Shattered

stay gold

"Ponyboy?" I hear someone call. I open my eyes and com face to face with Darry. Why does ut have ro be him. "You're okay ,ponyboy, don't panic, please just take it easy.'" He says softly. I try and sit up so that I can distance myself from him but when I try and move, I find that my whole body hurts. There is no escape. I grunt and lay back down on the ground. I don't remember why my body hurts, but I do remember why my heart hurts. "Don't try and get up yet, you had a bad fall. Just breathe and take it easy. " I roll slowly rub my head, trying desperately to stop the pounding sound that drills through my head. It's like clockwork. boom.... boom.... boom "Where the hell am I?! I was in my apartment! " I shrieked, looking up at Darry who is kneeling next to me. "What are you doing here, did you kidnap me?" I laugh. "Wait no you won't cause you didn't when I was in the group home." Darry looked down sadly. "You're at our house Ponyboy. You know, the one you grew up in?" Darry reminds me gently. I try to keep as much emotion as I can out of my voice, "It's not my house anymore, I have a place of my own. What the hell am I doing here?" "Ponyboy, you've obviously been drinking. You came over here yelling about some girl Lily and then you started cursing me out. I came out to talk to you and you tried to run away from me but you fell. You passed out for a bit. Are you hurt?" He asks, worry filling his familiar cold icy greenish blue eyes. " i wasn't thinking clearly, I never wanted to come here, i hate you and soda." I say angrily. I prop myself up on my arm and start pushing myself upwards. I wince and Darry reaches out to help me but I slap his firm hand away. "Don't, Darry, don't you dare touch me. I don't want your help. You lost the right to worry about me years ago. So you can go to hell." I say and Darry flinches as if I hit him. Like he hit me. He started this. "Ponyboy don't be like this, please . I thought about you every day, I never stopped trying to get in touch with you. Most importantly, I never stopped trying to get you out of that group home. Pony, you gave up on us, don't you dare tell me i didn't try. I pushed myself till i wanted to break because I wanted you home, With us." Darry says that and I feel like I've been punched because I know that, in some ways, he's right. I was the mistake. I let others down. I pick myself up off the ground and wince at the shooting pain in my right ankle, the pain travels through my body. My leg gives out and I know it's going to be a pain to walk on. "Please let me at least give you a ride back, I can tell you're hurt." Darry says quietly, rising to his feet.
"I think I can handle it. I hurt every day for two years in that place. Did they tell you about the nightmares? My anxiety? What about my depression?" I say with a certain bitter resentment. Darry looks pained, "I do know and it killed me not to be there. I wanted to help you but I couldn't! I wasn't allowed to see you! I was unfit to take care of you!" I scream in frustration and tried my hardest to limp away. Darry's truck rolls into the driveway and a pretty woman steps out, her hair fell down her shoulders in a wave of thick black curls, "Darry, I'm back!" She calls.
I can't but help shoot Darry a dirty look. "Or maybe you were busy fucking this girl and enjoying your freedom, People always said that I was the one holding you back from living your life and it looks like they were right. You fucker. Maybe you didn't try hard enough to see me because you were to busy planning your honeymoon. You know what, I'm glad you're happy now. I'm gonna be happy when you drop dead." "Ponyboy, it isn't like that! Please let me explain." He pleads. I feel my depression wrapping around me like a boa that's about to kill it's prey and I know I have to get out of here. I turn and limp out of the gate, each step more painful than the last. I push on and don't stop until I reach the end of the street. Why do I keep running from my problems.

///

After I finally figured out where I was going I head to the lot. Where I felt closest to Johnny. A week after the incident, people forgot his name. If you were to mention the name Johnny Cade in public, people would stare at you like you were insane. I didn't forget him. I would walk down the street with my brothers, and if I felt like talking about him, I would. I don't care who thinks I'm crazy. But that isn't the important part. I knew that he wouldn't be written down in history books. The saddest part of all of it, was how they did remember him. Yeah, they got the hero part right. But people never remembered him. I never once heard about a boy who appreciated golden sunsets, or loved to hear stories. Nobody spoke about Johnny, who sat on a train and looked out for me while I slept on his legs. Or the one who still loved his parents after they beat him inside and out. Everyone would talk about the church fire hero. No one talked about Jonathan " Johnny " Cade. His gravestone says hero. Soon after his death, the police went and inspected his house, and figured out that it was an unstable living environment. Them saying that made me sick. I wanted to scream at them, that it was to late for that.... but I kept my mouth shut. The social workers decided that his body no longer belonged to his father, and that it belonged to the state. And the state put the word hero on his grave. I never go and visit the cemetery where he's buried. I know he isn't there. Johnny is at the vacant lot, or cinema at the very least. But I like to believe he's in the country, smiling at bright sunset with dally by his side, holding his tender hand. It's not like I'mholding onto the past. I'm not in denial about his death. It's just....his body is in the grave.... but he isn't. Maybe I'm crazy. if I am; I don't care. As long as I live, I will remember Johnny cade as he was his entire life. When he was 11 years old, and slept over at my house, I will always remember him telling me for the first time that his parents beat him and how he cried in his sleep. I'll always remember him, when he was 13 and we were racing and I fell and broke my ankle, how he wrapped his slender arms around me and helped me home. I'll never forget how when my parents died, and I needed to get out of the house to get my mind off of things, I went to the vacant lot and Johnny held me as I cried. I don't care what they say. They aren't going to make me forget. They say that all he is was a greaser who decided one day to leave his life of crime and save a few kids. I'll remember him being wonderful from the beginning. Oh, god. My best friend. As I made my way throughthe vacant lot, I stop at a hug tree on the outskirts. That was where Johnny and I fell asleep the night before we ran away. I laugh a bit, smiling at the memories of him. His grave is only a quarter mile away, but I felt closest to Johnny here. From my back pocket, I take out a switchblade. I don't carry one or anything. I just brought this one for the occasion. sighing, I put the blade to the tree, trying not to make the letters to big or to deep. He wouldn't have needed something huge or noticeable. Gently, feeling less remorse as I went on, I carved into the tree. 'Johnny cade, born gold, died gold'