Hello, I'm back, and this chapter does include quite a lot of violence and some blood... so you have been warned.
WARNINGS: BLOOD, VIOLENCE, LANGUAGE, BRIEF MENTIONS OF PROSTITUTION TOWARDS THE END
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Of course, the romantic moment had to be ruined when Soda's phone began to ring.
Bring! Bring!
"Hang on, Aimee," he told her, taking out his flip phone. "It's Steve."
He flipped it open and answered the call.
"Steve, could you call back later? I'm kind of in the middle of a date, and-"
"I don't care, Soda! You need to get home now!"
Soda paused. Steve sounded so frantic, so worried, so fearful. It was like he was screaming 'somebody's dying here!' but it was even worse. Steve sounded... almost guilty... like whatever had happened was his fault. Steve Randall never regretted anything; it was just something he didn't do. The change scared Soda to death.
"Steve, what's wrong?" He demanded. Aimee perked up at his urgent tone of voice as she slipped her hand into his and tried to listen in on the phone call (his phone didn't have a speaker button).
"Soda, it's horrible. There's so much blood, and-and he's bruised and bloody and burned. He's unconscious, Soda, but he keeps muttering your name. He sounds hysterical, Soda; you need to get here now!"
"Who, Steve?"
"Ponyboy."
That word got Soda moving. Dragging Aimee to the truck, he hopped in and practically threw the vehicle onto the main road. He was nearly ten miles over the speed limit, and that number was climbing, but he didn't care; his little brother needed him.
Not even fifteen minutes later, the couple was peeling into the driveway and leaping out of the truck and into the house.
The house was in chaos. Two Bit was rifling through cabinets, pulling out towels, napkins, bandaids, medicines, and everything in between. Steve, meanwhile, was pacing near the door, holding a bloody towel while Dally stood by the couch, holding something down. Darry was working hurriedly with some first aid supplies; Johnny was talking to the thing- more accurately, person- on the sofa.
Soda shoved past them all to get a look at the person.
It was Ponyboy, not that he looked like him at the moment, but Soda would recognize his little brother anywhere.
His blonde hair was highlighted with crimson blood, and it was plastered to his forehead by sweat and the same sticky substance that dyed the yellow color red. Pale and sickly, he looked like an incredibly ill patient that Soda had seen at they hospital. Bruises painted his skin blue and black and purple, mingling with scarlet that poured from cuts and scrapes. Ugly cigarette burns lined his forearms, shoulders, and collar bone. It was a horror movie come true for Soda.
"Pony," he whispered, his voice hoarse and his throat dry.
He knelt beside Darry, brushing a strand of hair from Ponyboy's face, sobbing when he saw the horrifying cut that poured buckets of blood down the side of Ponyboy's face. Someone had really tried to kick his head in.
"Pony, baby..."
"Sooodaa," he slurred. "'Uurts soo bad."
"I know, baby, but Darry's gonna fix you up, and you'll be good as new. Oh, Pony, who did this to you?"
"Peeople... from the... Hallow...een daance," Ponyboy spat out blood, tears falling down his face. "It 'urts, Soda. P-Please, m-make it st-stop!"
"I know it hurts, baby. We're gonna make it better. Just go to sleep, and you'll be all better in the morning," Soda promised, his voice shaking.
Pony nodded, drifting back into a sea of blackness. Honestly, that was the best place for him right now...
Soda looked up. "What. The hell. Happened?!"
Steve answered, "Well, Pony went down to the DX to get some cancer sticks, b-but he was gone for ten minutes when it should've taken him five. We waited another five minutes before Two Bit and I went to find him; we weren't really worried at first. But then, we heard the screaming.
"It was horrible, Soda. I've never heard someone scream so much or so loudly. Two Bit and I found him getting beaten up; we screamed at the guys to leave him alone, and they hopped in a car and drove off. We would've gone after them, but Ponyboy needed us more."
Soda didn't miss how Steve referred to Ponyboy as Ponyboy or Pony instead of the kid or your kid brother. On a normal occasion, he would've jumped with joy because maybe the two could finally get along, but now wasn't the time.
"I should've been there," Soda whispered.
"Soda," Darry murmured. "You can't be there all the time."
"I know," he mumbled back. "But I was supposed to be home by now, and-"
"Soda," Steve stated, firmly. "You can't protect Pony all the time. This is our fault. Darry was doing the laundry, and we were supposed to be watching out for him; we were the ones that asked him to go get cigarettes instead of going ourselves. I'm sorry."
"Me, too, " Two Bit muttered. "Why do bad things always have to happen to good people?"
"Who knows, Two Bit?" Johnny responded.
Moments passed in a horrifying silence.
Finally, Aimee whispered, "I'm sorry that he's hurt, Soda, but he'll be okay. I know he will."
"Physically," he muttered, "but mentally? Johnny certainly wasn't after he was jumped, and that wasn't half as bad as this."
Johnny nodded. "But Pony's a lot stronger than I am, Soda."
"Nonsense," Pony murmured, his swollen eyes fluttering open as much as he could manage. "You're the strongest person I know, Johnny."
Johnny smiled, softly, grabbing Pony's hand in his. "Nonsense. You're way braver than I am. Hell, if you can keep your dreamy, sunset loving ways after everything that's happened, you are stronger than anyone else."
"Johnny's right," Aimee told him. "You're incredible, Pone." She placed a hand on his shoulder... gently, I assure you.
"As soon as you're better though, I am going to ground you," Darry said. "What have I told you about walking alone? As for you two," he pointed at Steve and Two Bit, "if you were my kids, I'd ground you for life. For now, though, as long as you're in my house, no Mickey, no beer until further notice."
"But Darry!" They groaned.
Darry gritted his teeth as he gestured sharply to Ponyboy, who motioned to his injuries.
"Oh, right... alright," Two Bit said, blushing.
"Okay," Steve grumbled.
"Now, let me see your ribs, Pony, I need to make sure they're not broken," Darry said, kneeling beside Ponyboy and with a lot of effort and pain, the pair were able to slip Pony's shirt off.
Dally backed out of the room, and they heard him run into the kitchen and puke into the sink. Two Bit dropped his beer bottle, shattering it on the hard wood floor. Steve dropped into an arm chair, gaping with a wide open mouth; Johnny fell away from the couch. Aimee's eyes widened; tears sprung to Soda's eyes. Darry took a shuddering breath.
"Is it really that bad?" Pony muttered.
Darry blinked away tears. "Yeah, baby, it's pretty bad, but I can heal it."
"We should get out of here. Give him some space," Steve suggested, but Soda was way ahead of him.
The blonde stormed out the front door, allowing it to bang home behind him. Aimee followed him.
"Soda," she began, but Soda didn't let her finish. He dove into her arms and cried into her shoulder.
"Shh, Soda, it's okay," she whispered.
"No, it's not. You saw it; how could somebody fucking do that?" Soda sobbed.
"I don't know, Sodapop. I just don't know."
They stood out there for what seemed like forever and a minute, but Soda never wanted it to end. He wanted to stand here with Aimee for the rest of eternity, holding her close and breathing in the lavender smell of her dark hair while her warm arms rubbed his back. He was safe here; no death, no pain, no fear, only love.
"Soda, Pony's asking for you," Johnny interrupted from the doorway.
Soda slowly slipped out of his girlfriend's arms and stepped into the house, kneeling beside the couch, where Ponyboy was flinching and whimpering.
"That really hurts, Soda," he whispered.
"Darry, what's going on?" He asked.
"When Ponyboy was beaten, he was beaten to the point where his body actually went numb, and now, that numbing is wearing off-" Darry began, running his hand through his hair like he did when he was worried.
"And the pain is setting in," Soda finished.
Darry nodded, somberly.
"That must really hurt," Soda mumbled.
He placed his shaking hand on Pony's most sickening injury, stiffling a sob as his little brother flinched and tried to shield away from the touch.
Carved into his lower stomach, right above his waist band, was a single word.
WORTHLESS.
Luke tapped his foot, nervously, while his friends chuckled cruelly around the table.
"Remember? 'Oh, please, don't hurt me. Please. Soda! Soda, where are you?'" Brandon laughed, doing a horrible impression of Ponyboy Curtis.
"I know! He was on the verge of begging for death," Michael agreed, speaking around his cigarette.
"Can you blame him? We beat him pretty bad," Carlos pointed out with a smirk. "Little weakling. Barely tried to fight back."
"Stop it," Luke commanded.
The guys and girls looked up from where they were talking or playing poker at the card table.
"What?" Chloe said in a snotty tone after a moment of silence.
"You heard me. Stop it. I can't believe you did that. That kid has been through hell in the past year what with his parents and Bob and trials, and you all just made it worse. What the hell do you have against him?" Luke snapped.
Michael shrugged. "Nothing, but Marcia-"
"To hell with Marcia! She's only doing this to get back at that sister of hers, which is no excuse, but you... none of you can even come up with an excuse! You're just doing this for fun. How fucking sick is that?"
"You better watch it, McCoy," Brandon muttered, dangerously.
"No! I will not 'watch it' anymore," Luke growled. "Look, the only reason I did this was because I didn't want to lose you as friends. But with friends like you, who needs enemies?"
"Get out," Stephanie, one of Chloe's friends, ordered.
"Gladly. See you in hell, bastards."
Luke McCoy promptly left and didn't look back.
When he was three blocks away, it started to rain, and he seriously considered going back. They were his only friends, after all; he couldn't just throw them away.
But like he said, with friends like that, who needs enemies, so he continued walking in the pouring rain.
He considered going home, but there was no one there, so what was the point? His mom was out sleeping with some guy for money again, and his dad... well, his dad hadn't come home in five years. What was the point in going back to that empty house?
So Luke walked around, not going anywhere, but never standing still. Before he knew it, he was in a place that he hadn't consciously decided to walk to, but maybe he'd intended to come here all along.
He sat on a swing in a park just down the street from his destination and took a shaky breath.
Was this really the best idea? I mean, they undoubtedly hated his guts. They'd probably kill him the minute he walked through the door!
But he had to apologize. It was time to stop running from his mistakes; they'd catch up with him eventually. They always did.
He couldn't stop hearing that kid's voice.
"Please, please stop! Please, it hurts! AHHH!"
No one had even come to help him.
"Please... please... DARRY! SODA, PLEASE HELP ME! DALLY!"
Why was the world so cruel?
Why did he have to be so cruel?
Why? Why? Why?!
After another moment of hesitation, he stood and approached the front door.
He shouldn't be asking why. Asking wasn't fixing. It was time for him to stop wondering why without doing something about it. That was his parents' job. Not his.
He knocked.
One of the boys that had come to the poor kid's rescue answered the door. He was a good head taller than Luke with slightly crooked teeth and hair shining with hair grease. His once white shirt was now scarlet with the kid's blood.
He took a deep breath and said, "I'm Luke McCoy. I need to speak with Ponyboy Curtis."
There was no turning back now.
I apologize for any mistakes, but like I've said in previous chapters, my auto correct sucks, so I just have to do my best!
Anyway, over 2000 words! Celebration!