It's not your fault. You didn't do anything wrong. You'll get better soon.

I wanted to believe those words, but I already knew the truth. I was to blame. It was my fault. I was being punished for killing Johnny and Dallas. I didn't mean to, but I'm paying for it anyway.

Even with the knowledge that my brothers were here for me, I still didn't speak. The feeding tube hurt like hell and it bothered me. I complained about it to the doctors, and they took out and let me try to eat something. But when I threw the food up, they put the feeding tube in again. So I had to sit in pain all day long. Well, even if the feeding tube wasn't in there, I'd be in pain. I felt pain more strongly than I'd ever felt any emotion before in my life. I wished I could just make it go away, but nothing helped.

I was beyond crying now. I was all cried out. Soda and Darry talked to me, but I didn't talk to them, unless I had to. Sometimes they'd leave while I took a nap, but only for a little while. They'd be back by the time I woke up.

One day, when Darry was out talking to the doctor, Soda said to me, "Pony, why won't you talk to me anymore? You used to tell me everything."

"I don't deserve a brother like you." I responded, and that was all I said.

Soda looked at me, confused. He didn't understand. No one did. Not even me.

When Darry came back, he had a big smile on his face.

"Guess what, Pony? You get to go home!" He said, gleefully.

"Great." I said, and I gave a slight smile. It was the closest I'd been to a smile.

The next day, I was packed and ready to go home. I didn't feel like walking, so Darry got a nurse to bring us a wheel chair. She said I was allowed to keep it until I came back for a checkup, so Darry didn't have to carry me everywhere, not that he couldn't do it.

When I entered the house, I was amazed at how much I had forgotten about it. I didn't remember the rip in the carpet underneath the couch, or that stain on the wall. I never really paid attention to it, because it was my house, and I didn't really care.

When Darry pushed me into my room, I nearly cried. He helped me up from the wheelchair to the bed, and I couldn't help but stare at that beautiful ceiling. I missed that image. I had to look at the boring white of my room at the boys' home for too long. I was home. It was official.

Soda and Darry left me in my room, and I soon fell asleep. It was the best sleep I'd gotten in a long time.

When I woke, Soda was laying next to me. He was over on his side, as far as he could. The nurse had to set up my feeding tube again, so I figured he was trying to avoid hitting it. I wanted to rip the stupid thing out of my nose, but I knew I'd get in trouble if I did.

I fell asleep again, only to awaken from the worst nightmare I'd ever had before.