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This is torture. Sitting here, waiting for some answers, waiting for the doctor to get his ass over here and give us some answers. I read the clipboard, but it didn't have much on it. Basically it said how he got here, when he was admitted, and what drugs they were using. The rest was doctor scribble I couldn't understand. I needed my baby brother to talk too. I wanted so badly for him to open his eyes and tell me he was alright. But he wasn't alright. My baby was sick. And I couldn't help him. My brain was a torture chamber torturing me with own thoughts. I. Needed. My. Baby. Brother.

The hand in mine twitched. Relief flooded through me.

"Sodapop?"

"Ponyboy?

"What are you doing here?"

I was hurt.

"I was worried sick about you."

"Oh."

"Does it hurt?"

"No."

But I could tell he was lying. Pain was written all over his face. I can read him very well. He hasn't admitted he was in pain since he taught who to talk. I learned to adapt.

I gave him a pointed look that told him I knew he was lying. He flashed me a guilty look.

"Where are the rest of the gang?"

"Well, Dally jumping Soc's, Two-bit gone to Bucks, Steve's in the hallway, he wants to talk to you, and Johnny, and Darry have gone to get some food."

His face hadn't shown any surprise until I mentioned Steve.

"Steve wants to talk with me?"

"Steve feels guilty. Give him a chance."

"Fine," he said, grudgingly.

I smiled and got up. As much as it hurt to leave him, Steve really wanted to talk to him, and I wanted to give them space.

I wonder if Darry and Johnny have found some chocolate milk…..

…

Soda walked past me and patted my back.

"Don't upset him!" he called.

"I'm not making any promises," I muttered.

I slipped through the doorway.

"Hey Ponyboy," I called softly, as to not startle him. He jumped anyway, and his tubes moved with him. I flinched. I still felt guilty.

"How are you doing?"

"I'm ok."

I sat down awkwardly, not knowing how to say what I was thinking. I had never been a people person.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For being such as asshole. I was just jealous. I wanted all of Soda's attention."

He smiled lightly.

"I know."

Smart kid. I should have guessed he already knew.

"I shouldn't have harassed you, or made fun of you, or called you names."

"I know."

There was a pause.

"Why did you do it?"

"Do what?"

"You know, take the knife for me."

"They would have killed you, you weren't expecting it."

"It nearly killed you!"

"But if I had done nothing, and let it kill you, it would have been my fault!"

"Pony, you shouldn't have acted the hero."

"They what should I have done? Let them kill you? Done nothing? Well I'm sorry for helping you!"

The heart monitor in the corner started beeping really fast, and he was breathing quicker. His eyes were darting around, looking panicked.

I got worried.

"Calm down kid."

His body convulsed once, then his eyes rolled back, and he was still. The heart monitor stopped beeping. It flat lined, and a whine came out of the machine, alerting some nurses in the hall. I was frozen. The nurses shoved me out the room and slammed the door in my face. I just stood there, staring blankly.

Soda walked up to my side and shook me.

"Steve?"

I didn't move.

A doctor came running down the hall to Pony's room. Soda stopped him.

"What's going on?"

"Your brother is dying," he said, and quickly went into the room, shutting the door behind him.

Soda stiffened. His eyes went wide, his mouth opened, and he fell to his knees.

There was nothing to hold him up.