Chapter Twenty
Now
I'm so tired. I've been lying on my bed trying to sleep for the past hour, but I just can't sleep. I don't know why. I'm exhausted. Living is exhausting. I could cut; I don't care what happens to me anymore. Cutting is looking so good. I want the pain to stop. Cutting; it's like Novocain for the soul. I felt for the piece of metal in my pocket; it was still there. I dragged myself out of bed and started walking toward the bathroom. I wouldn't get caught this time.
I went into a shower stall. There was a smaller chance of my getting caught there; the blood would run down the drain. I dug the metal into my wrist. It was sharp; sharper than the letter opener had been. I cut my arms as deep as I could, I thought about how good it would feel to cut to the bone. I wanted my arms to be one bloody mess. I wanted to bleed to death. Cutting felt so good, I leaned my head against the shower wall, still digging the piece of metal into my arm. I tried as hard as I could not to moan, it just felt so good to cut.
For once I was content, I wasn't thinking about suicide. I didn't care that I would be in the asylum for a long time, I didn't care that I was killing Darry. I didn't care about anything. The only two things in the world were me and the piece of metal I was cutting myself with. And the pain, the bittersweet pain of cutting.
I looked down at my arms. They were covered with blood. Just like I'd wanted them to be. I got out of the shower and rinsed the blood off my arms; there were deep cuts all over them. Most of them were still bleeding. They wouldn't stop bleeding for a while. I pulled my jacket sleeves down as far as they would go, and put the piece of metal in my pocket.
Leonardo wasn't in the room. I flopped down on my bed, my arms and wrists stinging. I was glad that my jacket was leather, because the blood would have soaked through by now. I realized that I hadn't rinsed the blood out of the shower, but I didn't feel like going back and cleaning up. I was too tired. I was so damn tired all of a sudden. My eyes fell shut and I drifted into a deep sleep.
It was almost dinnertime when I woke up. My arms were covered in dried blood, and to my horror, so were my hands. The blood must have dripped down on them. I put my hands in my pockets and quickly headed toward the bathroom.
I scrubbed the blood off my hands and looked at my arms. They looked like two giant scabs, and soon they would turn into scars. I wouldn't be able to cut until the cuts turned into scars. That could take weeks. I didn't know if I'd be able to last that long without cutting. I'd have to see.
Dr. Murphy's Sessions with Ponyboy Curtis
DM: You look tired, Pony.
PC: I am.
DM: Can't you sleep?
PC: All I do is sleep. I don't know why I'm so tired.
DM: The cafeteria workers tell me you haven't been eating.
PC: I'm not hungry.
DM: Never?
PC: No.
DM: That could be why you're so tired. You're malnourished from not eating.
PC: I already told you, I'm never hungry anymore.
DM: OK, Ok. I understand.
Here there is a long pause
DM: Pony?
PC: No response
DM: Pony, are you awake?
Here there is a long pause
Pony fell asleep, and was taken back to his room
End tape
