had pain as the highlights in my life because I was scum and that's what scum gets. I would tell myself the same thing every morning at dawn when the strangers arrived: I deserved the burns on my back. I deserved my fingernails ripped off my hands. I deserved my hair being slashed off. I deserved my ankles being broken. I deserved words that described me to be carved into my skin forever. And there was no going back because I was so vile, so hideous there was no hope for me. I would die here alone like I was meant to. I would be executed like I should have been so long ago after killing that boy.

I remembered when I came up with the theory 'stay gold'. I now scoffed and laughed bitterly at that impossible scenario. I remember Ponyboy and the whole gang saying I was the most golden out of everyone. I had blushed at the time but now I know I should've denied it and set them straight. Nothing could ever stay gold; nothing was ever gold in the first place. Life was gray, not gold or green, it was all just a whole bunch of lies. I knew this now and I knew that Ponyboy had it right the first time.

Nothing gold can stay.

Ponyboy's POV

I looked down at my plate of eggs bitterly as I pushed them around with a fork. I couldn't eat them. I was starving, but I couldn't eat them. Every time I would bring food to my lips I would think of Johnny. I would picture him out somewhere cold, alone, and hurt. I would think about how he probably hasn't eaten for days, I would think about how it was my fault. This made me nauseous and I would put the food back down and push the plate away.

I couldn't sleep either. I would always dream about blood, chains and the woods. It was bizarre and terrifying and at first I passed it off as my imagination overrunning but they wouldn't go away and I started to worry. I started avoiding sleep. I would stay awake and read or watch the news but after a while I lost interest in that too, so I would just stare at the window hoping Johnny would come loping up the walkway to the door. But that never happened.

I was sitting at the dining room table now, still plowing my breakfast around in circles on the dish, half awake because my head hurt and I've started a bad habit of insomnia. I looked up at Sodapop who was sitting across from me, searching the news paper for his missing person report he submitted for Johnny. After a while he growled and slammed the paper down on the table. My body started to shake in anguish because I knew what that meant.

Darry was in the living room watching the morning news waiting eagerly for them to report the missing Johnny Cade as requested but when I heard the loud groan and my oldest brother came stomping into the kitchen, read faced and angry, I knew those people hadn't kept their promise. Tears started to fill my eyes because I knew we might never find Johnny and it was my fault.

"It's my fault." I blurted out as tears started to run down my face. My quivering voice sliced through the tense like a steak knife and both of my brother's heads snapped up in unison.

Sodapop got up and walked over to me. He started to rub circles on my back. "What are you talking about Pone?" His voice was gentle and soothing.

I looked up at his blurry face through my tears. "It's my fault Johnny's missing. It's my fault he ran away!" I didn't care about all the things I was about to admit but I had to get this off my chest.

"What do you mean Ponyboy?" Sodapop was confused, I could tell. "Why would you think that?"

I gulped in a breath and summoned all the courage I had. "He told me he loved me. And I'm stupid."

Soda's mouth hung open for a moment as did Darry's. "Whoa, you mean Johnny's…" Soda trailed off unsure of how to put it.

"Gay." I finished for him. "And so am I." They both continued to stare at me. "He told me he loved me and I was too slow and he took the wrong way and ran. He th-thinks… I'm…I'm disgusted with him. Don't hate me you guys, but I love him too…" I burst into tears again and my throat constricted and sobs escaped my lips loudly.

Soda pulled me up and hugged me to his chest. I could feel Darry's big hand rubbing my neck comfortingly. "It's okay Pony." Darry said, I knew he was talking about me being gay. "It's not your fault." I knew he was trying to comfort me about Johnny being missing but I didn't believe him. I knew better.