Chapter Thirteen

Now

In my room. Bored out of my mind. I don't know where Leonardo is, so I don't have anyone to talk to. The nurses put this anti-bacterial crap on my wrists. It stings, but not as bad as thinking about Aurora or mom and dad.

It's all Aurora's mom's fault. If she'd been a better parent then Aurora and I wouldn't be here, and I'd still have parents. If her mom wasn't dead; I'd kill her myself. No, I couldn't kill her. Yes, I could. No. Yes. No. Yes.

I think arguing with yourself is a sign that you're crazy.

But then again, so is cutting.

What if I'm not crazy? What if I'm perfectly normal; everyone else is insane, but because they're so used to being crazy normal people are weird? Does that make any sense at all? No.

I need to get my lazy ass out of bed and walk around or something, but I don't want to. I'm too bored. I have books, but I don't want to read them, I'm too depressed. I heard the doctors talking about me. I only heard bits and pieces, but it went something like this:

"…was doing so well…"

"…it's that girl; he's worried about her…"

"…has every reason to be…"

"…but cutting?..."

"Mrs. Moran is partly to blame. Leaving a letter opener out in an asylum; that was just stupid and careless."

"…should be thankful no one else was hurt…"

"…brother was so upset; thought he was going to cry…"

"…looks like it'd take a lot to make him cry…"

"…I know…"

I left after that. It was upsetting me. I kept picturing Darry's face when I got sent here, and for the first few months I was here; when I wouldn't talk. His face was drawn, and he didn't smile. His eyes looked sunken. I was killing him. And now I'm killing him again.

Darry didn't deserve this. He was supposed to go to college; to play football, but now he can't. Why'd mom and dad have to die? Why was I crazy? What was I thinking when I cut myself. I wasn't thinking, I guess. No, I was thinking…about myself. I feel so selfish.

"I'm sorry, Darry," I muttered.

I rolled onto my side, and fell asleep.

Dr. Murphy's Sessions with Ponyboy Curtis

Doctor Murphy: Are you feeling alright, Ponyboy?

Ponyboy Curtis: No.

DM: What's wrong?

PC: I'm depressed again. I heard the doctors talking about me. They said they called Darry, and he was really upset.

DM: About your cutting?

PC: Yeah.

DM: And that bothered you?

PC: Yes.

DM: How did it make you feel?

PC: Selfish.

DM: How so?

PC: Why didn't I think about Darry? I forgot that you have cameras in the rooms. I thought that I'd be able to cut, still leave in a moth, and Darry would never know.

Here there is a long pause

PC: crying I'm sorry.

DM: It's alright, Ponyboy. We forgive you, and your brother still loves you.

PC: I'm killing him.

DM: What?

Here there is a long pause

DM: Ponyboy.

PC: no answer

DM: Ponyboy.

PC: no answer

DM: We're back to square one, Ponyboy. You're not talking to me, but I know something is bothering you. You'll feel better if you talk.

DM: What's bothering you?

PC: I don't know.

Here there is a long pause

PC: I just don't know.

DM: How did cutting make you feel.

PC: Better.

DM: Monosyllabic answers; I can't learn from those. Why did it make you feel better?

PC: I don't know how. It makes the pain go away.

DM: I see.

DM: Cutting will only keep you here longer. You need to decide what you want. Do you want to leave, to go home to your brothers? Or do you want to stay here forever?

Here there is a long pause

PC: I want the pain to go away.

End Tape

Dr. Murphy's Notes

There are times when I don't know what to think of Ponyboy Curtis, and now is one of those times. He is by far, the strangest case I've had in a while. There are times when I think he's doing so well, and then he digresses; it's like all the treatment never happened. I can't help but wonder if he's just going through the motions. He answers all the questions I ask him, but the answers don't help him realize what's wrong. Maybe I'm asking all the wrong questions. I wish I could get inside his head, so I could figure out what's wrong. But that might not even help.

He said that he wants the pain to stop. That bothers me. I know how he feels, maybe I should tell him that. I know how it feels to look fine, but you're hurting so much on the inside. We're starting him on anti-depressants, and I hope beyond all hope that they'll help him.

I've talked to Ponyboy's friend and roommate, Leonardo. He said that he's also noticed a change in Ponyboy since Aurora got here.

"I miss the old Pony," Leonardo said. "He's just not the same, and I don't like that."

His brother took the news of Pony's cutting really hard. I knew he would, but it surprised me somehow. His brother is a big guy. At least six feet tall, huge muscles; he's basically your typical football player. When I told him about Ponyboy though, I thought he was going to start crying.

His friend, Aurora; we pretty much know what's going to happen to her. She refuses to eat and she's so nervous, she hardly sleeps. We gave her that stuffed animal rabbit in hopes that it would comfort her, but it didn't work out very well. I brought in my rabbit, but it didn't comfort her either. We've asked the state for permission to give her a lethal injection. It won't hurt her, and it looks like the best thing for her. I think that the state will approve, but there's still one thing that bothers me.

I don't know how I'm going to tell Ponyboy.