I've returned with an even longer chapter to make up for my absense!

Disclaimer: I own nothing

Carly groaned as she tried to sit up, but finding herself unable to. She wiggled her thin wrists against the rough rope that rubbed her skin raw, staining it an angry scarlet. Her feet were also tied to something, probably the bottom of a bed, but her vision was obscured by the darkness of a blindfold.

She tried not to panic. Her dad was a cop, after all. He'd find her soon, and he'd taught her some tricks in case she were ever kidnapped. No one, not even herself or her dad, thought she'd need them until now.

Step one: get your bearings. Note any and all things you notice about where you're being held captive.

She was lying on some sort of mattress, fairly soft but flat, like it was old and hadn't been used in a long time. From what she could tell, she was tied to the bed frame with a rough and scratchy rope- judging from the amount of wiggle room, hastily. The blindfold that covered her eyes was dark, maybe black or a navy blue, and smelled of dust and the lingering scent of laundry detergent of something that had been washed within the past few weeks but not used.

Step 2: Identify any escape routes.

Well, she couldn't exactly do that with the blindfold, but she could find weak links in her bonds.

They had been tied hastily, giving her plenty of room to move her wrists and ankles. The rope was old, and it probably wouldn't take much to break it if she rubbed it enough...

Step 3: Take note of your kidnapper and his motives. Does he want to hurt you? Are you his hostage?

Gabe didn't want to hurt her, but he would do anything if it meant staying out of jail. Even killing her.

She had to escape now.

Luckily for her, that was Step 4: Formulate a Plan.

Well, Carly rubbed her wrists against the bed post and felt them coming loose. Gabe must have been in quite the state of mind when he tied these, or she probably wouldn't be able to move.

After less than five minutes, the bonds fell away, allowing her to rest her arms for a mere moment, rubbing the stiffness from them. Then, she started on her ankles, but she just yanked them away, ignoring the sharp pain that shot through her feet and up her calves. Those rope burns weren't going away any time soon.

Carly stumbled to her feet and tried to decide the best way to escape.

She was in a small room with an old, rickety bed, a door (probably locked), and a window. The floor was gray cement and stains like oil and grease stained patches of it. A warehouse, most likely the one right between the West side and the East.

Step 5: Put that plan into action.

She tried the window. It was open, sliding up with a squeak that made her clench her eyes shut and pull it open faster, like ripping off a band aid.

Carly didn't waste her time to see if Gabe has heard her, if he was even here. She leaped onto the bed frame with the agility of a cat and exited the window feet first. When she looked down, her heart stopped.

Third floor.

It could've been worse. The warehouse had six or seven floors, but still, three stories was a long way down, and there was nothing to break her fall. Nothing but long, yellowed grass, the sidewalk, and overgrown bushes. The bushes may help, but not by much.

In the end, she just closed her eyes and jumped.

Knowing better than to land on her feet, she allowed her back to take the full fall, praying that the hit wouldn't break it.

It didn't, but the landing did crack a few of her ribs, judging by the sharp pain that stole her breath in a woosh of the night air. But Carly couldn't just sit here; she had a job to do.

Therefore, tumbling to the ground three times in the effort to reach her feet, she started tripping/limping towards the East Side.

She had to find the Curtis'. She had to make things right.

RING! The doorbell buzzed, which was odd because Greasers never knocked or rang the doorbell; they just walked right in.

Soda, perplexed, turned to Darry from where he was resting on the couch with Tiffany, both still battered and bruised, but otherwise healed.

"Were you expecting company?" He asked Darry, who shook his head. He turned to Tiffany, who also shook her head.

Dally opened the door, and the playing cards he'd been using against Steve fluttered to the floor.

"Darry, call 911!" Dally shouted as he threw his arms out, allowing the girl to tumble through the door and into them.

Darry came rushing in while Steve shakily picked up the phone and talked to the 911 operator, his voice trembling like a leaf in the wind. Lifting the girl without a hitch, Darry put her down on the couch just as Ponyboy came bolting into the living room with a first aid kit.

The girl was pretty with long brown hair in perfect, natural curls and a curvy figure; her cheekbones were dotted with freckles like speckles of pale brown paint. Her skin was fairly pale, but not in a sickly way, and she wore a sky blue T-shirt and skinny jeans. Scarlet blood trickled down her forehead; she'd probably been hit with something. And from the bruises on her stomach that were shown when Darry lifted her shirt to examine her injuries, her ribs were cracked, if not broken.

"Damn. She looks almost as bad as Tif did," Soda whispered.

"Got that right," Two Bit muttered, looking like he wanted to get sick.

"The ambulance is on its way," Steve informed them as he hung up the phone. "Who is she?"

Johnny reached into her pocket and pulled out her wallet.

"Johnny, you can't just-" Johnny cut Darry off.

"Ahah! I knew she looked familiar. Her name is Carly Clayton. She goes to our school."

"Yeah!" Ponyboy exclaimed in realization. "She's Cathy's best friend."

"Well, do you guys have a guess as to who did this?" Darry asked as he wiped away the blood on her forehead.

Johnny, Steve, and Two Bit shook their heads, but Ponyboy nodded, slowly.

"Her boyfriend, Gabriel Kirkendoll. He's volatile, gets into a lot of trouble. There are even rumors going around that he's a girlfriend beater. Everyone was really surprised when Carly went out with him."

"And you know this how?" Johnny asked.

"I observe and I listen."

"Stalker."

"Shut up."

"Guys, shut up, she's coming around!" Dally hissed.

Carly mumbled something inaudible before her green eyes opened.

"Shh, the paramedics are on their way," Darry said when Carly's eyes widened in shock and fear.

"You Darry Curtis?" She slurred (the adrenaline having worn off, but the gang didn't know that).

"Yes?" Darry said, the unspoken question in his tone of voice.

"Gabe. Me. GC. Tiffany. Sorry." She slipped back into the sea of unconsciousness.

"What does that mean?" Soda demanded, although he had his suspicions.

Ponyboy spoke up. "She and Gabe were the ones that hurt Tiffany, hence the GC. Gabe and Carly. She must've felt guilty, but when Gabe found out she was going to tell, he tried to find a way to shut her up. Apparently, he didn't succeed."

"Hopefully, he didn't," Darry corrected, ever the pessimistic one, as he stared at her. "She doesn't look good."

"Yeah, but neither did Tiffany or Johnny," Pony pointed out, "and they're sitting right here."

"Yeah, but-"

"Darry, Pony's right. We need to think positive. Carly may have had a part in this, but Gabe's the real culprit. And she's our only link to him at the moment," Soda told him.

Darry nodded, but he didn't take his eyes off of Carly's bruised and bloodied face.

The door opened, and three men in white uniforms rushed inside, not asking a single question or speaking one word as they loaded Carly onto a stretcher.

After they'd carried her out to the ambulance, Soda murmured, "I can't wait to find this bastard."

"I'm with you, buddy," Steve agreed.

Little did they know, they wouldn't see hair, nor hide of Gabriel Kirkendoll for many weeks to come.

Neither would anyone else.

Gabe needed to leave. Right now.

He threw whatever was in arms reach into his suitcase, zipping it up, packed and ready in less than ten seconds. Then, he was rushing towards the door.

Gabe didn't need to be a genius to know that he was in deep, deep shit.

After trapping Carly in the warehouse, he's gone home to eat dinner with his mom and her boyfriend before heading back to his hide out. Where he was keeping his girlfriend, the only one, besides his parents, that cared about him.

What are you doing? He repeatedly asked himself. But he knew why.

Gabe had never been normal. Ever since his Daddy left when he was five and his mom went through a long list of lovers, some nice, some not so much, he'd been different. At age four, he was the friendliest kid you'd ever meet, but at age five, he started to wilt away like a flower in the winter.

Violent outbursts started in first grade. He started bullying people in second grade. He put a guy in the hospital when he was a third grader- Gabe was tiny, yes, but full of rage. He had his first cigarette in fourth grade; he drank his first beer when he was eleven; he started using drugs at age twelve.

The incident with Tiffany... well, everyone should've seen it coming.

He didn't want to do it, just like he didn't want to abduct Carly. But the voices were so loud, telling him and threatening him into doing things he loathed.

'If you don't take them out, they'll only hurt you in the end, just like your father did. Kill them, now, and you'll never get hurt.' Speaking of the voice...

'They all hate you. Judging you. Stupid idiot, run away already before something bad happens!'

Gabe forged on. After months of dealing with the voices and the hallucinations, he'd gotten better at fighting them, but he wasn't perfect and asking for help wasn't his forte.

Anyway, when he arrived at the warehouse, he opened the door that locked Carly inside, only to find the room completely and utterly empty.

Ropes that had once bound Carly to the bed, now lay abandoned on the mattress, which was covered with patches of blood from Carly's head.

"Oh, shit," Gabe muttered, noticing the open window.

Two minutes after his arrival, he was speeding home to fetch a few things, which only took him about thirty seconds. Next, he was leaping into his vehicle and speeding away, not going too anywhere, but not staying where he was.

When Gabe passed the Curtis residence, he glared upon it. He had a plan, a plan that the voices had told him. A genius plan, and it was one of those rare occasions that he was thankful for the voices. It wouldn't last though.

But the plan was formulating in his mind, and he smirked.

Now, all he had to do was buy his time.

So Gabe has schizophrenia; I will tell you that. I do not have schizophrenia, nor do I know anyone with it, so I did some research and hopefully I'm depicting it at least somewhat accurately. Feel free to correct me if I'm wrong about something to do with Gabe's mental illness. Thanks!

Thank you! See you later!