Sunday, March 9, 1969

x

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Molly Atkinson was twenty-two years old when she died of asphyxiation. She was a role model to her two younger siblings, a loving daughter to her parents, and the most beautiful partner to her boyfriend. She was bright and going places. There was so much ahead of her that she didn't deserve to have stripped of her.

The police found Molly just past midnight on March 8th, after an unknown caller gave them the approximate location of her body. She was discovered in an alleyway between Archer Street and Detroit Avenue, her throat slit open. Due to defensive marks on her hands, investigators have determined that her death was a homicide. Although the victim's dress had been torn and ripped, leaving her almost bare, the crime is not believed to be sexually motivated. The reason behind this murder is currently unknown, and there are no current suspects.

Molly supposedly had been on her way home from a visit to her friend's house when she had been attacked. She left her friend's home around ten-thirty on March 7th, placing the estimated time of death to be between ten-forty that night and midnight.

My eyes stared at the television blankly as it flashed another photo, her smile wide and eyes glistening. She looked happy in that photo, completely unaware she would end up murdered in some alley, the only witness was some drunk and high high school kid. The more I looked into her dead eyes, the further I slipped into a spiral of haunting memories. She's dead, that poor woman is dead, and I, the sole witness, won't come forward.

What information could I give them anyway? Nothing they didn't already know, or at least that's what I told myself, trying to trick my brain into believing that I was doing the right thing. The police already assumed she was murdered, which is a step in the right direction, and even if I wanted to, I couldn't describe her killer usefully. He was big and tall with what I think were grey eyes, but how would that narrow anything down?

The screen flashed to her mother, a handkerchief clutched tightly in her palm. Her mouth opened to speak when the television turned off. Darry gave me a cool glare when I finally realized he was in the room. His hair was uncombed and his beard unshaven, clearly he hadn't even started his morning routine yet.

"I was watching that." I pointed out, leaning back on the sofa as I watched him.

"You've been watching it for twenty minutes." His tone was cold, unamused by his brother's fascination with a murdered woman. "Ain't you heard enough?"

My reply came quickly and easily. "No,"

He shook his head, slightly annoyed but also slightly intrigued. "I don't see why; it's about a girl who was killed. That's horrible. How can you watch it so calmly?"

Compared to what I'd seen, the simplified and barely completed story was nothing. I shrugged and said, "I'm just curious. It's tragic, but it's local."

Darry looked at me silently, then nodded, still on alert. "I guess so… The last time somebody was killed, it would've been–" His eyes widened with realization, and he tried to cover his sentence with an awkward cough. "Sorry."

I guess the thought of Bob disturbed him, but I took no mind; Bob had already crossed my mind too many times to count. "It's fine, Darry."

It was obvious he still felt guilty. "Just watch something else. Better yet, go outside and get some fresh air."

I scoffed and got to my feet, walking closer to Darry. We were almost the same height now, Darry only an inch or so taller than me. I gave him a gentle nudge with my shoulder and spoke sarcastically, "You say that like I'm cooped up all the time."

"Aren't you?" he grinned at me, then shook his head and headed for the bathroom where I watched him start to rummage through some cabinets. "Why don't you go wake your brother?"

"I ain't his alarm clock," I sighed and headed to our bedroom. "Isn't he a grown man?"

"He isn't grown. He's twenty," Darry stated before adding under his breath. "Not that he acts it."

I snickered at Darry, then opened my bedroom door. Soda was still lying on his side, a bit of drool at the corner of his mouth as he snored softly. I jabbed his shoulder with my finger, to which his eyes twitched beneath his eyelids, but he didn't open them.

"Soda," I shook him a little, hands clasped on his shoulders. He mumbled and tried to roll over, causing me to sigh.

"Soda!" I repeated sterner now, adding more force to my shaking. He grumbled a bit louder but remained asleep. Finally, I pinched his cheek, which caused him to slap my hand and sit up.

"What the hell– Pony! What was that for?" he glared sleepily at me, pushing the blanket off of him but making no attempt at getting up.

"Get up, you're sleeping in."

"I'm allowed to! It's my day off!"

"Not according to Darry."

He swung his legs over the bed and got up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and walked towards the closet. "What's he care anyway? Doesn't he know I don't work on Sundays?"

I gave him a shrug for a response and left the room, my eyes slowly roaming over to the television. My palms grew clammy at the thought of turning it back onto the news and having to see Molly's face again, but it felt wrong to walk away. As I drifted towards the TV, Darry appeared from the washroom, beard now shaved and his appearance more clean.

"Ponyboy!" I jumped and looked over at him. "Don't even think about turning that TV back on!"

"I wasn't going to!" I defended myself, crossing my arms and trying to act inconspicuously.

He gave me a look that conveyed disbelief, then glanced at mine and Soda's room. "Is he up?"

"Yeah, just slow."

"Am not!" Soda came out of the room, dressed in a filthy white shirt and jeans he was fastening a belt onto. Darry's face fell at the sight.

"Seriously, Soda? You can't even bother to dress nice?"

Sodapop's eyebrows furrowed, but I could see him trying to resist a grin. "What's wrong with my outfit? Is it not up to your standards, Superman?"

Darry grumbled and turned away, smearing his face in his hand. "There's no way you threw that on thinking it looked good. Christ, Soda, do you ever do your laundry?"

"What? It's a nice shirt!"

"It's filthy."

"So what?"

I tuned them out, walking towards the kitchen to pour myself a glass of water to quench my thirst. The only thing my body wanted to stomach lately was water. When I turned around, I saw that Darry was gone, but Soda was walking towards me.

"My shirt isn't bad. Darry's just being picky." he said to me, tugging his shirt a little as he looked at it more intensely. "Right?"

"Sure," I glanced over the dirt splotches and wrinkles quickly, trying not to hover on any of them. "Ever considered that white may not be your colour?"

He rolled his eyes and pushed past me, heading directly for the icebox, where he pulled out an old chocolate cake, miraculously having survived three days in our house. There wasn't too much left besides a few crumbs. "Want some?"

My stomach twisted at the thought, and I shook my head. "No, thanks."

Soda shrugged his shoulders. "More for me." I placed my glass on the counter to wash later and turned to him as he wolfed the rest of it down.

When he finished eating, he placed the ray next to my glass. "What are you doing up so early?"

"I couldn't sleep." It was the truth, but I couldn't tell him I only saw Molly and that man when I closed my eyes.

A dark cloud covered his face, and I could see worry sketched in every crevice of his expression. "Are you having those nightmares again?"

"No," What harm was there in lying about that? If anything, admitting that I was having nightmares would cause more harm than good.

It was almost like he didn't believe me, which is strange, considering I've definitely never lied about being okay when I wasn't before. "Are you sure?"

"Come on, Soda. I haven't had a nightmare like that in years. Why would I start now?"

"Stress; you're going to college in a few months!"

Soda thought I was stressed about college? Honestly, college hadn't even crossed my mind once this weekend. "Soda, I'm fine. Trust me."

I could see his brain working to find something he could say in response. He wanted to keep prying. I could tell by the look in his eyes. Unfortunately for him, and fortunately for me, our front door kicked open, and in strutted Two-Bit, his rusty hair unkempt and falling into his freckled face.

"Hello, Curtis'!"

Soda reluctantly took his gaze off of me and smiled at Two-Bit. "Hey,"

He looked at me and whistled, eyes wide with mock concern. "Kid, have you heard of this concept called sleep? I ain't never seen such dark eye bags on nobody!"

Soda glanced at me, eyes narrowing as he too took note of my visible lack of sleep. Irritation grew in my stomach. "Shut up, why don't you? Mind your damn business."

The two shared a look of surprise, and the annoyance inside of me vanished as quickly as it came. Why did I snap at him?

"Didn't realize it was such a sore topic." Two-Bit raised his hands as if to surrender, and I frowned deeper, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to do that."

It was silent for a moment before Soda cleared his throat and our attention drifted over to him. "What's been going on with you, Two-Bit?"

I was thankful that Soda changed the topic, and Two-Bit happily went with it, talking about annoying customers he had to deal with throughout the week at the grocery store. Darry rounded the corner just then and spotted the three of us and the way I was slowly slinking away from them.

"Ponyboy, come here." he beckoned to me and I rushed over. "Run down to the store for me, will you? We're out of bread and I need some for dinner tonight."

I wasn't sure if he was making me do this instead of him because I had been noticeably itching to get away from Soda and Two-Bit, or because he thought I needed to get out of the house, but I didn't mind either way. "Yeah, sure thing."

He held up a finger that indicated to me to stay put before heading to his room to grab his wallet. While waiting for him to return I listened to Two-Bit in the other room.

"Say, have you seen the news lately?" His words made my heart drop to my stomach.

Soda sounded confused as he replied, "No, why?"

"This girl… Mary, was it? Maybe Mandy?"

I jumped into the conversation, "Molly."

Two-Bit and Soda both cast me an odd look, but Two-Bit nodded and pointed at me. "Yep, Molly. You've seen it too I'm guessing?"

"Uh, kind of," I said, trying to seem innocent. Why had I jumped in? What if they start to suspect something? "I heard her name on the news."

"Yeah, well, she was murdered."

Soda gasped, his eyes widening. "Really? That's awful! What happened?"

"Her throat was slit open." Two-Bit mimicked a slicing motion across his throat, and I cringed.

"What? My God, Two-Bit!"

"I know! She was real pretty too."

My stomach churned with each word they spoke, bile rising in my throat. I couldn't be in that house any longer. I was suffocating. Darry walked back into the room with the money and I snatched it from him to get out.

x

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Monday, March 10, 1969

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I'm sweating, but I'm too cold to be warm. Soda lay beside me, eyes closed as his chest raised and fell calmly. The only sound escaping his lips was a gentle snore. I looked all around the room, scanning it from left to right.

It was just a nightmare. It wasn't real.

My heart continued to hammer in my chest as I slowly lowered myself back into a sleeping position, my throat dry and eyes damp. It was too dark and too quiet. I could see her corpse everywhere I looked. I could still hear the sound of her choking to death.

It hit me suddenly that this wasn't just a dream I could wake up from; this was a living nightmare.

x

XXX

x

School passed by slower than I thought was possible. I sat in my AP English class, the period right before lunch, and spent the entire class trying not to fall asleep. When the bell rang, I practically hopped out of my seat to get out of there. Swinging my backpack over my shoulder, I rushed to the door when my teacher, Mr. Harrison, waved me over.

With a sigh, I walked over to him, shoulders slumped and a yawn desperately trying to push its way out through my lips. Mr. Harrison was young but mature enough to seem a decade older. He was always friendly to me but never treated me differently from any other student.

He scanned me over, eyes narrowed as he looked me over. I knew my hair was messy and my clothes were filthy since I had no clean clothes. Yeah, I looked pretty bad.

"Ponyboy, you know this class is difficult, and missing even one lesson could impact your grade." he started, leaning back in his seat with his hands in his lap. I stared at him in confusion as, to my knowledge, I hadn't skipped any of his classes.

"I haven't missed any classes, sir."

He laughed and shook his head slightly, eyes trained on my own. "Then, could you tell me what we learned today?"

His words stunned me, and I gaped at him for a few seconds before sighing and turning to the side, my hand running through my hair shamefully. "No,"

"Exactly," he straightened in his seat, and when I looked back at him, I felt embarrassment heat my cheeks. "Care to share what made you so distracted?"

"It's nothing, I just didn't sleep well." I excused myself lamely, unable to meet his eyes. "I apologize."

Mr. Harrison nodded, and in his hands, I noticed a pen that he twirled between his fingers. "Just get the notes from a peer. You're my brightest student. I'm sure you'll be fine."

A small smile appeared on my face, the compliment brightening my mood a little, but before I could reply he spoke again. "Have you heard anything from that university of yours?"

Amidst all the chaos in my life, college had completely slipped my mind. Quickly, I straightened my posture and nodded. "Yeah, I got in."

Mr. Harrison grinned and stood up, reaching over to slap my shoulder proudly. "I knew you would, Ponyboy. Congratulations."

"Thank you,"

"But don't think that exempts you from turning in homework."

Oh, right, my book report. It sat on my desk at home, unfinished yet due today. "Uh–"

"Don't," He held up a finger to silence me before any dumb excuse could start brewing in my brain. "Just have it on my desk tomorrow morning."

I ducked my head and muttered another "thank you" and "I'm sorry" before quickly scurrying from his classroom. I felt his eyes watch me the entire way out. As I walked down the halls, which were thankfully empty, somebody bumped into me playfully. Dean.

"Hey, man." I acknowledged, but I didn't stop walking.

He kept my pace, intent on holding a conversation. "What's up? You look pretty shitty."

My grip on my backpack tightened but I didn't snap at him as I had Two-Bit. "Yeah, thanks. I've only heard that about a thousand times."

Dean shrugged his shoulders, "Sorry, but it's the truth. You sleeping fine?"

"I am. Thank you, Mom."

A groan sounded beside me and I smirked at the knowledge I was bothering him. "Seriously, Curtis, do you have to be so difficult?"

"Yeah," We walked out the doors to the school and down the steps. He was still oddly determined to talk to me. Either he really liked me, or couldn't pick up on my obvious want to be alone.

"Listen, man, I'm sorry about ditching you Friday night."

The mention of Friday night momentarily stunned me, but I recovered and trudged on through the parking lot. I didn't know where I was going, but I wasn't going to stop walking until Dean left. "It's cool."

"It's not cool, something could've happened to you. After seeing the news about that girl–" My body went cold as he went on. "–All I could think about was "What if it was Ponyboy?" Shit, Curtis, what would've I done then?"

"Moved on?"

"Funny," he scowled as though my suggestion offended him.

"Why are you telling me this?" I stopped walking and turned around to face him. "It wasn't me, so why bother? I don't care, Dean. I don't."

His jaw clenched. "A girl died and you don't care? It seriously could've been you! You left my house around the same time she was murdered! What if that killer snatched you instead, huh?"

Dean was scarily close to what had happened. She did die right around when I left. What if that information floated around to the police? What if someone found out I'd let her die?

"If you feel guilty, don't. I'm fine, and if it matters so much, just throw the next track race and we can be even." I figured if I acted playful maybe he'd drop it.

It must've worked because a small smile spread across his lips. "You wish."

I grinned back at him, then looked across the parking lot where I saw a car speeding right towards us. I grabbed Dean's arm and we fell backward, the car narrowly hitting us. Brushing myself off, I got to my feet and was about to say some nasty things to the shitty driver when I recognized his rusty hair and stupid grin.

"Sorry kids, her breaks ain't working as good as they used to." Two-Bit laughed obnoxiously as he patted his car gently. Dean and I shared a look of disbelief before I unclenched my fists and sighed.

"You aren't going to be happy until you've killed me, huh?"

He leaned over to me and snickered. "Shoot, kid, I'd be lost without you! Now get in. We're going for a drive."

"I'm at school. Even though you remarkably managed to graduate, you can't just drag me from my classes."

"You're on lunch, I should know. I only spent years waiting for the clock to strike twelve each day. Now come on, I'll have you back before your precious classes."

I turned to Dean, rolling my eyes and sighing exaggeratedly loudly. "Well, if you don't see me in science next period, assume the worst."

He nodded, eyes playfully wide. "Sure thing. Wear a seatbelt."

"Ah, I don't have any." Two-Bit butted in.

Dean went to speak, but gave up and backed away, heading back to the school building. I climbed into Two-Bit's car reluctantly and glared at him.

"What's with the look?"

"What do you think? And hey, don't let any teachers see you. They've been cherishing every moment you've been gone."

"I think you meant grieving."

x

XXX

x

We pulled up to the DX station, almost hitting a crow who was peacefully chewing something on the sidewalk. How Two-Bit got a licence is beyond me.

The DX was lacking customers, so Two-Bit and I strolled inside, the bells above our heads chiming noisily. Steve, who was reading a magazine, his legs kicked up to rest on the counter, looked up at us and rolled his eyes. He dropped his legs to the floor and leaned back in his seat, discarding the magazine to a messy shelf full of wrappers and papers.

"Well, look at this. The grocery boy and the kid. Hey, ain't you got a job to be working at Two-Bit? Or did they fire you for slacking off?"

Two-Bit grinned and leaned over the counter to flick Steve in the head, to which he grumbled angrily and smacked his hand away. "Hey, Steve-o. We just stopped by to bless you with our presence. And for your information, I've got the day off."

"Oh my, lucky me." he grunted before calling out, "Hey Soda! Customers!"

After a moment, Soda came out from a back room, a box in his hands. He spotted us and walked over, dropping the box on the counter in front of Steve and smiling. "What are you two doing here?"

"To bless us, or something like that," Steve muttered, slicing the box open with his switchblade before taking some of the supplies out.

"Isn't it just great?" Two-Bit smirked before digging into the box and pulling out some chips. "Oh, sick, free snacks!"

"Those ain't for you!" Steve snatched the chips from Two-Bit's hand and walked over to shelve them. "Can't we get any paying customers for once?"

Soda shrugged, not minding our presence, unlike Steve. "Come on, Steve. When's the last time we got a visit from these two?"

"They've got debts to pay," he grunted and returned to take some more stuff out of the box. "All the free shit they've robbed of us."

"I have never robbed you. Scouts honour." Two-Bit placed a hand on his heart.

"You aren't a Scout!"

I glanced over at Soda. When he saw me he playfully rolled his eyes and I cracked a grin. With my hands, I made a gesture to indicate smoking a cigarette, then showed that my pockets were empty. He caught on to what I was asking, and with Steve distracted by arguing with Two-Bit, he snuck a package of cigarettes off the shelf and tossed them my way. I pocketed them and mouthed a thank you before heading outside to crack them open.

I stood to the side of the DX so they wouldn't stare at me from the windows. I watched cars drive up and down the street, my cigarette tasting like gold as I inhaled it. With all that was on my mind, I needed something like this to cool my nerves.

I'd gone a whole weekend without smoking because Darry didn't think they were important enough to buy for me when he went shopping, and I hadn't wanted to go buy them myself.

Suddenly, something piqued my interest; a red car that slowed down as though they were going to turn into the DX, but didn't. It was the strangest thing, they just sat there. I was confused and stared at them as they sat directly across the parking lot from me

Did I know them? The window was cracked down just enough that I could look at the driver, but they were too far away for me to identify them. I walked forward a little, straining to get a better look. It looked like a man… and with the way the light was reflecting, I could see that his eyes were dark. They almost looked grey.

The cigarette fell from my hand, and my jaw clenched. Grey eyes. Identical to the ones I saw hovering above Molly Atkinson as she choked to death on her own blood. I backed away, and I stumbled right into the wall of the DX. The rough texture stabbed at my back, but I could hardly feel it. Sensing my realization, he reached over and cranked his window down further so I could get a better look at his face. He had messy light blond hair, a crooked nose that looked like it had been broken at least once, and a twisted smile with perfect teeth that felt out of place with the rest of his appearance. My mind hardly processed what had happened when he sped off into the distance. I stood there, feeling faint because I knew for a fact that Molly Atkinson's killer had just shown me his face, and what the hell was I supposed to do now?