Sorry for the wait! I had a really rough two weeks, managing summer college courses and two jobs. It's just been super stressful and I rarely have time to do anything. I'm really sorry. I'm trying my best. I'm just really burning out with how much work is being forced onto me. I also didn't really like this chapter, but *shrugs*.

o-o-o

Everything was a rush. At first, Johnny felt an electrocuting pain spreading across his face. It happened so fast that it took a moment to fully process the fact that he was just punched. His body collapsed on the ground, eyes shutting tightly out of habit. He draped his arms over his head, expecting to be used as a kicking bag. But… nothing happened. It was silent besides the constant droplets of water that fell from a leaking pipe. It was as if the person who punched him had just disappeared.

But Johnny knew better. Nobody would aggressively pull someone aside to just punch them once. Whoever attacked him was still there, waiting for him to reopen his eyes. Johnny almost wanted to just stay in place with his eyes plastered shut until the gang, who were most likely out looking for him, came to rescue him.

He couldn't keep his eyes closed forever though. Who knew how long he would have to wait until the gang arrived? And who knew how long the person's patience was?

After a short while, Johnny gained enough courage to pry open his eyes. Just like what he had thought, the person who slugged him was still there; looming over him. Although all Johnny could see was a dark silhouette, the man's eyes gleamed in the moonlight, sending shivers down the boy's spine. What was most striking though was how dead and blank they were. They were so dead that they didn't look like eyes at all.

Johnny inspected the figure, hoping to find any distinguishable features besides the abyss-like eyes, but he only had a moment to look at him before the man moved. He took a heavy step towards him, reminding Johnny of the danger that he was in.

Get away! He's going to get you!

But Johnny stayed still despite his brain screaming at him to escape. It felt like he was cemented to the ground. His eyes were blown wide, larger than plates, as he watched the man pull something out from behind his back. The object shimmered in the moonlight and Johnny felt dread was over him. It was a blade. If he had any doubts on if the man was going to murder him, he sure knew so now.

His fingers twitched as he tried to reach towards his own blade, but intrusive thoughts halted him in his tracks. He had a blade, but then what? What was he supposed to do with it? Kill him? Johnny's stomach turned at the thought. He didn't want to kill anybody, which was the biggest and the most dangerous difference between the two. The man before him wanted blood. He wanted to kill. Johnny just wanted to run. He was the prey, and the predator almost always wins when it came to hunting.

Go!

A squeak left Johnny's throat as he snapped out of it. He pushed himself backward as fast as he could to get away. His limbs sloppily stumbled around, constantly buckling, but he kept going. His hands dug into the small shards of broken glass that was scattered there, probably cutting his skin judging by the warmth that spread across his palms. The silhouette kept approaching him at the same pace, still managing to keep up. It was clear that crawling away was going to get him nowhere. He had to get back on his feet.

He was going to die if he didn't run away. He had to run.

Johnny tried to push himself up to his feet, but his body felt heavy and it was shaking far too much to even stand.

Run! Run!

The man was now upon him, knife raised above his head. Johnny again shut his eyes tightly, too scared to keep watching. His arms tripped, causing his back to crash against the floor.

He couldn't die now. This wasn't how he was supposed to go. He was too young.

Just as he thought the knife would strike him and end him instantly, nothing happened. Not at first, at least. There was a long pause—long enough for Johnny to open his eyes again out of curiosity. But, as soon as he did, he wished that he hadn't. The tip of the blade was lightly pressed against his chest, slightly spinning like a top. His eyes were frozen on the weapon as it trailed down his chest to the bottom of his shirt with a feather-like touch. The blade lifted his shirt up, causing Johnny to shiver at the breeze before it trailed his skin to his waist. During that entire time, Johnny couldn't breathe. His breath caught in his throat almost like something was blocking him from breathing.

The blade danced across his skin a bit more before the tip dug in and, finally, the breath that Johnny was holding in came out in a loud cry. His skin split apart wherever the knife dragged to as immense heat that he couldn't bear washed over the area. It burned as if a white-hot, metal pole was being pushed into his side. Johnny let out short and quick gasps, as his shaking hands tried to pry the knife away, but it only dug into him deeper. More pain shot through his body, causing his body to involuntarily crash back to the ground like he was being pinned.

The pain was too much. It hurt way more than whenever he was beaten by his parents, which was saying something.

His vision started to darken at the edges, but he didn't know if it was from the pain or from the loss of blood. Johnny felt his body become weaker and weaker as he got closer to slipping into unconsciousness. He struggled to stay conscious.

HELP! SOMEBODY HELP!

But, as much as he prayed for a savior to come to his rescue, he knew that it wasn't going to happen. He had to get away himself… somehow… But, at the moment, there was nothing that he could do as struggling only pushed the knife into him deeper.

After what felt like forever, the man pulled away. At that point, Johnny felt numb like his body's pain receptors were completely shut off. He lost too much blood, Johnny figured, lying like a lifeless doll on the ground. Blood ran down his side, falling into the growing pool that was under him.

How long has he been there? Where was the gang?

Before he had the chance to figure any of that out, his hair was grabbed in a tight grip before his head was slammed against the ground, making him see stars. He gritted his teeth as he was let go for a moment.

Go, now!

At that moment, Johnny snapped out of his weak state, remembering that he was going to die if he stayed. He stumbled to his feet, feeling his side burn again. Johnny whimpered, biting his lip so hard that it bled. He only got a step in before he was grabbed again. More pain washed over him as he was pulled back and slugged, but Johnny held on. He struggled, kicking and throwing his arms around wildly until the man was forced the let him go. Johnny kicked back once, hitting something before he took off. The man didn't chase after him, but Johnny didn't pay much attention to that. He just needed to go; to run. His adrenaline pumped through him, numbing the pain of his jostling wounds. He pumped his arms as he ran with one destination in mind: the Curtis house.

But the night threw off his direction. It was too dark to make out any recognizable landmarks. He weaved through different streets, knowing full well that he was getting further and further away from his destination. He ran around so much that the adrenaline that was running through him started to decrease and the pain started to return threefold. He grasped at his side, slowing to a stop. His eyes skittered around, darkening at the edges again.

He couldn't keep running. It hurt too much. He took another step when he heard an angel speak to him.

"Johnny?! Is that you?" It was Two-Bit. Johnny let out a relieved sigh as he saw a familiar silhouette run up to him. He wished that he could see him clearly though, but the streetlights were mysteriously off that night. Two-Bit reached him, grasping onto his shoulders. "Where'd you go?"

But, before Johnny could answer, his vision blurred as his knees buckled from under him. And, just like that, he was out cold. But, right before he completely blacked out, he heard Two-Bit curse before soothing him; telling him that everything was going to be alright.

The next moments after that were fuzzy. Johnny remembered peeking his eyes open to a bright light and the sound of a door slamming shut.

"Johnny?" he heard Ponyboy squeak, but his voice sounded a hundred miles away.

"What happened to him?" Soda asked, moving out of the way so that Two-Bit could lay Johnny on the couch.

"I don't know," Two-Bit answered. "I found him like this. I think he was jumped."

"There's so much blood…"

"We need the first aid kit." Two-Bit stripped Johnny of his shirt, throwing the drenched cloth to the side. His breath caught in his throat when he saw the design made out of cuts on his waist. The cuts weren't too deep, to his relief, but he still lost a lot of blood. The cuts on his hands, caused by small glass shards, were deeper. There was so much blood and so many bruises that littered his body. "Holy shit…"

"Oh, Johnny…" Soda breathed with the first aid kit in his hand. He placed it on the coffee table and bent down on his knees. At that moment, the door opened again, and the rest of the gang entered the house.

"We couldn't find him," Steve announced before he saw the small crowd around a familiar figure. "You found him?" He rushed over, faltering at the sight of how injured Johnny was. Johnny weakly looked over to the newcomers, but it almost looked like his eyes were closed with how tired he was.

"What happened?" Dally sneered. "Who did this to you?"

Johnny shook his head, gasping for breath. His lungs felt like they were on fire. "I don't know… It was too dark to see. I saw his eyes. Golly, the eyes. I've never seen eyes like them. They were so blank."

Darry inspected the wound on Johnny's waist closer, eyebrows furrowing together. He interrupted the two, and said, "We need to stop the bleeding before we get answers. That should be our priority right now."

Although Dally wanted to find whoever did that to his friend, he knew that Darry was right. He huffed, eyes glaring but still holding concern. Darry started to clean the wounds. The gang could only stay back and watch.

Meanwhile, Ponyboy stood back, shaking. That design on Johnny's waist… It was the same mark that Vincent carved into him a while back.

The area on his torso started to burn and itch. Although it happened quite a while ago, the pain was still fresh in his mind.

"What the hell is cut into him?" Steve cursed at the mark. None of them were aware of how drawn back Ponyboy suddenly became. "What is this?"

"The person did this… but he… I think he let me go. He didn't run after me. I thought I was gonna die," Johnny whimpered.

"How much pain are you in?" Soda asked, watching Darry clean and wrap the wound. He winced at how the hydrogen peroxide made it bubble. Soda was amazed that Johnny kept a relatively straight face throughout the entire experience. If it were him, he probably would have broken down by now. It made him remember how strong Johnny actually was and how much he's gone through to be so nonchalant about this.

"I don't feel much right now… I think the adrenaline is doing something to help with the pain."

The house fell into a long silence as Darry reached into the first aid kit to grab the bandages. What else was the gang supposed to do?

"We need to find out whoever did this to him," Dally growled, tapping one of his index fingers on his crossed arms impatiently.

"We will. We'll get him," Two-Bit declared, clenching his fists.

"I wonder why he just let Johnny go though," Steve pondered.

Ponyboy knew why. He scratched at his arms as he shot his eyes to the door and back. "He's coming to get me," Ponyboy mumbled so quietly that the gang almost didn't catch it.

"What was that?" Soda asked, twisting his head around to his brother; now noticing how scared he was. "Oh, Pony, why are you shaking?"

"It's a sign—the mark is. He's going get me."

'He' meant Vincent; the gang knew that. Ponyboy still had trouble saying his name.

"How could you be sure about that?" Steve asked, raising an eyebrow.

Ponyboy chewed at his lip, now not tearing his eyes from Johnny's wound. He felt nauseous like he was about to throw up at any moment. He never showed them where he was branded. He always kept it wrapped, not letting anyone else change the bandages but him. When he did change the bandages, which he didn't need to do anymore, he made sure not to look. It was just a reminder that Vincent was always there with him and that he would always be just like a beat-up marionette. He lightly touched where the branding was, feeling the bumps of the gauze, like braille, under his clothes with his fingertips. "Because…" he swallowed before reaching under his shirt. He was really doing this.

Closing his eyes, he slowly unwrapped the bandages. They fell to the floor in a tangled heap around him. Ponyboy closed his eyes so that he wouldn't have to see anything anymore. Man, he missed being blind. Although it was scary and difficult to be blind, at least he could stay oblivious. Ignorance was bliss after all.

The carving had completely scabbed over like miniature mountains, blending into his skin; not quite as prominent as it was when it was a fresh cut. But it was clear that the scars on the two boys were practically identical.

"I'm going to kill him," Dally hissed under his breath, stating what everyone else was thinking. What didn't Vincent do? "He's dead."

"Ponyboy, why didn't you show us this before?" Soda asked, reaching over to touch the scar but Ponyboy violently flinched back. He didn't want anybody to touch that particular scar.

"I don't know," Ponyboy admitted, swallowing thickly. "Shame? Disgust? I can't even look at it myself."

"Oh, Pony… It's—"

"It's okay? I know… It's just… I just don't want to be reminded of what I went through. And, now, he's coming to get me. That mark on Johnny is a sign."

"Vincent isn't going to get you," Darry reassured, but Ponyboy wasn't having it. He darted his eyes back to the door. Vincent was definitely going to come get him, he was sure of it.

Ponyboy let out a shuttered breath as he backed away. He didn't was to see Vincent again. No, he can't go through that again! No, no, no! He would rather die.

The gang didn't understand. They didn't know Vincent like he did. They weren't the ones being tortured in the worst ways possible. They didn't know what it was like.

"Pony…" Darry started but Ponyboy whipped around the corner and slammed the door shut to his old room (not the one he shared with Soda). It was the closest and all of the dust in there reassured him that nobody would check the room. Ponyboy locked the door behind him and sat down in a corner, tearing down spiderwebs in the process. He curled up in a ball that he always seemed to be in these days, but he didn't cry. He wanted to, but his fear—his paranoia— pushed him past that point.

Vincent was coming. He was coming. He was coming. He was coming. He was coming.

What was he going to do? He couldn't do anything to protect himself or the gang from that monster.

He looked around the room for some way that would help him, but only learned how easy it was to reach him. Vincent could quite effortlessly enter his house with the door always being open and all. Someone from the gang was always there in the house with him, but, if Dally couldn't win against him, nobody could. They… No, he…. was doomed.

There was a noise from outside the door, followed by the doorknob rattling. Ponyboy's eyes shot to the door, instantly tensing up.

"We'll just talk to him later," he heard Darry whisper. "We need to call the police though. They need to know what happened. How's Johnny doing?"

"He just fell asleep," Soda answered. The two of them walked away from the door and Ponyboy let out a breath.

The door! That would stop people from reaching him.

That's why, Ponyboy decided, the door was going to stay locked. If it stayed locked, he would be safe… or so he thought.

o-o-o

Two more chapters left. The next chapter is technically the finale. Then it's the epilogue. So, shit is about to go down!

IMPORTANT: So, for the new story that will come out after this, I shortened the poll down. So, can everyone vote or revote? There are five choices to pick from now. There was a five-way tie. I had also put more of a description down on each of them so you can know exactly what the story entails and change your vote if you decide another one is better if you had already voted.