Deceiver

Chapter Twelve - The defence

Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1966

I can only stare at the clothes is Darry's hand. I hear Soda talking, I guess to me, but I don't register what he's saying. All that swirls in my head is the search for something to say, to tell them, to explain, and the truth is the only thing that really fits in, but I just can't.

I tried so hard to pretend that this crash down to reality hurts. I suddenly realize I can't escape. I remember everything that happened, and everything after, I remember the key, the door, the walk home, and all the time I thought I had succeeded, but truth is, I haven't. This is a dead-end. I chose the wrong path.

I open my mouth to say something, but then I clamp it shut, and Soda grips my arm, or has he held it all the time? I can't really tell. I feel him beside me, and his words finally reach me.

"Is that blood? Pony, are you hurt? Is it yours?"

God. He sounds so scared.

I shift. My thoughts race in pace with my heartbeats. I want to tell them No. It ain't mine. It would just be half of a lie. All of it is not mine.

Darry discovers something, drops the jeans down to the floor, checks the sweater closer, finds the rip on the sleeve. His eyes tell me everything when he looks up, and I try to shrink back, but Soda's arm and the back of the couch stops me.

"Pony, take off your shirt," Darry says, calm and soothing, making me feel like a trapped animal. "Let me see your arm."

Mutely I shake my head. But Soda tugs at my clothes. "Please, Pony."

My eyes drift to my left arm against my will. Why do they want to see it? I shake my head again, more frantic.

"It's either here or at the hospital."

My head snaps up. I see in Darry's eyes that he's serious. It's no doubt he will go along with his threat if I don't do as he says. And I refuse to go anywhere. Apparently I have no choice. So with a sigh I grab the hem of my shirt with both hands, drag it over my head. Angrily I toss it on the floor beneath my feet. I know they won't be satisfied with only seeing it. They will force me to explain too.

Darry is in front of me now, on his knees, holding my arm in his hands, inspecting the damage. I hear him suck in air.

"Soda, can you go get the first aid-kit?" It's obvious it takes all his will power to not ask me any questions.

Soda moves away, and I reach for him, not wanting him to go.

"I'll be back, Pony," he assures me, a trembling smile on his lips when he loosens my grip. "Just a second. Promise."

It's hard to see him go, even if it's just outside the room.

It's a nasty wound. I don't know how deep, it bled good enough, but not good enough to be all over my clothes, and I can see that Darry knows it too. Sometimes I think he's too smart. I will never get away with a lie this time.

Soda comes back. Together they clean it, and Darry keeps talking while I wish he could just shut up.

"We have to call the police," he says. I wince at his words, but he thinks it's because my wound stings. He gives me an apologetic look. "I'm sorry. I know it hurts."

I make another grimace.

"I think you needed stitches, but it's too late now. Can you move your fingers?"

I show him. I have no trouble moving my hand, and he nods. "That's good at least."

"Why do you have to call them?" I mumble.

"The police? We have to," Darry says. "You know that, Pony. I can give you a little time to collect yourself if you want to talk to Soda and I first. But we can't wait too long."

"Don't call them," I plead. "Please, Darry."

"They're out looking for you. They need to know that you're home. And you need to tell them what happened and where Henry can be found."

I flinch. I never told them it was Henry, but I guess it's obvious. It can't really be someone else. I bite my lip, chew on it. Darry bandages up my arm, hands me my shirt again. I drag it over my head, curl up in the couch. Soda drapes his arm around my shoulders, leans his head against mine. I feel safe here, with my brothers around. Maybe they can help me. Maybe they know what to do. They can find a place for me to hide, or-

I close my eyes. I should talk, but it's hard. I keep hear their voices, her shriek. His harsh words after, everything he said to me. It will always be a part of me, something I did, but it was self-defense too. I know that. Deep inside I know that. And this won't go away. It is real, and it is now. I guess I just should talk, to get it over with.

"I want to... I want to tell you first," I whisper to them. "But I ain't sayin' anything to the fuzz, okay? I don't want them to know."

"Okay," Soda says quickly. "You don't have to."

I nod, but Darry frowns a bit at his direction, and I know he disagrees. Fortunately, he doesn't say anything, so I can deal with that later. Maybe he will understand. I look down on my hands, wonder were to start.

"Just tell us when you're ready," Soda says into my ear.

I'm not ready. I don't think I ever will be. But I have to, I have to, I know that...

"It was... she was his girlfriend or somethin'," I begin, low and slowly. I don't need to explain who he is and I'm thankful for that. "He... he didn't know about it. He was pretty mad at her for a while. And then she went out for grocery shopping and she said..."

I stop. Come on. You can do it, I tell myself. It's either here or in a cold room at the police station, just before they lock you away.

I brace myself again. "She told him to... to kill me when she was gone."

I feel Soda tense next to me. I know he probably want to curse or say something, but he doesn't. I'm glad for that. I'm sure of that if they say anything, anything at all, I will clamp up. This takes all I have.

"But. I mean, he didn't. He - he didn't kill me."

Like they don't already know. I wouldn't be here if he had.

"He just talked a lot. I think he tried to scare me or make me angry 'cause he kept threaten me and say bad things about Dad and some things about Mom. It was like when I was little. And then... then..."

xXx

Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1966, yesterday

The door opens. I don't know who I expect to come, because there is no possible way Soda or Darry or anyone in the gang can know where I am, but I still hold my hopes up. So I snap my head at its direction, ready for the rescue.

But it's not them. It's Sarah, coming back. She looks at me and makes a face, places the grocery bag on the floor.

"Goddamnit, Luke," she sighs. "I thought you would be done by now."

He rises, leaves me, walks up to her, rummages the bag. His hand comes back with a pack of cigarettes. He rips it open, places a stick between his lips. "You want him dead so badly?"

He stuffs the pack in his pocket. Seconds later, a match lights up between his hands.

She throws a quick glance at me. "Yeah. He has seen our faces. He will tell the cops about you. About me."

I shake my head, but she only smiles at that. "I'm sorry, Ponyboy. I know you would."

I swallow. "No... I promise I won't."

Henry only laughs at this, flicks with the match so it dies down.

"If Luke just had left Tulsa when he should have, none of this would have happened," Sarah says. She's turned to him again, and he snorts.

"Then you can do it."

"What?"

"You can kill him." He smiles.

"Are you crazy?" Her eyes widen. "I can't do that. I'm not strong enough."

He picks something up from his other pocket. I recognize it. It's the switch blade I brought, and I feel how I pale. Not that one. It's Soda's. I start to shake, and I can't stop. I don't hear anything else they say, and my mouth is so dry now I can't talk. The words I want to say stop in my throat.

Henry picks up the groceries and disappears into the kitchen, Sarah stares at the knife in her hand. Then she looks determined, and she flicks out the blade. I flinch, shamble backwards when she approaches.

"I don't want to do this," she says, and then - it happens so fast I don't have the time to do anything else than put up my arms to try to defend myself, to stop her. I'm a second too late. I feel the pain in my left arm as the blade digs into my skin and I gasp. I want to scream but I can't, and there is a buzz in my ears, it's my blood that rushes fast through my body, and I struggle.

She's stronger than I thought. Not even my adrenaline can make me able to push her away. I fall down on my back and I hold her arm with both my hands, while I try to think what Soda has taught me, what Two-Bit has said and Dally - I should know how to fight, how to get out of a situation like this, but my mind is blank and all I can see is her eyes, and they don't hate me.

She doesn't hate me, so why is she doing this? She must be crazy.

My fingers dig into her hand, trying to make her let go of the knife. It's close to my face, to my throat, and somehow I manage to bend her arm away from me, making the blade point upwards. I can feel how she almost loses her grip. And then she does - I suddenly have the knife in my hand, the familiar feeling of the handle in my palm.

I don't know what happens next, it happens so fast, it happens in slow motion. She struggles to get up, trying to get away, because our roles are reversed now, but she slips somehow, she falls, she lands heavy on me, and she makes a noise and jumps up. Sitting on the mattress, she places a hand at the side of her neck.

"Oh my God!" she says. "Oh God oh God oh God!"

Red pours between her fingers. Much red. I sit up too, stare at the blade in my hand, stare at her.

There's so much blood. It won't stop.

Her eyes meet mine, and they are afraid. "What's happening?" she says. "What did you do?"

I stutter. "I - I didn't..."

She shrieks.

xXx

Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1966

"It's okay, Pone," Soda says, but his voice sounds different.

"It's not," I say. "It's not okay!" I hide my face in my arms and wait for the tears, but they won't come. I can't cry. I feel so empty."I didn't mean to do it," I say. "I didn't mean to do it! I didn't mean to-"

"Ponyboy, you listen to me! You didn't! Okay? You didn't do it."

"I did. I did it! He told me. It was my fault!"

Soda tries to uncurl me, but I refuse to let my hold around myself go, and he keeps it too gentle, so he's unable to move me. I don't want to meet their eyes. I'm a murderer. I killed her. This nightmare they can't wake me up from.

"It wasn't your fault, Ponyboy," Darry says hoarsely. "She tried to kill you. It was self-defense. An accident!"

"I'm scared," I admit into my arms. "You can't tell the fuzz about this."

My brother sighs, and he sounds so fragile and old at the same time, even though I know he's strong and young. It's me who change him.

"They need to hear your version."

That makes me look up. I glare at them both, at their worried faces, because they say the wrong things.

"No! You can't tell them! He - he told me..."

"He told you what, Ponyboy?"

I clamp my mouth. I have already said too much.

Soda is still close, and now he leans in even closer. "C'mon, Pony," he says. He wipes away my hair from my face. "You have nothin' to worry about, okay? You didn't do anything... I mean, you are a kid."

That doesn't mean anything, and he knows it too. They put Dally away when he was ten, and I am three years older than that. I know they will put me in jail.

"I don't want them to take me away!"

Something flashes in Soda's eyes. It disappears, but I managed to see it. "What? They gonna take me?" I almost panic.

"No," he says firmly. "They won't. I won't let them."

I just have a feeling that he doesn't talk about the cops this time. I do, but he talks about something else. My eyes widen.

"The state?"

God. I never even thought about that. I can't handle this, not now.

"No, Pony," Darry says, sounding more sure than Soda. He grips my upper arms, forces me to look at him. "They won't take you. I will talk to Mrs. Garcia, okay?"

"Okay." Taking a deep breath, I sniff, trying to calm down, but still not really believing him. "Okay. But not the fuzz."

He looks at me for a long moment, seeming to debate with himself. Then he says, "Okay. I will tell them that you're home, but I won't tell them what you told us yet. Is that fine with you? But you know you have to tell them eventually."

I guess I have no choice. So I nod.

xXx

Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1966, yesterday

"Help me!" she says, reaching out a hand. But I don't. I can't. I use my legs to get further away from her, but I hit the wall just after a few feet. I still hold the switch blade in my hand. I tremble. My heart beats fast.

Henry comes running, swears as he sees the blood, and he yanks off his shirt, presses it against Sarah's neck.

"What the fuck happened?"

"Oh God," Sarah whines. "I'm gonna die!"

"No, you won't," Henry says, but he doesn't sound too sure. The red paints her clothes. The mattress. It's on me too.

"Come here, boy," Henry shouts, and I jerk."You fuckin' caused this, help out here."

I drop the knife, crawl hesitantly on my hands and knees to them. My arm hurts. Sarah is pale. Her breathing comes out ragged.

"Ca- call the ambulance," she says.

"Press this against the wound," Henry says to me, ignoring her. I take over holding the shirt, with tears in my eyes. Her blood seeps through the fabric, runs down my arm, mix itself with my own.

"Fuck!" Henry swears. "Fuck this shit!" He stares at his hands. Then he suddenly gets up on his feet, disappears into the bathroom. I hear the sound of running water.

"I-it won't stop," I stutter. What am I supposed to do? I glance at the bathroom door. The sound has silenced behind it, but it's still closed and locked.

"What's happening?" Sarah's voice is weaker. "I wanna lie down. Can I please lie down?"

She does. My grip on the shirt loosens, and I drop it. I don't think it matters anyway. She puts her hand back up again, looks up at me.

"I'm cold," she whispers. "Can you please - um- " her bloody hand reaches out, grabs my sweater in the front. "Please?"

She make noises. She coughs. And I sit there, when her hand falls down, when she squirms, when she suddenly gasps for air.

I close my eyes. Hard. Harder. My jeans are sticky, wet. I know it's her blood. It's everywhere.

When I open my eyes again, she's dead.

This wasn't very easy to write... :S

Hope you like it and doesn't find it "too much". Your reviews are lovely! Thank you!