Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own The Outsiders or Ponyboy. Sigh. The owner is he best author ever, S.E. Hinton. I also do not make a profit from what I write on this site.

A/N: Do you guys have any suggestions? Comments? Criticism? There is only one way to share them. Hit the review button please and send them in.

Ponyboy's POV

I started marking each beating with a scuff in the floor. I had had twelve beatings since I first came here. I heard heavy footsteps down the stairs and I knew it was Bob's monkeys. Sure enough, three Socs and Randy walked down the stairs with switchblades. I hoped they didn't shoot me up, they started sticking needles in me with some mystery drug, but whatever it was I hated it.

By the evil glow in his eye I knew that the worst was yet to come. This beating was going to be worse than all twelve combined.

I was right, within a few blows to my head and chested I passed out. I felt the needle go into my arm and the darkness seemed inviting. Only I didn't see darkness, I saw a bright light. But the pain never left my body.

Randy's POV

I was somewhat sober today, but I was angrier than I had ever been.

Ponyboy suddenly slumped over and was wheezing and gasping until it stopped all together. I froze.

Oh my gosh, I think I just killed a kid. I though panicked.

I quickly untied him and threw him in the trunk in a tarp. I drove far away from Tulsa and early in the morning I dumped him on the side of the road. Nobody would find him and nobody would know I killed him.

Mrs. Anna Peter's POV

My husband, Corey, and I were driving when a lump wrapped in a tarp caught my eye. I told him to stop and I walked out of the vehicle, and, like an idiot. Flipped the tarp up. I screamed when I saw what was under there.

It was a young boy. His clothes were ripped and caked in dried blood while his skin was white as a sheet. His leg was obviously broken and blood was dried around a wound in the back of his head. His ribs poked out even in his baggy shirt. His eyes were closed but wheezing gasps escaped from his chapped pale lips. I quickly picked him up and set him in the car and ordered my

husband frantically to just drive.

Darry's POV

We got a call from the hospital at four a.m. I sleepily mumbled a greeting before the news hit me.

"They found him. But it doesn't look too good. He is critical." I paled.

"What happened." I asked. She paused for a moment.

"Well, I shoulder say this over the phone, but I will for you. He hasn't eaten much since he was kidnapped. He has a broken leg, four busted ribs, a concussion from the first week of hostage, and severe blood loss and dehydration. He seems to have treed marks on his arms." She told me. I shook. Treed marks?

"W-What does t-that m-mean?" I squeaked.

"He was injected with drugs many times. Probably four or five and is still high right now. He is in a coma and may not wake up." I shakily hung up, grabbing Soda and ran out the door into the truck.

A/N: I hope I didn't rush that too much. It sounded good to me and I think it got there so I hope you agree. Night ya'll lovely readers.