I moaned, loudly. My arm felt like it had been lit on fire; so this is what being shot felt like after the adrenaline rush... well, I was right about it hurting like hell...
My breathing was getting increasingly heavier. I can't believe how much pain was going through me. I gripped my arm even tighter, almost doubling over in my seat.
"S-soda...?" I wailed, loudly.
"It's ok, baby... I'm right here," he tried to soothe me, but I knew it was loosing hope this time... I don't think anything could soothe this pain.
"Soda... it hurts." I cried, feeling hot tears.
"I know, honey... listen, where almost home. I need you to try and stay calm, ok?"
As we turned onto our street he pressed harder on the accelerator, throwing us back in our seats. Then swerved the car up our drive, almost overshooting it, and putting it in park. He threw open his door, coming round my side.
"Com'er baby," he said, unbuckling me. "Put your arms round my neck. I'm gonna carry you in." He lifted me out the car, and kicked the door shut.
He carried me straight to our room, placing me on the bed. Everything around me was happening like a blur, I was in so much pain I couldn't see straight. He pulled my shoes off, and helped me out of my clothes into my pyjama bottoms. Then left the room.
I hadn't seen any sign of Two-Bit, my guess is that he'd left - most likely to give us some space and wait till tomorrow to pick up his car... us boys are all like that; if someone needs something, the other person'll do it no questions asked. It's much like that saying goes, "What's yours is mine, what's mine is ours." Yep, something like that, either way nothing goes unshared around 'er.
I glanced at the bedside clock, 11:36. Darry still won't be home for at least another half hour.
Soda came back in with the first aid, an ice pack, and an old ice cream tub of soapy water. He set them down, then took a seat on the edge of the bed beside me, as I continued to lay on my side, facing Soda.
I watched him search through the clear tub, that held the first aid supplies - producing a small glass bottle with clear liquid. I didn't recognise the medicine, as any I'd taken before. I shifted slightly, trying to see the labelling: Clindamycin - the name didn't sound familiar, then it clicked.
A couple months back, Darry's boss had taken on a contract where they were required to replace the existing shingles with sheet metal roofing. Somewhere during the job, Darry had sliced himself good, leaving a gaping wound in his palm. I remember the doctor prescribing him with medication to stop infections, and that him and Soda had disappeared to the bathroom, keeping it mostly hush from me.
Constant chills ran through me. They were gradually growing worse, sending a violent wave around my body every few seconds.
"S-soda..." I cried, not sure I can handle the pain too much longer.
"It's alright, baby," he soothed, as he sat the bottle on the bedside. He pulled a white cloth from the first aid, dunking it in the soapy water, and started on washing the blood away from down my arm and around the wound, but leaving the wound itself alone for the moment. I found his free hand, and gripped it with my bloody one, as I watched the blood magically disappear from my arm.
He disposed of the bloody rag, landing it in the waste basket. Then shuffled a little closer to me, as he pulled me towards him, letting me rest my head in his lap - facing him. I curled up, resting my hands just below my chin.
"I need you to close your eyes for me, baby." I glanced up at him, with a questioning look.
"Do you trust me?" he asked gently.
I didn't pause a second, before nodding. If there's anyone I trust more than anything... it's Soda.
I saw just a tiny hint of smile creep onto his face - maybe for reassurance. "Ok, baby... close your eyes."
I did, feeling slightly nervous as to what he was about to do. I wasn't sure what it was, but if it'd take the pain away... I didn't care.
I felt him shifting, and heard the clink of the glass bottle, that'd been on the beside. Then there was a crinkle of thin plastic, with the seal being pulled open. I couldn't fully make out the next sound... it was faint, but sounded like something sucking, or filling - something sucking water, maybe?
Then the coldness of the ice was felt on my upper arm, he held it, numbing the area. It was cold... but felt good, soothing almost. He removed the ice, and rubbed something lightly around on a spot at the top of my arm, then I felt his hand clamp down at the top of my elbow, holding firmly.
"S-soda...?"
"It's alright baby, your doin' really good," he encouraged, then added. "What did you think about those cars tonight, they sure were tough, huh?"
Sure the cars were tough, and if it were any other night in another situation, I'd have been glad to talk about the night and how tough the cars were. But tonight in this situation I didn't even wanna think about the cars, or the races. It'd only flood back unwanted memories of what only happened so few hours earlier. As I was thinking my mind started racing, picturing the black handled pistol, as the latch clicked, unloading the sleek gilding lead, as it passed through... don't think... don't think about how young he was, the blood spewing from his chest as he lay there dying... don't think... don't think... if he had been a better shot, I may not have been so lucky...
I swallowed hard, and nodded.
"What would your pick be outta 'em, kiddo?"
Don't think...
"Umm..." I started to answer, then winced, as a sudden but painful jab entered my arm, almost like being pinched. The feeling all too familiar... he knows how afraid I get. I think he was smart, not showing me. But even so, it hurt...
"Shh... it's alright, just relax... which one, Pony?" he asked, trying to district me.
"Umm... I d-don't know...the C-chevelle," I winced again, with tears filling my eyes, and grabbed a fist full of the front of his shirt, gripping it tightly in my left hand, "a-and Mustang." I answered, unable to help the quiver in my voice, as he pushed the needle all the way in - the medicine burning as it filled my arm.
"S-soda..."
"Shh... I gotcha, Pony... I'm right here." He gave a soft sigh, before lightly adding. "They sure are tough cars, aren't they... tough and fast."
I nodded, not wanting to think any more of the race; but also not wanting to think about the shot, or him pulling it out. He lightly brushed my hair back gently, as he held a cloth to the spot - for the blood, then massaged the medicine into my arm. I left my eyes closed, it was probably better if I didn't see anyways.
Something was then dipped into the bucket of water, then rung out - with the sound of water hitting water - a washcloth.
He pressed the soaked cloth to the bullet wound, irritating it - causing the burning to increase. I cried out, opening my eyes, and tried to pull away - unsuccessfully, as Soda still had a firm hold on me. "Shh, Pony..." Soda soothed quietly, as he repeatedly dipped the cloth into the soapy water, washing out the wound.
"Your doin' good, kiddo... your doin' real good." Soda tried to encourage, as I was caught up in his grip, and had to endure the pain with no means of escape.
I glanced at my arm. The bullet had made good impact; a huge chunk of flesh had been ripped from my arm - almost 2 inches long, and was deep, and red - it looked almost sickly.
"You know... your pretty lucky, Pony. It could have been a whole lot worse." Soda said, inspecting the damage. He was right, and I knew that... the same thought had crossed my mind a time or two. The bullet could have as easily imbedded my chest, stomach, or a main artery having me bled out within minutes.
I remember long ago as Johnny and I would sit out by the lot and stare at the dark lone night sky, as the millions of stars twinkled overhead much like a diamond catching the glint of the sun and throwing off its dazzling gleam. We'd lay our heads back on the Ol' bench seat, mesmerised, I'd point out the constellations to Johnny like I did most times we sat out there, and he'd take them in in wonderment as I pointed towards the sky. But I remember how Johnny once asked, he stared up at the sky and said, "Do you think there must be angels up there watching out for us?"
And I'd look over at him, then glance up at the sky, "Well sure, my moms up there. Maybe she's an angel?"
"Golly, I'm sure she is, Ponyboy. I'm sure she's watching over us right now." And that ended the conversation with us both gazing up at the sky. But now I think about it, I'm sure he's right as someone had to have been looking out for me today, as like Soda said - it could have been a whole lot worse.
Soda reached around into the first aid, producing the bottle of alcohol - I knew this was gonna hurt, and I had nowhere to go. Soda held my arm in a vice-like grip, to keep me from moving.
"Baby, I'm not gonna lie...this will hurt, but I need you to try keep still."
Without further warning he tipped the bottle up, pouring the liquid into the gash - it burned like no other. I writhed and shook in his grip, as I screamed bloody murder.
It ran down my arm, like liquid hot ash... but rather then putting out the flames, the flames burned rapidly, and painfully. I wasn't sure how much more I could handle.
He turned the bottle back up, stopping the flowing alcohol. Involuntary harsh tremors overtook my body, as I lay there panting heavily - soft tears pooled up in my eyes, and rolled slowly off my cheek into the denim of Soda's jeans.
Soda's hand softly caressed my sweaty forehead, as he carefully brushed the damp hair back. "I know it hurts, baby... I know. But it's almost done, honey... it's almost over."
He continued to gently stroke my hair, until my breathing calmed to almost normal. Then he tipped the bottle back up, filling the wound once again with the burning liquid.
"Soda..." I sobbed out, I wanted to tell him no more. "Soda..." I couldn't get the words out. I thrashed around so much, the wound opened, causing it to bleed again.
I suddenly bolted upright, feeling my stomach take on a violent turn.
"Soda..." I gasped.
Everything happened in a fast blur - Soda pushed the waste basket against my chest, as the bile quickly rose in my throat, and everything I had in my stomach came rushing out.
I pulled away from the bin and choked out a loud sob. As tears rolled thick and fast down my face, and I trembled.
"Shh, it's alright, baby... It's ok." Soda reassured, as he rubbed my back.
I felt my face grow even paler as another wave of nausea hit. I found myself back over the bucket, bringing up more vomit. Even after my stomach felt empty, I continued to dry heave, as the acid burned at the back of my throat.
After my breathing returned to normal. I let myself collapse back against Soda feeling drained - the exhaustion and pain all too much. It just all became too overwhelming and I couldn't take anymore, and I just broke... as deep, loud sobs erupted from within me and shook my entire body.
"Shh, it's ok. I'm here," he hushed, trying to soothe me. "It's ok... Soda's here."
Soda held me close to his chest, with his arm around me. Turning slightly, he found a clean washcloth in the first aid and wet it using the leftover soapy water, then wiped away the freshly seeped blood, that was slowly making its path down my arm again.
Soda held me tighter to him, rocking me gently - as he pressed the cloth to my wound, and held it there. He whispered soothing things in my ear, rubbed my back, and stroked my hair - as I cried and cried.
Gradually my sobs became gentler and quieter - feeling too mentally and physically exhausted and tired to cry anymore. I relaxed against Soda, feeling warm in his strong embrace, and closed my eyes - falling asleep in his arms.
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Bella Lilac
A/N - I wish everyone a safe and happy new year, and all the best for 2016. Bella.