A/N: WHO MISSED ME?! I am officially back to writing after an absence of almost a year! I hope you enjoy this new story! This new story is vaguely inspired by the hit Netflix show Stranger Things, so if you notice some vague similarities, now you know! Please leave a review letting me know what you think! Belle x

XxX

November 9, 1965

Everything is all set, the man thought in contentment as he admired his work. A grim smile peaked on his face as he started up the steps to the ground floor. Everything was ready.

All he needed was the boy.

XxX

"You were scared."

"Was NOT."

"Oh, 'cause you soooo did not squeal like a little girl!"

"Did NOT."

Ponyboy, Two-Bit and Steve were walking home from the drive-in, and Two-Bit and Steve had made it their mission to make Ponyboy admit he had been scared of the movie they had just seen. Darry and Sodapop were both working late, and Darry had put the two older boys on "baby-sitting duties". At least, that's what Two-Bit called it. Said boy's car had broken down (again), so they'd just walked to the Nightly Double. Once there, Steve had insisted on seeing "The Beach Girls and the Monster", some kind of low-budget horror flick that was playing on the side where the opening in the fence allowed them to sneak in. Two-Bit had rolled along, since anything with the word "Girls" in it sounded good to him and Ponyboy had agreed, not wanting to admit to Steve that he hated horror flicks. It was almost half past eight when the movie was over. Usually, the greasers would have slipped into the second screening, but it was a school night, and Darry would positively skin them if Ponyboy was not home when he got out of work. So the boys strolled along the sidewalk, as slowly as they could, kicking rocks with their beat-up sneakers as they went. It took them a good thirty minutes to reach Steve's place, their first stop on the way home.

"You going to school tomorrow, Stevie?" Two-Bit called as they parted ways.

"Might as well. Got nothing better to do," Steve replied.

"See you tomorrow then!" Two-Bit called again. "Sweet dreams, my lady!"

"Kiss your Mom 'night for me!" Steve called back smartly as the screen door slammed shut behind him. Two-Bit turned to the smaller boy next to him.

"Race you back to my place?" he challenged him. Ponyboy smirked. Two-Bit could be so brainless sometimes. He was a track champion, after all. Ponyboy bolted before Two-Bit could do anything.

"Hey! I didn't say go!" Two-Bit called, struggling to catch up as the young cheetah turned the corner in front of him. "Get back here or I'll kill you!" he shouted, but by the time Two-Bit stopped in front of his driveway, completely out of breath, Ponyboy was already a small, dark figure at the end of the road.

"Son of a bitch!" Two-Bit shouted at him.

"See you tomorrow, Two-Bit!" Ponyboy shouted back joyfully, his voice echoing in the darkness of the night before he disappeared left toward the Curtis house. Two-Bit shook his head and couldn't help but laugh as he started up the driveway to his house. Through the window up front, he could see Kathy, plopped unceremoniously on the couch, the light of the television casting strange shadows on his sister's face. He didn't notice the Mustang that drove behind his back in the street and took the same, exact left turn that Ponyboy had taken.

XxX

Ponyboy had slowed down to a walk as he struggled to regain his breath. He really, really had to quit smoking, he thought to himself as he reached for a cigarette in the pack he carried in his back pocket. He was still a bit shaken by the movie, nothing a good smoke wouldn't handle. He reached for his lighter and held it up to the stick in his mouth until the tip of it began glowing. He let out a sigh of relief, smoke escaping through his lips at the same time. He was stuffing his lighter back into his pocket when he heard the sound of a car, turning the corner. He looked over his shoulder, but the headlights prevented him from seeing what type of car it was. He had taken about ten more steps before he realized something was up. The car was driving really slow, at least twenty miles under the speed limit. He looked back once more, and as the car grew closer and closer, he saw clearly the galloping silver horse just above the car's bumper. His heart picked up the pace, as he realized this car definitely didn't belong anywhere in this neighborhood. He turned back around as casually as possible, but began to walk a little faster. The car picked up the speed as well. He was being followed. He forced himself to stay calm as a million scenarios rushed into his head. His home was barely a block away. If he ran fast enough, he could make it. Darry and Sodapop were probably home by this time. There was always the risk that the car would cut in front of him, but he had to try it. He looked behind his shoulder, and through the dashboard, he was able to see the vague shape of a large man behind the steering wheel. He stood no chance against a man this size. Without warning, he turned around and started running as fast as he could. He heard the car behind him picking up speed as well but he dared not to look back.

He reached the fence in front of his house within thirty seconds, the Mustang hot on his heels. Sodapop and Darry were not home yet. He had barely made it through the fence that the man had gotten out of his car, jumped over the hood with surprising agility and was now running behind the greaser. Ponyboy climbed the steps to the front porch, yanked the door open, but the man stopped the door before Ponyboy could close it behind him and lock himself to safety. He pushed on the door with all his might, but the man was stronger. In his panic, the thought of his father's shotgun dawned on him. His father always kept a gun in his bedside table in case he needed to fight off an intruder. He never loaded it, but he sure could bluff his way out of situations. It was Ponyboy's last hope. He let go of the door and the man came crashing through, the door slamming roughly on the wall behind him. Before the man could get back on his feet again, Ponyboy had darted across the hall and into his parents's room. He yanked the first drawer of the bedside table, and reached for the black shotgun, his hands trembling with adrenaline. He had no time to look for bullets. He was just going to have to bluff it. As the man entered the room, Ponyboy flipped around and held the gun at arm's length, hoping the man wouldn't notice his clumsiness with a firearm and his trembling hands.

"St-stay back!" he stuttered in what was meant to be a threat, but his voice broke in the middle of the sentence.

The man stopped in his tracks, but didn't look bothered by the gun in the slightest. He smiled.

"You're not gonna shoot me," the man said calmly.

"What makes you so sure?" Ponyboy asked, the gun sliding slowly through his sweaty palms.

"Because the gun is not loaded," the man replied in a matter-of-fact tone. Ponyboy shivered.

"Y-yes it is," he replied, but his voice had threatened him. The man smirked, he reached for his side and took out a silver shotgun of his own.

"This one, however, is loaded," he added calmly as he raised the barrel. "So if you want to stay alive, I suggest you drop your little act right now and do as I say."

Ponyboy felt his courage falter, but he refused to go down without a fight.

"I don't believe you," he said, his voice faltering as he said it.

The man smiled grimly. He pulled the trigger and a bullet went flying out with a deafening explosion. Ponyboy cringed as the bullet flew right next to his ear and lodged itself into the wall behind him. The man casually re-loaded the gun and pointed it back toward the boy.

"Drop the gun," he stated firmly.

The little courage Ponyboy had left in him had evaporated. He let his father's gun drop to his feet with a loud thud. The man crossed the room in two strides, kicked the gun away and yanked the boy by an arm. He planted the barrel of his gun in Ponyboy's side.

"Walk," he ordered in the boy's ear, his breath making Ponyboy's skin crawl.

Somehow, Ponyboy's legs held on as he took one step forward, then another. He awkwardly shuffled back through the house, out the door, which the man carefully closed behind him. They made it back to the man's car like that, and as he reached the backseat, Ponyboy felt the cool metal of the gun leave his side. He let out a small breath he didn't know he had been holding, but the relief was short-lived. He felt the hard, painful blow to his head as the man slammed the barrel of his gun into Ponyboy's scalp. That was the last thing he remembered before his knees gave out under him and he fell into an unwelcome darkness.