Scars | Johnny Cade Fanfic

37 - Blame

Triggers: Swearing

Just Johnny having internal problems, don't mind me <3

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Johnny's POV 

Monday, February 17; 3:13 p.m

The next couple of days were a blur. I shifted in and out of sleep each night, which eventually gave me big dark circles underneath my eyes. I was exhausted, and every single time I told myself I wasn't, my headache would only get worse.

I felt sick.

Pony had to sleep in Darry's room so he wouldn't wake me up, and Sodapop insisted on sleeping on the couch. I felt like a burden that way.

Once I woke up, I glanced up at the ceiling in Ponyboy's bed listening to the birds chirping. Listening to the cars, and how the driver went on about their business, not having a clue about what was going on in my life. It seemed like the world kept going. It kept going when my life was at its lowest point. And it made me feel like no one cared- no one understood how I felt.

I clutched onto Tru's pillow. I had been sleeping with it since the hospital, and her scent was barely there anymore. I felt... stuck. Like I couldn't wake up from this nightmare.

I finally got up out of the bed, making my way slowly over to the kitchen down the hallway. It was a long hallway. I hadn't really noticed it until now. I knew I had the whole house to myself since Ponyboy was at school, and the other two went to work.

I aimlessly wandered the house until I found the kitchen. I was exhausted, but also hungry. Usually I wouldn't look through their icebox without permission, but my mind wasn't on that right now. It was still on Tru. It was always on Tru.

I tried not to think about the possibilities, I really did. I just didn't want to believe it. I didn't want to believe the fact that she might...

I shook the thought away as I quickly grabbed the chocolate milk out of the icebox and closed the door. My mind was empty and that headache was growing on top of it all.

"What the fuck is on my hand?!"

I put the milk down on the counter, shutting my eyes closed tight, trying to dismiss that repeating voice. The beeping of the heart machine started to echo through my mind, and I immediately clutched the counter edge so hard my knuckles turned white. I was breathing hard.

"Hello?"

At first I couldn't tell the difference between reality and the voices in my head, but it all started to clear up once that familiar voice came in. I snapped my head behind me, turning my attention towards a seventeen year old boy standing in the middle of the front door.

"H-Hey, man." He slurred, furrowing his eyebrows. His dark brown hair was in a mess, as he carried dark circles under his eyes like mine. The boy flung himself onto the living room couch and propped his feet up on the coffee table. An alcohol stench filled the air once he walked in, immediately bringing me back to Saturday night. "How... How's it going?"

I stood there dumbfounded, waiting for him to say something else as I slowly approached the living room. He didn't talk and just laid there with a beer bottle in one hand.

My eyes thoroughly examined him in his condition. His clothes were the exact same from the last time I saw him, and his eyes were ice cold. He was in that dangerous mood. Immediately once I locked eyes with him, the anger from that night came back to me.

Emotions passed by me so fast, I could barely recognize them all. Whatever they were- confused, frustrated, hurt- I still felt enraged. My hands curled into fists, and my breathing became irregular. I couldn't put it into words on how I was feeling. Dallas wouldn't even look at me.