Hey guys! I just wanted to point out that this is a NEW story, separate from Before You Go, which is still a work in progress. I will be working on both, but this one was calling to me so I had to get the idea down on paper. But before you read, some warnings, as this work is a bit different from my previous stories:

This work may contain some themes that some readers may find offensive or painful to read.

Trigger warning: contains suicidal ideations. Please do not read if you feel this will trigger you or cause you undue mental distress

Warning: Has the possibility of containing a major character death

Warning: Will be sad

As always, I appreciate your reviews, follows, thoughts, and opinions. Feel free to p.m. me if you'd like

Chapter 1

Soda

It was hot. Hot and sticky with air so humid and thick that you'd think you had to swim through it instead of walk. No matter which way you looked there was nothing. Nothing but trees and uneven rice fields and dirt roads that led to more trees and rice fields and ruined villages.

"Sodapop Curtis!" One of the guys called out, and I could see him lift his eyes and search for me. When he spotted me, he held the envelope over his head so I could see what exactly he was hollering about.

Getting mail was one of the few things that I could look forward to in the damned hellhole they called Vietnam, and I was anxious to see what it was that my brothers had written me about this time.

The envelope was thicker than normal, worn and crumpled at the edges like it usually was by the time it reached me. The post-mark was weeks old… it was a marvel that the damn thing ever got to me.

Pony had been writing to me just about every week, and I was starting to worry when I hadn't got any letters for more than a couple months, but his looping writing and the thickness of the envelope told me he'd maybe written extra to make up for the weeks I hadn't heard anything. There weren't any real comfortable or private places to sit, but I found myself a piece of ground that wasn't too wet and was just far enough away from the group sitting and smoking on the edge of the tree line that it felt like I had my own little spot, even though I wasn't more than a few feet away.

Inside the envelope was a folded letter and two more envelopes. Figuring the other envelopes were from Darry and maybe Steve or Two-Bit, I started in on the letter from Pony.

The punch to the gut came not even halfway through the letter, and my vision tunneled.

"Jesus. Jesus fucking Christ. Jesus Christ Ponyboy."

Dear Soda,

I'm sorry I haven't written in a while. I had so much to say, but I guess I just couldn't make myself pick up the pen and put it to paper. It seems foolish now, like I wasted so much time when I could have been telling you things. But I guess this one letter will have to do.

I've been staring at this paper for hours wondering how in the world I'm going to tell you this. I couldn't think of the right way to start, and every time I did, things just sounded stupid, so I got a bunch of half-finished letters sitting here that I'm going to have to hide from Darry now. I know you'd understand, even if what I had written sounded dumb, but it seems important that I get this exactly right.

Well, I guess I've been putting off what I got to say long enough. If I don't say it now, I ain't ever going to, and you don't deserve that. Soda, I ain't going to be here when you get back.

Glory, how am I going to say goodbye to you again? And this time knowing that it's forever? It was hard when you got shipped out, but I always hoped I'd see you again. Now that I know I won't, I just don't know how to do it.

I ain't been right in a long time, Soda. First it was Mom and Dad, then Johnny and Dally. I tried. I swear I did. I tried real hard to be okay, but I ain't. I'm lost. I'm lost and I don't think I can find my way back. I've been drowning since that night in the fountain. I was drowning then and I'm still drowning now. I swear it feels like I'm underwater and I can't get back to the surface. You've been a real good brother. You kept my head above water for a long time. But I just can't do it anymore. I'm done. I ain't got any fight left. And it ain't just because you had to leave. I would have been done if you were here too. It was only a matter of time. So, don't think it's your fault or that you could have done or said something if you were here. You couldn't have.

I'm so empty inside. I can't feel anything anymore. It's like I'm a shell or something. Or like I'm walking around in a dream. I don't know. After the fire- after Johnny and Dally- I stopped being able to feel. I kept waiting for the feeling to come back, but now there's nothing. Except maybe fear. I feel that all the time. It's like I'm dead inside, Soda. I want to be normal again, but there ain't no way for me to get there. I gave it time and it ain't getting better. I don't want to do nothing that I used to love. It's like I'm living in a dream or something. I'm just there. Going through the motions. But it ain't really me.

I can't sleep at night. God, I haven't slept in ages. If I ain't having a nightmare, I'm laying there thinking about how it's all my fault. I know other people were hurting after they died too, but no one understands. You all lost your friends, but it was my fault they died. If I hadn't come home late, if I hadn't woken up Johnny, if I hadn't wanted to walk to the park, then none of this would have happened. Maybe you can explain it to Darry for me. He won't understand. He will think it was him, but it was me, Soda. It was always me. It ain't anybody's fault but mine.

I can't do it. It's all I think about. Every day. Day after day after my mind just plays it on a loop. The days turn into nights then day again and I don't even feel like I belong in myself, if that makes sense. I shouldn't be afraid of my own thoughts. I want to run away and start all over but that won't help either. I can't outrun something inside my head. And you know how running away ended up for me the last time anyway.

Don't be mad at Darry, okay? He's been trying real hard and I got real good at pretending to be okay while you've been gone. I know when I should smile and laugh and roll my eyes, so that's what I do, but I don't feel it on the inside. It makes Darry happy, at least but it's like I'm wearing a mask or something. I can't do it anymore. I don't know who I am. I can't live with what's inside my head anymore. I don't know how to explain it, but I have a feeling you'll understand. You've always understood me more than anybody.

I wanted to tell you first. The way I got it figured, this letter will take a few weeks to get to you. And by then I'll have figured out how I'm going to do it and it'll be too late for you to find a phone and call Darry. It didn't seem right not to say goodbye or not to explain things to you, and I don't want them calling you before I had a chance to tell you myself.

I sent some letters for Johnny and Dally too. I want you to come home and read the letters to them, okay? Maybe on their birthdays or something. I know you ain't going to want to go on after this, but you got to. And I figure if I ask you to do something for me then maybe that will keep you fighting. So, promise you'll come home and read my letters to them. You got to promise me. Please.

You know, I think I loved you more than anyone, ever. A guy couldn't have a better brother. Remember that time Steve tried to lock me in Two-Bit's trunk, but you stopped him? And then you didn't talk to your own best friend for a week? That sure was something. And you always used to stand up to Darry for me, back before we started getting along. And you never even complained about having to move into my room and share a bed, even though I was too old for it. I'm really sorry I couldn't be a good brother to you too.

I'm sorry, Soda. I hope you understand. I'm not me anymore. I got a stranger living inside me, and there are monsters in my head at night, and I can't do that anymore. I ain't ever going to be whole again. And that ain't fair to me or anyone else. I hope you don't get mad at me. I know you won't listen to me, but don't feel sad either. I ain't been living for a long time, and this is the only way I know to get free.

I love you Sodapop. And I'll miss you.

Your Brother,

Ponyboy Curtis