The Outsiders Oneshots

7 : wish - sad

AGES:
JOHNNY - 17 (RIP..)
PONYBOY - 16
PONYBOY'S POV

--

I looked to my side, realizing he wasn't there. Maybe it's for the better. Sometimes I just act dumb and pretend to think that he ran away, and we just lost contact. Darry is starting to get worried about me. I don't mind. I don't care. Sometimes I wish I lived alone, so I could do whatever I wanted to without getting yelled at for it. I hated my life.

It kind of feels awkward around everyone, but no one seems to even care. Sometimes I'd catch Soda staring at me, with such a weird look displayed on his face. I don't blame him, though. I've changed a lot. Too much, I think. It hurts me more than he thinks. Soda didn't and doesn't care about Johnny. He never did. He can't blame me for being upset.

The last full meal I had was a week ago. I'm not hungry, so why eat? Darry is starting to say that he's gonna bring me to the doctors, but I feel fine. He's overreacting. I'm fine. I don't need his help - he wasn't there for me then, he isn't there for me now.

"Eat your food, Ponyboy."
"I'm not hungry."
"Don't make me say it again, boy. Eat your goddamn food!"
"I said I'm not hungry!"

That was a conversation we'd have every day, no matter what. Soda would leave the house. I don't care where he goes. I've lost everything. It doesn't matter anymore. I barely even go to school - I can't focus. I know I did good in school, but I've changed. I always wanted to be an author, but now? I don't care where I end up. It doesn't really matter, anyway - I'll always be the hood who helped a boy with murder. If we hadn't gone to the drive-in that night, I would've never thought of any of this. Maybe it's my fault for agreeing to go. It's my fault Johnny and Dally are dead. Everything has always been my fault.

"Ponyboy, we're bringing you to the doctor tomorrow at four."
"Don't bother," I said bitterly, looking anywhere other than Soda.
"No, god damnit, we're tired of you acting like this. We're getting you help."
"I don't need help, I'm fine. Thanks anyway."
"You're going."
My brain was just on autopilot - I wasn't going to obey anyone.
"No, I'm not."
".. What are we going to do with you?"

Those words made me want to break my neck.