***Ponyboy's POV***
I woke up unable to breathe. I tried sucking in a breath but it wasn't working. I felt like I was being suffocated from the inside. Inside of me. I tried to push past whatever was keeping me down but it wasn't working. I felt like I was trapped. Maybe I was trapped. Maybe I was still in the basement. Maybe I just had a dream. I was still chained to the basement wall.
"Pony, Pony, it's okay," I heard Sodapop say to me. No, that can't be right. Sodapop? No, he was with mom and dad, while I was with...them. My mind was playing a cruel joke on me. My eyes were open. I saw the basement. I didn't see my brother. After a long time debating with myself and feeling the pain intensify in my chest, he finally came into focus. He was staring at me with worried eyes. It was Sodapop. My brother. I was home. I wasn't hurt anymore. I relaxed against his arms and took a deep breath. I was safe. I could breathe because I was safe.
"Morning, Soda," I mumbled, my head on his shoulder. We were both sitting up but he was holding me.
"Mornin', honey. Do you have nightmares often?" he asked and I nodded. Every time I slept I had a nightmare. For the first few years it was of Sodapop or Darry joining me or my parents ending up dead and other things like that. I pushed them out of my mind as I got older. Thinking of them brought me pain and pain brought me weakness and weakness brought me more pain. "Wanna talk about it?"
"About what?"
"Your nightmare."
I could only shrug. "Just the normal."
"What would be normal?"
I shrugged again. "The tickling. Stuff like that," I said. I had no reason to lie to Sodapop. I trusted him. I would tell him anything if he wanted to know. I couldn't lie to him. Being with Sodapop meant everything was okay. Everything had to be okay. He was my solace.
"What doya wanna do today?" he asked, looking away from me for a moment with pained eyes. Extremely pained eyes. I wondered if I caused him that pain.
"What day is it?"
"Sunday."
"When do you go to school?"
"Tomorrow," he said and made a face. I smiled at that. Sodapop always was able to make me smile, even if I was too busy over thinking. I couldn't exactly over think as a four year old, though, but that doesn't matter.
"I wanna go, too."
"We'll talk to mom and dad about that today. But you never answered my question. What doya wanna do?"
"Learn," I admitted. "I wanna know how things are here. I remember greasers and Socs. I know that fights happen a lot. What else is there?"
"Nothin', really, if you want the truth. We hang around, get in fights, steal-"
"You guys steal?"
"Not so much me. It's mainly Two-Bit and Dally. Johnny, me, and Darry don't. Steve rarely does. It's a greaser thing. We just have consciences."
"What else?" I questioned. My new life sounded interesting and I was somewhat excited to take part of it.
"I don't know. Nothin'."
"Can we hang around town today?"
"Of course," he grinned.
"Can I shower?" I asked. I didn't get much showers growing up but in the hospital I had a lot. I liked them. A lot.
"Sure. C'mon, I'll get you some clothes," he said and helped me out of bed. He took me to his room and gave me some clothes that I knew immediately would not fit me. I thanked him and locked myself in the bathroom. I looked at myself in the mirror and frowned. I looked better than when I first went into the hospital but I still looked sick. I hated looking sick. I hated seeing my ribs. But at the same time I didn't know that was a bad thing. It was life. I discovered it was a bad thing when I was first brought into the hospital.
I traced my fingers over the many, many scars I had on my body. I had scars on my wrists from the chains and ropes when they dug into my skin. There were scars on my hips but I couldn't remember how I got them. I had them since I was maybe six. Along my chest, stomach, and shoulders I had scars from cuts and burns that were inflicted upon me from my kidnappers. My back had some nasty scars, too. Some areas of my skin were an odd yellow color from the bruises that were still healing. My legs were too skinny. I felt feminine with my legs but I knew I couldn't help that. My hair was rather long. Longer than any of the boys had theirs. I wanted to cut it. So that's what I did.
I dug around for some scissors. I looked at myself in the mirror and grabbed a handful of my hair. I marked an area to cut my hair to, which was around my shoulders. Not quite that long, though. I snipped away at my hair, watching it fall to the floor. I ran a comb through my hair and stared at myself a while longer. I fixed up a few areas until I was satisfied. Then I stripped and got into the shower, welcoming the hot water against my flesh.
I got out when the hot water started getting cold. I wrapped a towel around my waist and got out, laughing slightly when I saw the fog against the mirror. I swept up my hair and threw it away before pulling on my underwear and jeans. I frowned when I pulled them on. They were big on me. Really big. I sighed and just ignored it. At least I had clothes to wear. I dried my hair off before grabbing the hair grease. Just like when we were kids, I thought. I greased my hair back and studied myself in the mirror (after I wiped it down with the towel). I looked a little more normal so I slid my shirt on and decided I was content with it. I took my clothes into my room and put them in a basket. I made my bed and put my sunglasses on. The light from the bathroom had really irritated my eyes.
I went into the kitchen and saw Sodapop and mom sitting there. Mom looked up when she saw me and stared at me in shock before smiling. "Gave yourself a haircut?" she asked, coming over to hug me.
"Is that a bad thing?"
"Of course not, honey, no," she said. Then she laughed. "Oh, the hair grease. You used to make a mess outta this." She looked me up and down. "Hmm. Wanna let me sew those pants up so they fit you better?"
"You can do that?"
"Course I can. Sit down and eat. I'll fix them up when you're done."
"Okay," I agreed and sat at the table. Sodapop was grinning at me.
"You look like a greaser," he pointed out.
"Isn't that what we are?"
He chuckled. "Yeah, that is. You're lookin' good, kid."
"Woah, look at you," somebody said from behind me. I turned and saw Steve leaning against the door. "You look better with your hair cut, kid."
"Thanks," I said quietly. I took a bite of eggs and made a face.
"Problem with the eggs?" Soda asked, raising his eyebrow.
"I'm used to hard eggs," I said but took another bite anyways. They were soft but still tasted alright. I felt the nervous feeling creep up my stomach and into my chest. Something bad was gonna happen. I could feel it, and it scared me. "Soda?"
"Yeah?"
"Do you...feel like something bad is gonna happen?" I asked, biting on my fingernails.
He smiled at me but I could tell it was a forced smile. "No. Do you still?"
"Yeah."
"Don't think too much on it," he said, reaching over to mess up my hair. I frowned and fixed what he messed up, making him laugh. "Been a greaser for all of ten minutes and you're already all over your hair. Hey, Stevie, we're goin' around town today. Wanta come?"
"Got nothin' else to do."
"Gather up the guys. We'll go after mom fixes his clothes," Soda grinned, running to his room. Probably to get changed.
"How ya doin', kid?" Steve asked, coming over to where I was sitting. He stood next to me but leaned against the table.
"I'm doing okay."
"We...I...Well, I missed ya," he said, putting his hand on my shoulder before turning and walking away. I made a mental note that he wasn't big on affection. It made him uncomfortable.
"I missed you, too," I whispered, though I know he didn't hear me. I finished my eggs before going to find my mom. She had to fix my pants.
