Deceiver
Chapter 13 - The anger
Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1966, yesterday
It doesn't goes away.
Every time I open my eyes, I try to trick myself what I'm about to see, but the scene in front of me never changes. I close them again. Open them. Everything is still like it was.
The room is too small, making it hard to breathe. Or maybe it's just me.
I want to run away from here, I want to leave so badly, and I want to stay here and hide, so no one will ever know about this. I want to turn back the time or freeze it. Turn it back and make things different. Freeze it and never face the world again.
Henry is still in the bathroom. I glance nervously at the door, wondering what he will do when he discovers I failed to save her. He told me to save her, and I didn't.
He's going to kill me.
"Come on," I whisper. "Rise! Walk." I dig my fingers into my legs, trying to will them to obey me. They don't.
I start to shake. I can't stop.
xXx
Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1966
Darry's on the phone. His voice travels through the thin walls in our house, reaches me where I lie on the bed in Soda's room, trying to rest. I don't hear any words though, just a soft murmur. It scares me and soothes me at the same time.
I finger the bandage on my arm. It feels unreal now, again, but I'm not sure I like it this time. It was one thing when it was just me, when I was alone in it. But now my brothers know. I don't want to be crazy.
I keep my eyes shut. I know Soda's in the room too, keeping his watch over me. I want him here, but I know he would be here even if I had told him not to. It's not my decision.
I am exhausted. After I told them about Sarah, the unanswered questions hung in the room, the tension so thick I'm sure we could have touched it if we wanted to. So when Darry told me to go get some rest, I didn't complain, even if I kind of knew he just didn't want me there when he made his calls.
But I know they will ask about Henry eventually.
Soda is unable to sit still. I feel the shift in the mattress when he sits himself down, when he rises again to pace the room. I stop tugging at my bandage, tuck my hands under my cheek before tossing around to lie on my back instead. Then I sit up.
"What was that?"
"What?" Soda throws himself down next to me, worry in his eyes.
"I heard somethin'."
We both sit quietly, but no sound can be heard, not even Darry's voice anymore.
"I hate this," I exclaim.
"Hey, kiddo," Soda says when I look away. "It'll be all right."
"He told them," I mumble, fidget with my hands. "I know he did."
"He said he wouldn't."
"He was on the phone for an hour! That means he didn't just tell them I'm home."
"He didn't tell them."
"How can you know?"
There is a soft knock on the door, and we both jump a mile. Darry sticks in his head first, before he opens up completely and walks inside. He sits down on the bed too. He looks as tired as I feel.
"I've made some calls," he says. "Mrs. Garcia wanted to come here today to see you, but I managed to convince her not to. But she will be here tomorrow. There's nothing we can do about it."
I swallow. "Okay," I answer quietly, trying to ignore the grimace in Soda's face. I want to trust Darry's calm rather than Soda's distress about this.
"Pony, I know this ain't easy for you, but you have to tell us what happened after this... with Sarah. I talked to the police-"
I pale, and he lies a hand on my knee.
"It's... well, when I told them you're home, they asked me if I was sure you just hadn't run away and then changed your mind."
"What?" My eyes widen, and I look between him and Soda. Something flutters in my stomach. Maybe we can tell them I did that, and then no one will know what happened. Then I don't have to go to prison. I can't go there. I really can't!
But if I tell them that I did run away, Mrs. Garcia will put me in a boy's home. No matter what I do, it will be the wrong choice. But boy's home is better than prison.
"But what about Henry?" Soda urges. "They won't look for him?"
"Calm down," Darry says, lifting his hands in a soothing gesture. "Of course they will. We're going in there first thing tomorrow." He must see my facial expression because he gives my knee an assuring pressure. "Pony, it will be okay. I know you don't wanna talk about this yet, but I think it would be good if you did when it's just me and Soda here. Okay?"
Hesitating a bit, I say, "Okay."
"Just a few questions, all right?"
I nod. I can do it.
"Where is Sarah?"
She's in the bathtub. Pale. Bloody. Eyes stare-
"Ponyboy! It's important."
"In- she was in the apartment," I mumble, feeling shivers through my body.
"And where is the apartment?" Darry's voice is strained. "Pony! Listen to me. When they find her- and they will, sooner or later- it's better they already know the truth. I'm sorry, but this isn't something you just can pretend didn't happen. If we don't tell your story, it will only be worse for you in the end."
I wince. But I know he's right. I just wish I wasn't so scared.
I rub my forehead, trying to think, but the way to the place is all blurry. "I really don't remember."
"Okay. It's okay. What about the blade?"
"Um..." I frown, try to think harder. Where did it go? Did I see it when I woke up? I can't recall it. "I don't know."
"Then what about Henry?" He sounds a bit wary. He's not sure what I will answer, because I have hardly even mentioned him since I got home. Maybe they think I killed him too. "Where is he now?"
"I don't know," I confess. "He - he left. That's why I got away."
They both look taken aback. This was nothing they had expected. I didn't expect it either, but it's the truth.
"He - he just walked out."
"He left you?"
"Yeah. He wasn't there when I woke up."
I start biting my nails.
xXx
Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1966, yesterday
The bathroom door is closed for half an hour. I don't know why I don't even try to run, why I don't even jerk back when Henry approaches, sits down beside me, lights a cigarette.
"You killed her," he says. "You fuckin' killed her, boy."
I want to say that I didn't, but I'm not sure. Maybe I did. I guess I did. She's dead, and I was the one holding the knife.
"Look at her," he says to me. I wonder why he doesn't seems sad. His eyes aren't even red. Shouldn't he cry? "This is hatred. You see?" He points at her with the cigarette.
I don't understand. Does he mean that he hated her? Or that I hated her? Was that why this happened?
"At least she shuts up now," Henry says, lifts Sarah's hand, drops it. It falls to the floor with a thud. I close my eyes. He notices.
"I goddamn told you to look!"
She doesn't look like she's sleeping.
"I guess we're even." He takes a drag, blows out smoke. "It's you and me, boy. We're just the same."
I want to tell him I'm nothing like him, but I can't. This is different. It has to be different. He made his brother kill my parents by purpose, but I didn't meant to kill her. She was the one attacking me. She was the one with the switch blade. She -
Or was it me? The blade - I brought it here. I took it from the drawer, pocketed it, wanted to use it if necessary. I had it with me for a reason. I remember when I took it, how angry I was, how I was ready to do anything to protect myself.
And now I have done it. And someone is dead because of me.
"Feels good, hm?" He nudges my arm with his elbow, and his voice is cold when he continues. "To kill someone you really hate."
xXx
Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1966
Our front door slams, interrupting us. Darry and Soda are up on their feet in a second, disappearing out into the hallway.
"You found the kid?" I hear Two-Bit's voice, hurried and more serious than I have ever heard it before, and I sneak up behind Soda's back, watch his solemn face. It cracks up into a grin when he sees me, and he puts up a hand over his heart. "Jesus, kiddo, you sure scared us! Johnny here came all pale, babblin' about-"
I tune him out while I smile back at him, don't want to hear his words, manage to make my smile even wider when I meet Johnny's eyes. I make a little wave with my hand. He looks so relieved. Knowing Johnny, I know he blames himself for what happened. He really tried to make me not go with her, but it wasn't his fault that I did. I have to tell him that.
We all end up sitting around the coffee table, but we don't tell them much about what happened to me, and even if I know they want to ask, they don't. I think they know it's a sensitive subject. I will tell them eventually. Just not right now.
Some hours later Steve shows up in his DX-cap, and even later, Dally. It feels like forever since we had all the gang together, and it feels good to not think about yesterday. It's still in my mind, all the time, but I manage to push it away. I know Darry is a bit uncomfortable with the situation, I think he would rather see that we were alone, talking about everything, to be sure I'm all right. But he doesn't want to tell our friends to leave. I'm grateful for that. I think I need them here.
xXx
Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1966, yesterday
"I ain't like you," I finally manage to say, mostly to convince myself that I'm not. He's wrong. Sometimes things happen you don't have control over, and I didn't have control over this, but he - he had. He had years to think it over, years to stop himself, but he didn't. "I didn't mean to do it."
"It doesn't really matter," Henry snaps. "You really think that matters?"
I don't answer. Of course it does. It must.
"So why did you do it boy?"
"I-"
I'm forced back into my memories again. She somehow lost her balance, she fell on the knife. It wasn't hate, it was an accident.
But I held the switch blade in my hand. I took it from her and I didn't throw it away. I held it up, to protect myself... and maybe I wanted it. Oh God. What if I wanted it to happen? That would make Henry right.
"You wanted to live." He says it as a statement. "It's all it is about. Life. To survive, right?"
It was her or me. I hate to look at her, but it could have been me lying there. I could've been dead by now. It feels like I don't know what's right or wrong anymore.
I feel so hollow.
"It's just about survival," Henry continues his ramble. He sounds like I feel. "Everything fuckin' is. You grow up in a pissy neighborhood and all you can do is struggle. Every fuckin' day is a struggle. You have folks that hate you and no money. People don't believe in you, no matter what, 'cause you're born on the wrong side of the tracks. You got no chances. The only thing you got is your family, and I ain't talkin' about blood. I'm talkin' about friends - you need to stick together. You ain't anything without them. And if you don't look out, you'll lose them. In a fuckin' heartbeat."
I press my lips together to keep from shouting at him. It's not like that. My parents didn't hate us and people do believe in me. I will have chances, we all do. Life is more than what he's saying. There are great things on the east side too. And maybe we all have money issues and maybe Dally has nothing and feels nothing, and Steve has a jerk for a father and Two-Bit's just left without a word, and Johnny's parents are like monsters to him, and Darry had to quit his life to take care of Soda and me, and maybe Soda felt he had to drop out of school but -
We have each other. And I know no one will leave me. I don't have to look out for it, I know they won't. Not without a good purpose.
"And when you think life ain't gettin' any shittier, then you best fuckin' friend abandons you and you're send to fuckin' prison and-"
Suddenly I get angry. I can't keep it in. He's talking about my dad, I know he is, and I turn to him, shouting.
"He didn't! He didn't abandoned you! It wouldn't have helped if he had come with you, then you both would have been sent to prison! What kind of a friend does what you did back then, huh? You wanted him to suffer like you, because of what you did!" My breathing comes out fast. "He wasn't a coward! You were, you still are! You killed him and my mom, but it wasn't even you! It was your brother! And it didn't get any better afterwards, did it? Did it?"
"Shut up!" He slaps me, but it's not that hard. I'm too angry to really notice anyway.
"It didn't change anything! He's dead and you still suffer, you still went through all that - all that stuff that happened to you. It won't go away. Like this!" I gesture at Sarah. "It won't go away. She - she's dead and - and I will have to live with what I did, and I didn't even meant to do it. You forced me to it and I hate you! I hate you for what you did to me and my parents and my brothers and I hope you'll die too!"
He's over me. He pins me down into the mattress, into her blood, and he spits out his cigarette. It bounces against my cheek before rolling down on the floor. He sits on me, making it hard to inhale. I think it's madness in his eyes, but there is something else too.
"You think death is the worst that can happen?" he growls. Then he leans down, breathes on my skin, his face only inches away from mine. "You'll go to prison, boy. When they find her, they will send you away, you got that, right? You'll get years, like me. What do you think will happen to you there? "
I start sobbing. I can't help it.
"Maybe I should show you. I can show you why I did what I did to your precious parents, why it feels good to kill the ones you hate. You think you understand but you know nothin'. What do you say, Ponyboy? Wanna play prison with me? I think it would be just fair."
I choke on my words, try to get away. "N-no. P-please."
His hands hold my wrists tighter. It hurts.
"Get off me!"
"You scared? Want someone to come and save you?" His face is so serious. "I'll tell you. No one will ever save you, you got that? You will be all by yourself. Always. Fuckin' remember that. You will have no one!"
Why is he saying this to me?
"It ain't true," I whisper.
"You are alone!"
"I'm not!"
"It's just what you think, boy. Who do you think will save you, then? Your brothers will not be around. They aren't now, are they? Have they come to save you? Have you seen them comin' through that door?"
I close my eyes. He's scaring me. My heart pumps so fast I think it will explode. I'm so dizzy I barely can't see. The fear makes me almost paralyzed.
"Come on, Ponyboy," he whispers, lifting himself up a bit and places a hand on my hip. "You will never get away. You will end up just like me. Just like me." He suddenly grins.
That wakes me up. I squirm, take my free arm and start to push at him, hit him as hard as I can.
"No! I ain't like you! I'm not gonna be like you!"
He manage to catch my arm again, pins it down next to my head. I struggle to get free, but then I see what it is in his eyes. What I saw before. It's hate, but it's not hate against me. Suddenly I understand what it is, but I can only hope it will help me escape from this.
"No... l-listen..." I try to make my voice steady, keep my body still, but it's hard between the sobs. "You - you don't wanna do this. Please. You don't! You - you will just be worse than the ones you hate for real. It's not m-me who will be you, it's you who will be t-them! Them who did those things. You already are like them!" I take a shaky breath. "You don't hate me. You hate yourself! Don't you see? It didn't help to kill my parents 'cause they are not the one you hate! Not - not really. You- it's you-"
His hand turns to a fist and it punches me right in the stomach, takes the words from me. It hurts so much. And then the weight on top of me disappears and I turn around to my side and face the wall, crawl into a fetal position.
I can't stop crying.
xXx
Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1966
The last one going is Steve. I hear him and Soda talk while stepping outside.
"What about tomorrow?" Steve says.
"Yeah, that," I hear Soda answer. "Could you-?"
He lets go of the front door and it closes, chopping off his sentence. I glance up at Darry, who collects the dirty dishes from the coffee table. Wanting something to do, I start to pick up all the cards laying shattered all over the place. Playing poker here isn't always playing poker - it usually ends with us fooling around, making up our own rules and then throwing cards around when discovering that someone, usually Soda, cheats.
It was a great break, but I can see in Darry's tight jaw that there will be more talking. Soon.
Thank you so, so much for your support to this story! I hope you liked this chapter. The next one will probably be the last.