Disclaimer- I do not own The Outsiders
Three Years Later
Darrel/ Mr. Curtis's POV
The winds was blowing. I was out camping. It was late the stars we all out. My boys were chasing each other, all three of them. They were laughing and carrying on. Ponyboy squealed as he tried to out run Darry and Soda. "I'm going to get you!" Darry yelled happily holding out his fingers.
"Daddy help!" Pony laughed. He hid behind my leg. I smiled.
"Okay buddy" I hoisted him up and into my arms.
"There now."
Ponyboy gave a contented sigh. "I love you daddy."
"I love you too buddy."
All of a sudden the wind picked up. It seemed to get darker.. And Ponyboy he was gone. My heart began to race. Lighting flashed and I heard a scream. "DADDY!" I ran towards the voice.
"Ponyboy. Pony where are you."
"Daddy!"
I woke up in a cold sweat and immediately sat up. I breathed heavily and closed my eyes. I began to cry. Grown men don't cry. That's bull if I've ever heard it. It seems that I cry daily. And this dream.
Oh lordie. I heard his voice. I heard it so clearly. And I could hold him. My boy, my baby was here in my arms. But he wasn't. I shivered.
Maggie woke up. "Darrel, honey what is it?" I shut my eyes again. If this had been hard on me it was nothing short of overwhelming on Maggie.
"Nothing dear." I lied. "I'm just thirsty is all." I got up and headed for the kitchen but made a be-line for Ponyboy's room. I turned the doorknob and walked inside.
I flipped the light on. My shoulders shook. We had not changed a thing. His bed was still made, toys were where he had left him. His tiny cloths were still in the drawer. His crayons were in the corner with a drawing my son had started. I sighed.
Three years was a long time. I could not say if he was dead or alive. The not knowing somehow seemed worst then if I had known but the thought of my baby dead still left me uneasy. I sighed and walked out of the room and flipped off the light. There are some wounds even time can't heal.
Meanwhile
Charles sat in the closet, quiet as a mouth. He rocked himself shivering. It hurt so bad, everything. He was pretty sure father had sprained his wrist. And he was hungry. Three days was a long punishment.
He was cold too and he wanted his mama. But she was sick again. He hated when she was sick. Father was meaner when she was sick. Because when she was sick she did nothing but wander. It wasn't his fault, Charles knew but he'd agitated father. He tried to be good, he really did but it never really worked.
Sighing Charles cried himself to sleep.