Disclaimer: See previous chapters.
A/N: I want to appologize for the super long wait. I never meant to leave a cliff-hanger for that long, but I had some trouble sorting out the last chapters. There was a lot going on in my personal life and I had a lot to do, but not anymore! The story is all done now, so there will be no more delays. There will be one chapter after this, and then the epilogue. I hope you enjoy it. Thanks for being pateint and for all your help thus far! Warning: Violence in this chapter. If it disturbs you, then don't read.
Babygirl
"Yep, it's an original name, but my dad was an original person..."
Chapter 15: The Guilty
"In the case of Jonathan Levi Cade, we, the people, find the defendant: guilty of manslaughter in self-defense. This court sentences him to two years in prison, and suspends the sentence, based on Mr. Cade's current health issues.
"In the case of Mr. Ponyboy Curtis, this state finds the defendant: innocent without question. Therefore, Ponyboy Curtis is free to go. As for the question of custody: he shall remain in the care of his older brother Darrel Curtis at this time. Court is adjourned."
Some people looked outraged, others relieved that it was all over. I didn't care. All I could see was the boys jumping and hugging and hollering in the court room. They looked like fools, and I had never wanted more in my life to look like a fool than I did right then.
When I returned to Miles' house, we had an afternoon of carefree fun. It was nice for a change. I didn't worry about trials, fights, heart-attacks, or much of anything really. I just played.
I asked Miles what anti-depressants were and he told me that they were pills to help mentally sick , really sad, depressed people feel better. They must have been Milly's.
I was driven home by Mr. Kings. He was a kind, white-haired, old man. Eugene apparently knew him and they talked for a while. Heading to the door I realized something was amiss. I didn't see anything odd, really. Instead, I felt it sinking in the pit of my stomach. It was a cold shudder in the heat of summer. It was a tightening in my chest that I couldn't explain, even if I had wanted to.
As I opened the door, I saw the first sign that something was wrong: plates were out, a vase shattered and left, dripping water off the hard, clean tiles. It was eerie quiet at first, and then that moment of haunted peace was shattered- quite literally.
I heard that wretched screaming coming from the living room, following the clatter. I was about to be sick right there on the kitchen floor. I heard blood wishing past in my ears, until I began-vaguely, distantly- to make out a few words.
John was shouting: "Milly. Milly. Milly!"
It was like he was sick of something and running out of patience, and sanity. I had never, EVER, been afraid in my own home, and it was the most alien feeling I had felt so far. It was also one, I was determined, I was not going to become accustomed to.
Perhaps a bit rash, but I figured: if I was going to do something, I was going to go all out. So after I burst through the door, I ran straight at the first sight of a red-faced, out-of-breath John. I balled my fists up and began hitting him in the chest, inexplicable tears burning my cheeks as I did so. He looked confused, stumbling for a moment, and grabbed my wrists roughly. I felt trapped and panicked. I had only just registered that it had all really happened.
Suddenly, I heard the most surprising sound I'd ever heard. A roar, for there was simply no other word for it, rose up behind me. It was a malicious, and rabid, human growl. I whipped my head around quickly to see, to my utter disbelief, an enraged Milly, eyes bugling like a mad horse, hair tossed and tattered about, lifting a vase above her head. Was she truly going to go this far to defend me?
Then it came at me. The vase crossed the room in seconds, whizzing, and before I even saw her throw it, it had hit the wall beside my head. My face and body were already turned around, facing the neatly painted wall. I was so confused as to how I got there, until I heard the thud of a candle holder centerpiece hitting John in the back and the groan of pain he let out behind me.
Milly had just attack us! What was going on?
Eugene was in the corner with an hugely uncharacteristic, disgusted frown on his face. It was horrible. He moved again towards her, in an attempt to get hold of her and calm her back down, I think. He turned towards me, trying to keep her in his arms as she screamed and jerked like his touch was burning her skin, and said with a startling calm: "Baby, go to your room, please."
I turned and went to my room, eyes wide, heart pounding, body numb. Not able to think of anything else to do, I turned on the radio to drown out other sounds and pulled Treasure Island from off the shelf.
As much as I wanted to, I couldn't focus on the book. Things from the past month kept flooding over me. The pills. Milly's problem. John tired expression. His gentleness with Milly after the first fight. I had assumed it was John, although I had never actually seen him hit her. It was Milly who was sick, wasn't it? Milly was the one starting it. How could someone so crazy look so presentable? It shuddered and got up to shut my door all the way. It used to make me feel better to have it open. It didn't now.
John had thought, had hoped, a child may help Milly feel happier, busier, calmer. It hadn't.
What would he say at the trial? What would I say, if asked? I would say, I decided, what I had been saying all along: I want to go home. In fact, I said it over and over waiting for sleep to come.
When I woke up in the morning, I was still on the South side.
A/N: Well, what did you think? Anything surprising? Sorry for any mistakes I didn't catch. It's kinda hard to focus when you're sick. Next chapter is longer, but that's how I needed this one. Any suggestions or things you'd like to see happen? Please tell me! Thanks for reading!