A/N: A short chapter, sorry. Apologies for taking a million years to update, but a girl gets busy. c: Foyet is making me tamales, mojitos and muffins and he says hello. R/R
Third Person P.O.V
Ponyboy collapsed on top of a bench, his breath rushing out in labored streaks. His heart was pumping much quicker than before he ran from the man who was after his pills.
Never again would he let such a terrible thing happen. Ponyboy's left eye twitched a little as he unscrewed a bottle of childproof Tylenol and poured three into his sweaty, bloody palms.
Childproof.
What a funny, ironic word. A word that meant absolutely nothing. He was so used to unscrewing the lids that it was almost second nature to him. "Childproof" was a bunch of bullshit. Just like Darry's claims and Sodapop's biased fights. Ponyboy could, quite literally, feel the rage and pain surge through his veins as he attempted to keep his anger to a minimum. Ponyboy's pupils dilated as he popped another Tylenol into his mouth, taking it dry. He made a disgusted face and cringed, creating a mental note to drink water the next time his stupid ass decided to take pills.
"Sir, this is the end of the bus route. You'll need to get off now," The driver stared down at his palms with sympathy. "Poor kid. Someone sure did a number on ya." Ponyboy looked down and hopped off the bus, the driver's wallet clutched in his hands. That's what someone gets for leaving their posessions on a public bus seat. As soon as he was to a safer location in the middle of nowhere, he got the courage to open the wallet and peek inside. There really wasn't much, but there was enough for him to start saving up to buy a plane ticket the hell out of Tulsa. Hell, maybe even out of Oklahoma. Like Dally, he'd gotten into a murder rap before, but not intentionally.
Ponyboy's mind wandered to seven different places. Out of all the aliases he could have chosen to hide the greaser he once was, why did he have to choose what seemed like the strangest, most cliche name alive? God, why, out of all names, did he choose "George"? Pony took a breath. It was too late to change what had already been officalized. Perhaps, it was like it being written in stone.
He wasn't Ponyboy Curtis anymore. The realization of his own identity crisis crashed upon him heavily, sending him into a whirlwind of paranoia. What if someone found out that not only had he intentionally murdered a black man (which could also be considered a hate crime), but that he had jipped another's wallet? They could easily trace the crimes back to the bleach blonde greaser with blood on his palms. The mere thought of being sent back to Tulsa made him feel just like Death. Bleak. Dark.
It made him feel like the Reaper.
"Ponyboy! Where the hell did you run off to this time, you little shit?!" Steve hollered, sprinting past the DX into the West Side. He easily ignored all of the rude, Soc stares and continued to hunt for Ponyboy. Soda and Darry would have hunted, except for the fact that they were too emotionally riveted by, again, another disappearance. This time, however, there was another factor involved.
There had been a murder against a black man, and all the signs pointed straight back to Ponyboy. Why in the world Ponyboy would kill somebody was beyond the entire gang's comprehension. This wasn't a serial murder they were after, this was, well, Ponyboy. He wouldn't hurt a fly unless the situation called upon it to be so. Steve took a breath and hollered again.
No reply. There really wasn't much point into giving a fuck about Ponyboy's whereabouts any more. His best friend and his best friend's older brother let the little boy do what he pleased, and, if Pony ended up dead, it was no body's fault but his own. As Steve trekked back through the West Side and home to his territory, he unconciously noticed something strange in the cool atmosphere. He looked about, trying to pinpoint the source of the putrid smell. It couldn't have been the black druggie's body, for the mortition had already taken the body away. Suddenly, the smell hit him.
It smelt like Death.