Chapter Twenty-One
Dr. Murphy's Notes
My worst fears have come true; Pony is cutting again. He fell asleep during our session, and as the nurses were carrying him back to his room, one of his jacket sleeves rode up. There was a fresh cut on his arm. I wanted to think it was just an accident, but when his sleeves were rolled up all the way, I knew it wasn't. There were awful looking cuts all over his wrists and arms. Some of them may even be infected. We don't know how he could have cut himself, but we'll have to find out soon to make sure no one else is in danger.
To make matters worse, Pony isn't eating, and as a result he's loosing weight and he's always exhausted. We can't make him eat, and I'm afraid he'll starve to death. We've moved Leonardo out of his room, and turned the room into a makeshift infirmary. Everyone agreed that we shouldn't move him yet. Once he's a bit better, we'll have to move him to Hammacher. I don't want to, but it's obvious that he'll just keep hurting himself if I don't. I'm afraid to call his brothers; the oldest one, Darry, will probably kill himself when he finds out what's wrong with Ponyboy.
Ponyboy looks so helpless, I'm almost afraid he's dead. He hasn't moved in over an hour. Patients keep walking by the room and looking in; I'm sure there are several different rumors going around about him by now, and I'm sure none of them are true. I guess I should call his brothers, but I don't want to give them more bad news.
They didn't deserve this.
At the Curtis House
Darry was the only one home. Soda was out with Steve and Two-Bit. Darry was almost glad he was alone, he'd had a hard day at work and he was thankful for the silence. He'd just sat down in his favorite chair and was starting to read the paper when the phone rang.
"What is it now?" Darry asked as he stood up and walked into the kitchen where the phone was.
He picked up the receiver, "Hello," he said.
"Yes, is this Darrell Curtis?" a voice asked.
"Who is this?" Darry asked.
"This is Dr. Murphy, Ponyboy's psychologist. I hate to be the barer of bad news, but Pony has been cutting again, and he refuses to eat. We're moving him to Hammacher tomorrow."
Darry was shocked. He hadn't seen that coming.
"Hello, is anyone there?" Dr. Murphy asked.
"I…I'm here," Darry said weakly.
"I'm so sorry," Dr. Murphy said.
"I've got to go," Darry said. He slammed the receiver down just in time. The tears started streaming from his eyes.
When Soda came home that night he found Darry on the couch crying and holding Ponyboy's pillow. He knew something was wrong.
"Dar? You ok?" Soda asked.
"Pony," Darry sobbed. "He cut himself again, and he won't eat. They're moving him to Hammacher tomorrow."
Soda sank onto the couch next to Darry. How could this have happened? He was supposed to be getting better, not worse.
"It's my fault," Darry sobbed, "I should have realized something was wrong long before we sent him to the asylum…I…"
"It's not your fault," Soda said. He was close to tears himself.
"What if he never gets out?" Darry asked.
"Don't think about that," Soda said. He was crying by then. "Pony'll get to come home, I know he will."
Darry and Soda sat on the couch and cried all night; taking turns holding Ponyboy's pillow.
Now
They're sending me to Hammacher. I've been pretending to be asleep for the past few hours, but I've been awake, thinking. I won't get a chance to cut myself or do suicide in Hammacher. I'll be even more miserable.
They've turned my room into a makeshift infirmary, which means that there are all kinds of pills. There's also a glass of water, and a half-empty soda can that one of the nurses left behind. Some people would see it as a bunch of junk, but I see it as a chance to end my pain.
After midnight, I decided it was now or never. I took a whole bottle of Aspirin, and a bottle of sleeping pills. I lay back on my pillow and waited to die.
My stomach started to churn. Is this part of dying? I felt vomit inching up my throat, I tried to keep it down, but I couldn't. I threw up until there was nothing left in my stomach, and I was exhausted. It was then that I started dying.
I guess it was more from exhaustion than from the pills, but maybe a bit of both. It started to get dark, and I couldn't see, even though my eyes were open. I tried to yell for a nurse, but all that came from my mouth was a hoarse croak. I had wanted to die before, but I didn't know it would hurt so much then. I wanted to live now. I wanted Darry and Soda. My body started twitching, and then I was cold and still.
When I woke up, I was surrounded by my parents and Aurora. They had wings, and I could see a beautiful city with golden roads in the distance. I realized that mom was talking to me.
"It wasn't your time, Pony. I'm sorry, you have to go back. But you'll be here soon enough, I promise."
The vision faded, and I was in a hospital room. Darry was crying, and so was Soda. When they saw I was awake, they both ran over to me.
"Pony," Darry sobbed. "We were so scared. They said they might not be able to save you."
I looked up into Darry and Soda's tear-stained faces and realized that I wanted to live. For real this time. I couldn't move; my tortured body was too exhausted. I wanted to hold Darry's hand and tell him that I was going to be OK, that I was really going to get better this time.
"I…I saw mom, and dad," I finally managed to say. "In Heaven."
Soda started crying even harder. Had I really been that close to dying? I guess I had been dead for a while, and then I'd come back. What was it that mom had said? 'It wasn't my time' or something. I guess she meant that I should still live.
Darry was stroking my hair and telling me that I should sleep. I was really tired. I closed my eyes and slept.
