Here's a longer chapter as promised!
TW: this chapter contains abuse and violence.
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That night in bed, I was staring at the ceiling in the dark, taking in the various noises of the night through my open window. I heard the dogs barking, the cars rolling by, the laughter of a group of kids walking down the sidewalk. It wasn't long until I found myself drifting into sleep, into another memory.
It was the day after Jonathan had hit me. The boys talked me through my fears of breaking up with him, and I finally felt brave enough to do it.
I walked to the lot where he often hung out and I found him drinking. I wasn't surprised.
I took a deep breath and went over to him. He was alone, cutting away at a stick with his switchblade. It was about 6 inches long and had a red handle. A red wooden handle. I remember it to this day.
He saw me coming and his eyes lit up. He flicked the now-sharpened stick on the ground and met me in the middle by a makeshift fireplace, knife still open and in hand.
"Hey, baby," he said, tracing my face with his finger.
I shoved it away angrily. "Don't call me that!" I snapped.
He seemed shocked. "What do you mean?"
I glared at him, trying to look brave although I was scared to death. "We're done. I don't want a call from you, I don't want you to come up to me on the street, and I don't want to see you ever again!"
When he said nothing, I repeated myself. "We're done. We're over." I paused. "Goodbye, Jonathan." I turned to walk away, thankful that it didn't end in my getting hurt, but I had counted my chickens too early.
He grabbed my wrist and pulled me back. "Don't do this to me, Cary! I need you!"
"Well, you should've thought about that before you hit me last night! And the night before that! And all of the other times you hurt me. How many times? I don't know, I lost count. All I know is that it ends today. We're done."
His eyes filled with rage again, the same rage from the night before.
I wrestled my arm away from his grasp when he said, "So this is it, huh? You're just leaving me, and we're through?"
"You're exactly right."
He clenched his jaw and I saw his grip around his knife tighten.
Then he raised it and swung it at me.
I put my hands in front of my face and I felt the cold metal pierce the palm of my hand. It was a thick gash, maybe about three inches long, almost cutting into my wrist. I looked at it, shaking.
"You...you cut me, Jonathan," I said quietly, in disbelief. I never thought he would go this far. "You cut me."
The tip of his blade was covered in my blood. He looked from it and then my hand in shock.
"You cut me!" I repeated, this time louder.
I turned and ran home.
"Cary, wait!" He yelled. "Come back! I didn't mean to!"
He kept on yelling at me, begging me to come back until I ran through the door of my house.
All of the boys, including the rest of the gang, were inside. As soon as I walked in, I felt my knees give out and I fell against the wall, crying hysterically, clutching my hand, blood running through my fingers. I wasn't crying because it hurt, I was crying because I was scared.
Then suddenly I was sitting on the couch, Darry wrapping my hand in gauze and the rest of the boys surrounding me while I choked out the story. "I thought he was going to kill me!" Then, more quietly, I said something I had hoped wasn't true, "He was trying to kill me. He was so mad. He tried to kill me..."
The whole gang was furious. Steve cursed under his breath and I saw Dally's face get red with anger.
Then Soda wrapped me in a hug and I cried into his chest. "It's okay, Cary," he said, "he ain't gonna hurt you no more." He pet my hair while I cried.
That day, I made myself a promise to never again let a guy touch me like that and get away with it.
I woke up with a start, panicked. I quickly sat up in my bed and looked out the window. It was still dark outside, so I lay back down and try to go back to sleep.
But I couldn't. I kept replaying that moment over and over again in my head and I couldn't get it out. You stabbed me, Jonathan! My words played like a broken record in my mind.
I angrily threw my blankets off of me and went to the kitchen. I was the only one awake, as expected. I looked at the clock above the dining table and saw 2:17.
I poured myself a glass of water and stared out the window above the sink as I drank it. There was a streetlight hovering above the sidewalk, glinting off of our chainlink fence. I didn't hear the same sounds I heard before I fell asleep, but I would hear the occasional car drive by and, of course, the train.
It made me think of the movie Pony and I went to see the day before. It was a Western with John Wayne and another Hollywood blonde-haired, blue-eyed, perfect beauty. There was a scene in the movie involving a train. A train heist, to be more specific.
I didn't particularly like the movie. I only went to be with Pony. It seems that ever since school started back up and I started working again, we had less and less time to hang out together and I wanted to take every chance I could.
I thought about how life would be different if Mom and Dad hadn't died. Darry would probably be off to college on some athletic scholarship and Soda may still be in school. Pony and I would have stayed the same, probably, with the exception of the peace of mind of knowing that our family was going to be okay.
Pony and Darry's fights were becoming more and more frequent, and they were all the same: "Pony, get your grades up." "Why am I not good enough for you?" "Why don't you ever think?" "You treat me like a kid!"
Then I thought about the rest of the gang. Most of them were missing one or both of their parents, and those who weren't hated their guts, except for Two-Bit. We were the only family that had a truly united family until about eight months ago, when the car wreck happened.
Two-Bit is doing okay I suppose. His dad ran off a while ago and left his mother alone with two kids, so he rarely gets to see her anymore because she's always working.
Steve's mom died when he was a kid, and his dad is a loony drunk who hates his guts and kicked him out often. If it wasn't for Soda and the gang, I knew he would have run away ages ago. And I know that his dad wouldn't have cared.
Johnny's home life was almost unlivable. His parents were fighting all the time about God knows what, and when his dad was drunk, he would beat him real bad. It was almost daily I would find a new bruise or cut on him, which I wold usually treat the best I could.
I never knew Dally's parents. All I know is that his dad doesn't care about him and abandoned him on the streets, hence why Dal was in jail at only 10 years old.
It wasn't uncommon to find one of them passed out on the couch one night. Our house was one of the only safe spaces they knew, and we always left the door unlocked in case something happened. So I was surprised when nobody was there. I shrugged it off and knew there would be someone there in the morning.
I finished my water and went back to my room. I still couldn't sleep, so went to my desk and started on my homework.
I had been studying for about an hour when I heard my door open. Pony walked in and closed it behind him.
"Hey, Pone," I say.
"Hey," he said, sitting down on my bed. He chuckled. "Homework at 3 in the morning?"
I laughed quietly so to not wake up Soda and Darry. "I couldn't sleep."
"Me neither."
I looked at him. He looked exhausted and slightly frightened. "What are you doing up?"
His face turned solemn. "I had that nightmare again. The one about Mom and Dad that scares me to death but I never know what happens in it." My desk light glinted off of his eyes and I saw they were shiny with tears. "I miss them."
I got out of my chair and went to sit by him. He leaned into me and I pulled him in a hug. He hugged me back and started crying harder. "I miss them, too."
He didn't say anything back, just sobbed into the crook of my shoulder while I combed through his long hair with my fingers, trying to be as gentle as possible.
When he looked back up, a piece of his hair fell into his eyes, which I gently pushed behind his ear. I hated seeing Pony cry.
"I love you, Pony." I kissed his forehead and ran my fingers through his hair again. It was soft and silky, not greasy, so he must have taken a shower before bed.
"I just don't understand why Darry hates me so much."
"He doesn't hate you."
"He does! He can't stand me! He yells at me all the time. Why doesn't he nag at you two any?" Then, as if apologizing, he says, "No offense."
I smiled at him sadly. "He's hard on you because he loves you. He know the potential you have."
"Shoot, you have ten times the potential I do."
I grabbed the sides of his face with both of my hands and made him look up at me. "Listen to me, Pony. Don't go comparing yourself to me. Or Soda. Or anyone. You just being you is enough."
His eyes were brimmed with tears of genuine sadness. "Not for Darry." It hurt to see him like this.
"He's real proud of you, I promise. He just...he has a lot more things to worry about ever since Mom and Dad died. He's really stressed out."
"It doesn't feel like he's proud of me."
"I know, but he is." I turned his head to look at me again. "You trust me right?"
He swallowed and nodded. "I guess."
I pulled him in for another hug and this time, when he hugged me back, he squeezed tight. I hadn't seen him like this in a while. I guess he was trying to hold in all of his feelings and he just couldn't anymore.
"Do you want to sleep in here tonight?" I ask.
He pulls away and thinks for a minute, then nods.
"Alright, come on."
I got up and turned off the desk light and slipped under the blankets. He snuggled close to me and I held him. I ran my fingers through his hair again in hopes to get him falling asleep faster, and about five minutes later I heard his breathing steady. I kissed the top of his head again and held him the rest of the night. Sure, he may be 14, but he was my kid brother.
No, he wasn't just my kid brother, he was my little brother. And I would do anything for my little brother.
~
I woke up again around 6, but I was still tired. I couldn't go back to sleep for some reason, so I decided to just get up and get dressed. Hopefully, I would be more awake by then. Pony was still asleep, so I brought my clothes to the bathroom, took a shower, and changed there.
I was the first one up again, so I decided to make coffee and breakfast. When I opened the icebox, though, I suddenly felt sick at the sight of eggs. We had eaten them every morning for what seemed like weeks, and I was growing tired of them.
I rummaged through a cabinet until I found one of Mom's old cookbooks and flipped through to find something else to make. There were so many options, but I settled on pancakes. They seemed easy enough, and I wasn't up for an extravagant breakfast. I cooked about fifteen of them, knowing that the rest of the gang would be coming later and would want some. By the time I was done, it was seven o'clock. Everybody was still asleep.
I ate my pancakes, thinking of what I was going to do today since it was my day off. My brain was once again flooded with thoughts of Jonathan and—for some odd reason—an unrelenting pang of guilt. I needed to clear my head. So, once I finished my food, I wrote a note on a notepad and left it on the dinner table: Going to grocery store, needed to clear my head. Breakfast is ready. Be back soon.
I crept back into my room and grabbed my purse and a sweater. Pony was still dead asleep. I smiled and kissed his head before leaving and quietly shut the door behind me.
I took Darry's truck. The grocery store was a ways away and I didn't feel like walking for two hours there and back. I knew he wouldn't mind, I would be back before he and Soda needed to leave for work.
I didn't write a list before leaving, even though our icebox was looking pitifully empty and there was plenty we needed. I decided to just go to the store and wing it, praying I had enough money in my wallet for everything.
It was a brisk morning and the sun had just come over the horizon. It was weird being up this early. The town was still quiet, and it was oddly peaceful. The only people awake were middle-aged adults on their way to the office in their sharply ironed suits or business-casual skirts and blouses. There was a light film of delicate dew over all of the grass so that every acre shimmered in the morning sunlight. I rolled down the window as I drove and breathed in the quiet air—it smelled of upcoming fall and wet leaves, a simultaneously pleasant and repulsive smell.
I ended up driving toward the lot and saw someone laying next to a makeshift fire pit underneath some newspapers. I shrugged it off but had this feeling that they looked familiar. I looked closer and realized it was Johnny.
I parked the truck and walked towards him. He was shivering like crazy even though he was wearing a jacket.
I shook him awake. "Johnny, wake up." When he just groaned, I shook him again. "Come on, Johnny, you're gonna freeze to death out here."
I saw his eyes flutter open and he looked confused when he saw me. "Cary? What are you doing out here?"
"I should ask you the same thing," I said, cocking an eyebrow in concern.
He sat up and shivered again. I helped him up and said, "Come on, come get in the truck. I'll take you to our place to warm up." He just nodded and followed me.
When we got inside, he asked "Why are you using the truck so early?"
"I was going to the grocery store. I, uh..." I was debating whether to tell him about Jonathan, "I just needed to clear my head, if you know what I mean." He nodded again. "And what on earth were you doing sleeping outside in the cold? You're lucky I found you, or else you would have died of hypothermia."
"My parents were fighting when I came home last night. I wasn't too keen on gettin' a beating."
I sighed. "Next time, just come to our house. That way we at least know you're safe."
"Yeah, yeah, alright. You worry about me too much."
"Well, somebody's got to,"
He just smiled as he looked out the window. He was quiet for a few moments before saying, "Why don't I come to the store with you?"
I shook my head. "I think it would be better if you just went to our place. You're still shaking like a leaf."
He didn't object, just laughed through his chattering teeth and rubbed his arms.
I pulled up to our house and he got out. "Breakfast is on the table, coffee's already made," I said through the open window and he nodded, "and get yourself warm!" I commanded before he went inside and I drove off.
When I got to the grocery store, I ended up not getting as much stuff as I originally thought I would—just a gallon of milk, another carton of eggs, some ingredients for chocolate cake, and some cheese. I debated getting beer for Two-Bit but realized I was way too young to be buying alcohol and looked it too. Plus, I didn't want to feed into his addiction.
I was in the produce aisle when I saw him there. He was stuffing something in his pockets when I walked up to him. Typical Two-Bit. "Morning, Keith," I said. He turned around to see me, surprised.
"Well, hey, morning bird. What in the world are you doing grocery shopping this early?"
I looked at what he was holding—some sort of candy. I was honestly surprised it wasn't cigarettes or whiskey. I looked at him and rolled my eyes, taking the candy out of his hands and placing it in my basket.
"What are you doing?" He asked as if offended.
"Paying for it," I shot back at him, laughing, "like you're supposed to do."
"You're no fun," he huffed, shoving his fists into his pockets.
He and Dally were weird like that—they enjoyed stealing, like they got some sort of rush from it. I would never understand them, but I loved them nonetheless. They were like my brothers.
He ended up getting in the truck and going home with me. I tossed him the bag with his candy in it and laughed as he practically tore it open. "Don't eat too much of that," I warned, "I made breakfast back home."
He just waved me off and shoved a handful into his mouth.
By the time we got home, it was almost eight o'clock. Darry, at the very least, should be up by now. When we walked into the house with our arms full of paper bags, all three of the boys were sitting at the table with Johnny eating pancakes. Steve had shown up at some point and was laying on the couch. Dally wasn't there.
"About time you showed up, Cary. You had me worried sick." Darry said as we both walked into the kitchen and placed down the bags.
"I left you a note," I said.
"Yeah, but you were alone."
"Nah, man, I was with her," Two-Bit said as he lightly punched Darry's shoulders, "don't worry too much, old man. You'll start gettin' some gray hairs." He smirked and Darry couldn't resist but roll his eyes and give him a small smile.
"These are really good, Cary," Sodapop said, shoving a forkful of pancake into his mouth, "what recipe did you use?"
I shrugged. "It was in one of Mom's old cookbooks."
He went quiet for a little bit while I went to the kitchen to put away the groceries, listening to the guys wrestle and holler in the other room.
I shake my head and smile, letting out a small laugh. They're crazy, absolutely insane, but I love them like my brothers. I finished putting away the groceries as I heard Soda and Steve get into an arm-wrestling match.
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Sorry this took so long to get out. Writers block is no fun :(.
Love y'all. Stay gold.