Hey everyone, sorry for such a delay with this chapter. Being in high school with a job takes up a lot of time :/ This chapter is pretty intense towards the end, so you have been warned.

Darry got the least amount of sleep out of everyone in the gang. He got up early to call into work for him and Soda, then tried going back to sleep but only got another hour or two. Even after that he was still the first one up. I figured he'd start making breakfast for everybody, but instead he made himself a cup of coffee and just sat at the kitchen table. I could tell he was thinking, about everything that has happened the pass few weeks. He was probably wondering how it all lead to my death.

I really wish I could talk to everybody. I know I say that a lot, but I really do. That way I could explain everything to him. Right now I really wanted to tell I was sorry for putting him through all this. He's only 20, he's so young when you think about it. But he acts to be so grown up all the time, deal with all this stress. It isn't fair. I don't know what's more stressful for him, having to take care of me and Soda, or having to cope with my death.

Steve was the first one up after Darry. He sat with him for awhile. They didn't really say much, then Steve had to leave for work. "Tell Soda I'll come back as soon as I get off work." He said as he headed out the door. Darry just nodded in response. Dally got up second. He said goodbye to Darry before lighting up a cigarette and leaving. I didn't have to follow him to know where he was going. He'd go to Buck's. Smoke and drink and take naps all day. That's all he does for a couple of days when somebody dies.

Soda finally got up around noon. It took him a long time to actually get out of bed. He just laid there for the longest time, staring up at the ceiling. I could tell he had a million thoughts running through his head, that all he wanted right now was to go back to sleep, wake up and have this all be a bad dream. He finally crawled out of bed, got dressed, didn't even bothering doing his hair (Which is a pretty big thing for a greaser) and went to the kitchen. Darry was still there, looking at a bunch of paperwork. I didn't know what most of it was. Probably insurgence or something. He looked up when Soda walked in.

"Hey buddy, how are you doing?" Darry asked, I was kinda surprised. He hasn't called Soda buddy in years.

"Just kinda numb right now." Soda answered.

"Yeah I know what you mean. Want breakfast?"

"No I'm not hungry yet." Soda said. He sat down at the table and Darry left him alone. Soda looked over at Two-Bit and Johnny, who were still sleeping. Johnny wold probably be up any minute. But Two-Bit was most likely gonna sleep all day. He'd get up at nighttime and drink some more and just get hungover again. I know Two-Bit likes to drink, and I've never had a problem with it, but I never seen him drink this much before. I knew why he was doing it to. He thought it could somehow fix the sadness he was feeling right now, too bad I couldn't tell him all it was gonna do is just make it worst.

Darry and Soda sat at the table in silence for awhile. Darry just went over the papers while Soda sat there drowning in his own thoughts. He finally banged on the table, alarming Darry.

"What is it?" Darry asked walking over to Soda.

"I just, I can't take this!" He exclaimed putting his face in his hands and starting crying. Darry wrapped his arms around him trying to calm him down. He finally did after a few minutes. "I wish this wasn't so hard, it's even harder than when Mom and Dad died." He said.

"I know, I know. It'll get easier though, I promise." Darry patted his back and walked back over to the paperwork. As he did Soda muttered silently under his breath so Darry wouldn't hear,

"No it won't."

Johnny got up awhile later. He ate a bowl of cereal like a robot. Take a spoonful, chew, sallow, repeat. He had a blank look on his face the whole time too. He cleaned his bowl when he finished then headed out the door.

"You can stay Johnny, you're no bother to us." Darry said trying to make him stay.

"I know, I'll be back in a little bit, I promise." He said then walked out the door, Darry let him. I followed Johnny. He was heading for his house. 'Oh no! Don't go there Johnny please!' I wanted to cry at him. Going to his house was just asking for it. I never been inside Johnny's house before, I've never really wanted to.

The insdie was more run down than the outside was. The shades were always drawn so it was dark. There was smoke everywhere from his folks' cigarettes, and all the furniture was falling apart. His mom was passed out on the ground with a beer bottle in her hand. His dad was sitting on a chair. He was old, fat and looked mean. As soon as Johnnycake walked in the door he got up and ran over to him.

"Where the hell have you been boys? You haven't been home in days!" He yelled at Johnny pinning him up against the wall. Johnny tried explaining stuttering his words.

"I-I was with my-my friends pop that's all! Th-they need me right now."

"Who gives a shit what they need?" His old man screamed. He threw Johnny on the ground and started kicking him. I always knew Johnny's parents beat him but I've never seen it before. Now that I had, I wish I didn't. It was scarier than a horror movie. I knew why Johnny always wanted to die now. I really wish I could stop this.

'Get the hell away from him!' I yelled. It didn't do any good though.

"Pop stop it! Ponyboy's dead!" Johnny cried.

"Who the fuck is Ponyboy?" His dad said and just kept going.

'Leave him alone!'

His old man finally stopped to catch his breath, as dad Johnny ran into his room, shut the door and put a chair up against it. He cried for a little bit, and rubbed a bruise he now had on his leg. After he calmed down he went into his bedroom table and took something out of a drawer. It was an old rusty pocketknife. What was he gonna do with it?

He slowly rolled up his denim jacket, I noticed a bunch of cuts and scars on his arm I've never seen before. He slowly took the knife to his wrist and make a cut in it. 'No Johnny don't do that!' I cried. I couldn't stand seeing Johnny hurt himself like that. It just wasn't right.

A few moments later there was banging on the door, it was Johnny's old man. Johnny put his sleeve back down, threw the pocketknife on the floor and climbed out his window and ran off.