Chapter 2, here we go!

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The arm around my neck was thick and tight and sweaty, and hot breath was on my ear. The barrel of a gun dug into the back of my head. A Soc? Maybe.

"Your parents know you're out here, kid?" The voice was gravely, and it let out one quick chuckle. Can't you think of anything? Yes, Darry, I can.

"Yeah," I tried to say steadily, but it came out choked. "They're probably looking for me."

The voice chuckled again, and dug the gun harder into my head. He prodded me along with his foot, marching me across the street towards a car I hadn't noticed earlier. A red Chevy…maybe. Two doors, hardtop. Soda…I need you.

He opened the passenger door and shoved me in face first, gun still against the back of my head. He kneeled down on the back of my knees and pressed my face against the driver's seat. Then he began rummaging around in the glove compartment until he pulled out a rope, brought my hands behind my back, and tied them up. I sucked in a sharp breath as my fingers tingled from the sudden loss of blood. He just pressed down harder on the back of my head.

"What do you want?" I tried to ask through a face-full of seat fabric.

"Just shut up." I clamped my jaw shut tight as he pulled out another length of rope and tied it around my ankles. Fight. Fight! Part of me wanted to tell that little voice to can it, because the barrel of his gun was pressed so hard against my skull that they might have fused together. Instinct won out and as he started on the second knot, I kicked. Hard. My foot slipped out of the loose rope and right into his face. The gun was still on me, but the pressure was relieved a little bit.

I snuck a glance sideways, and he had a hand over his face, blood streaming from his nose. "Dammit, kid! Hold still or I'll blow your fucking head off!"

The gun was back on my head, this time held with two hands. I felt a drop of blood drip onto my neck. And then his breath was hot on my neck again.

"You ready to die?" I tried to hold it in, but a tremor rocked me. He laughed, "I didn't think so."

With my face pressed against the seat again, I didn't even see the next blow coming.

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Before my eyes could focus, my tongue was pushing against a mass inside my mouth. Baloney? Through my gag, I let out one short laugh, which came out more like a sob, and turned into a few real sobs. The tears dribbled slowly down my cheeks, and they seemed to clear out my fuzzy eyes, bringing a strange room into focus. No window, but a door. A bed, nicely dressed, a nightstand with a lamp on it. I was confused.

That is, until I tried to stand up from my spot on the floor, and found that my feet were bound, my hands tied to a bar screwed into the wall. Shit.

I blew out as hard as I could, hoping to dislodge my gag. It moved forward only a tiny bit, but just enough for me to get my tongue firmly behind it. With one good push, the soiled rag popped out and into my lap. It was a rather sickening feeling letting my saliva slowly seep through my jeans, so I wiggled around against my restraints until it rolled onto the floor.

The gag left my mouth completely dry, and I swallowed thickly a few times trying to get some moisture back. I wished crazily for a Pepsi, and another short laugh turned into a sob. Pull it together, Ponyboy. Pull it together. My throbbing head didn't help any. Neither did the line of blood dripping down my neck from the side of my head. I could only assume that he'd pistol-whipped me. It sure felt that way.

I was feeling kind of fuzzy. My head throbbed and my wrists ached. What day is it? I was having trouble holding onto thoughts…they kept slipping away.

"This is like being drunk." I mumbled stupidly. I let my head fall against my chest and closed my eyes…

The next thing I knew, someone was pulling my chin up.

"Wakey, wakey." Gravelly Voice held my chin in one of his big, sweaty hands. He had dark sun glasses on, but I could see every one of his crooked teeth as his stubble-strewn face stretched into a grim smile. Keeping my chin in his grasp, he motioned behind him and a tall, skinny, blonde man stepped into my vision. He knelt down next to Gravelly Voice and plucked at a piece of my hair. I tried to pull away, but Gravelly Voice kept me still.

"What do you want?" I tried again. They didn't seem to hear me.

"How is he?" Gravelly Voice asked, turning to Skinny. Skinny studied my face hard for a moment. He scrunched up his nose, as if in thought, and then sighed.

"Yeah. He's fine."

Gravelly Voice stood up and clapped his hands once, before reaching his hand out to Skinny, who put an envelope in them. Gravelly Voice gave me one last grim look, and then marched out of the room. Skinny knelt down next to me again. I searched my fuzzy brain for something, anything, to say. I came up with nothing. Left empty, I began to tremble slightly.

"It's 10'o'clock in the morning," Skinny said, settling in on the floor next to me. "You were out for a long time."

"Yeah," I muttered drowsily. I was really tired all of a sudden. "Don't let him hit me so hard next time."

"Oh, he's not coming back." Skinny put a hand on my leg, which I flinched back from. He scrunched up his nose again, and pulled my face towards him. "That little reflex is going to have to change." Come on, Ponyboy. Think. Think!

"What do you want?"

Skinny just stood up, and headed for the door. My eyelids were drifting closed, and I struggled to stay awake as white spots floated across my vision.

"Hey!" I shouted weakly, "What do you want?!"

"The same thing as everyone else."

I heard him lock the door from the outside as I finally drifted off.

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