Chapter Text
I'm sitting on the floor in the dark of me and Soda's room and I don't know how long I've been staring into the dark. I do know that I feel sick and if I close my eyes I see Johnny.
I slam my fist against my thighs once more to stop thinking about him. I can't think about him. My thighs sting with bruises under the cloth of whatever I put on this morning. I think Darry would be mad if he found out, he'd think I wa hurting myself or something. But it's not like that, I swear it ain't. If I was really gonna hurt myself I'd do worse then make a few bruises...right?
Regardless, the stinging pain relaxes me a bit. I feel a bit better—even though I'm still thinking about Johnny.
I can never seem to stop thinking about Johnny. When I put cigarettes out on my arm I think about how Johnny would hate that. When I get high with groups I barely know I think about how Johnny would tell me how bad that was. Whenever I breathed. I thought of Johnny.
Sometimes Dallas plagued my thoughts as well. I thought about the things he'd say if he say me like this; sitting on the floor crying with bruises sprinkled on my thighs. I thought about how he'd give me an earful whenever I got high or put those damned cigarettes out on myself again.
Sometimes though, I just thought about them. I thought about that last happy day. Right before I ruined everything. When we were all laughing and having fun.
Most of all I just imagined life if they were still alive. I'd talk to myself for hours pretending Johnny was listening. I'd go to Buck's [which I'd never tell anyone I was doing] and pretend I was waiting for Dally to come back. Or I'd go into the living room late at night and pretend they were both there sleeping peacefully.
I guess, in a way, they both were sleeping. Though, if there was any afterlife, I assume neither are in any peace.
I heard Soda call out my name. A whisper in the dark. And for a moment I stopped my quiet sobbing.
This was something I could rely on. Even on the worst nights, when the cold was bitter and the dark had teeth, I knew Soda would be there.
And I guess that was all I needed to be okay. Because I will be okay.
I don't say anything as I crawl back into the warm space I left behind. I don't say anything when I curl up next to Soda and start to cry. And Soda doesn't say anything as he holds me close.
And for a moment, I don't pretend that Johnny's sleeping on our couch right down the hall. And I don't pretend Dally is just getting drunk again. And I don't pretend that anything I've been doing is okay.
I fall asleep like that, after tiring myself out with tears. And when I sleep, it's okay. I don't dream about Johnny or Dally or my parents. I just sleep.