Sorry for the wait, but here it is. Final chapter! Very long. I know I could have devided it into two, but I think it's better not to. I hope you enjoy!

Deceiver

Chapter 14 - The dissolution

Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1966

Alone. Darkness.

A sound.

Someone whispers my name. "Ponyboy..."

I think it's Mom. It's her voice. It feels like years since I last heard it. I turn my head.

"Mom?"

"Ponyboy!"

I can't find her. It's too dark. I don't know where I am, and the voice comes from everywhere. "Where are you? Mom?"

I have something in my hand. It's a switch blade. I feel its cold, its weight. Perfect in my hand. A part of me, an extension of my arm. I can't let go of my hold.

It's bright, suddenly. I stand in a bathroom. I feel something sticky under my feet, and when I look down, the floor is covered with red. I want to scream, but no sound comes out. My heart thuds in my chest, and I know what I will see if I look up. I don't want to, but I must.

She lies in the bathtub, her eyes sad. She reaches out a hand. It's twisted. Dirty with soil and blood.

"Ponyboy," Mom says. "You killed her. You killed me."

I take a step back. No!

I turn around to run. There is no door, but all the walls are covered with mirrors. In all of them I see Henry.

"In prison, Ponyboy," he whispers, "no one will save you."

xXx

Strong arms hold me, a soothing voice tries to comfort me. A hand is touching my forehead, and I feel a glass against my lower lip.

"Come on, Pony, drink some," Darry says, almost pleading.

My throat really hurts. I take a small sip of the cold water, cough as it goes down the wrong way. Darry pats my back.

"It's okay now," Soda soothes.

"Did I scream?" I ask, hoarsely and a bit dizzy. Darry places the glass in my hand, and I raise it to gulp down some more.

"Yeah," Soda admits. "Don't think about it."

"Sorry I woke you up," I say miserable.

"Hey, none of that, Pony." Soda keeps his arms around me. I drink the rest of the water, and then Darry rises to place the glass on the nightstand.

"Try to get some more sleep, okay? It's a long day tomorrow."

I don't want to think about tomorrow. I know what will happen then.

Darry speaks to Soda for a while, but I don't listen to a word of what they're saying, and then he suddenly puts his hand on my head for a short moment, before he walks out and closes the door behind him. Soda tugs at me to lie down, and I do.

"What was it about?" he whispers gentle when we have snuggled in.

"Huh?"

"The nightmare. Was it about-" he stops himself.

"Yeah," I say. I don't want to talk about it. It was so scary to see Mom. I want to remember her alive, happy and golden, not bloody and dirty and dead. But when I close my eyes now, I see her as I saw her in my dream. It's not fair.

I rub my eyes, grit my teeth when the wound on my arm stings. Soda must have noticed.

"Your arm okay?"

"It's fine," I lie. "Just hurts a little bit."

"Don't worry 'bout tomorrow, okay?" Soda mumbles, but I hear that he's worrying too.

xXx

We're just having breakfast when there's a knock on our door. I drop my sandwich, and Soda frowns. First the three of us sit completely still, like we don't know what to do, but then Darry rises, mutters something inaudible and disappears from the kitchen.

I look at Soda, but he avoids my eyes, staring at his plate, and I know who he thinks it is. A lump forms in my throat.

I hear the squeak from the front door, and Mrs. Garcia's voice reaches us from outside, and then I can't eat anymore. Butterflies has a war in my stomach.

"Ponyboy? Sodapop?" Darry sticks his head into the kitchen again. "Are you finished?"

I can say no. Delay it for a couple of minutes. But what does it matter? I have to face it, sooner or later. So I throw a last glance at my food, and then I nod. Soda is up on his feet too, and we walk into the living room like we're walking to our death row.

Maybe we are.

xXx

The silence is not comfortable. I hold my arms tight around my body, hugging myself, and Soda has his arm wrapped around my shoulders, as usual. I have just told my story to our social worker. I didn't tell her all of it, though. Not even my brothers know all that happened, and I want it to stay that way. Some things are too hard to talk about, and they will just feel even worse if they know. They can't change things anyway, so what's the point of them knowing?

Mrs. Garcia looks a bit shocked, but I can see that she tries to rearrange her face to look professional again. She opens her mouth to say something, but then she seems to change her mind.

"Well," she finally starts, glances at Darry. "Well, uh... did you see the doctor about his arm?"

"I know first aid," Darry says firmly.

Mrs. Garcia looks dissatisfied. "Yes, but don't you think it's better a doctor would look at it?"

Darry is quiet for a while. I know that he hates it when people tell him what to do. But he can't argue too much with the social services. "Right," he says, a bit defeated. "I'll get him an appointment."

"And the police?"

"We're heading there as soon as possible."

"We can help him with an attorney."

If it's possible, the silence after that gets even more quiet than the silence before. Darry throws a glance at me and Soda, then back at Mrs. Garcia.

"We," he says, and he's trying hard not to snort, I can tell. "You mean the state."

"Yes, of course. I'm thinking of what's best for Ponyboy. It's my job."

I stare at the scene before me. I can see how Darry stiffens. I wonder what she means, if they only will help me with an attorney if they are my guardians? Is she trying to buy me? Maybe she thinks Darry will hand me over, just like that.

"I'm thinking of what's best for Pony. It's my job." Darry crosses his arms.

"Are you sure you can keep him safe?" Mrs. Garcia still sounds nice, but it is an accusation.

This is not happening. It's not. I close my eyes, lean myself against Soda. His grip around me tightens.

"We were at work when it happened," Darry says hoarsely. "But it won't happen again."

"Exactly," Mrs Garcia nods. "But in a boys home he would have staff around him every minute. He wouldn't be alone."

"I can take care of him!"

"I know that, Darrel. I just suggest that until this is over, the state will take over the custody. For Ponyboy's safety."

"Until what is over?" Soda suddenly wonders. He sounds angry. With my ear pressed against his chest, I hear how his voice buzzes inside him. "It's not somethin' that can be over. It happened, and Pony needs us now. His brothers and friends. Not some fu... strangers!"

Mrs. Garcia doesn't lose her temper. She just looks at him, calmly. "I understand that you feel this way, Sodapop. But this is more than some teenaged boys can handle. You have been through a lot the past months, and I just want to help you."

"Darry's twenty," Soda glares. "He's a fine guardian."

Our social worker smiles. "I know he is." She turns to Darry again. "I think we should talk to the police, and then continue this conversation at my office."

We have no choice. I cling to Soda as we head for the door and our truck. I don't want to go. I'm afraid I never will see our house again.

xXx

The police station looks nothing like I have imagined it. We sit in a cozy office, with green plants and no bars on the windows at all. There are no handcuffs, no yelling, no accusations thrown in my face. My brothers are with me, and Mrs. Garcia, and some other man with a black mustache and suit.

The policemen are nice, there are two of them, but they ask a lot of questions, and sometimes I get really confused. They ask the same questions multiple times, just change them a bit for each time, and I guess they're just testing me if I remember everything right.

But it's not that hard. I remember clearly.

There are questions about Henry, about Sarah, why did I leave with her? What did she say? What did Johnny say? Do I remember the car? The way we rode?

There are questions about what happened when we came to the apartment. I blush when I tell them where she kicked me. My brothers almost look ready to kill, but I try to avoid looking at them. I start to feel warm, almost feverish. I wipe the sweat off my forehead with my arm, blink a couple of time. I feel tired and dizzy.

There are questions about the switch blade, what I felt, if I was scared, where they hit me, what they said, where Henry is now. I tell them about Sarah. I almost have to whisper, force the words out.

Then they start to ask questions about our parents, and my dreams and what happened when I was little, and I talk and talk and talk, but I don't listen so much to what I'm saying. I just want it to be over.

It almost feels that it's not me talking. I wonder if I screw it up, say the wrong things, and I start to be sure they will throw me away. Soon someone will grab me, force my hands behind my back, lock them with handcuffs and then I'll go straight to prison. I'm so, so scared.

Someone puts a glass of water in front of me, but I ignore it.

"Who told you that Mr. Morgan was Matthew Gaines?"

"Um... it was... um. Bruce's dad."

"And what's his name?"

I tell them, and the police turns to the door, nods with his head. I see a man standing there nod back and disappear.

"Tell me again what happened when Sarah died."

I have told them three times already, I think, but I try again. Why don't they listen? I guess they don't believe me. I tell them I didn't mean to do it. I tell them that it wasn't my fault. That it was an accident.

Soda sits next to me all the time, and I hold his hand. I feel Darry's presence behind me. Now and then he adds something, or places a hand on my shoulder.

"You're doing good, Ponyboy," one of the policemen says. "Just a couple of more questions, okay? We're finished soon."

I nod, tiredly. The questions are more about when I was little. I feel even more dizzy now. I tell them about my dreams, and suddenly I wonder if this is a dream too. It could be. The edges of my vision are kind of blurry.

I remember every dream so clearly. I'm a bit confused by that, because everything else around me is not clear at all, and I put up a hand to cover my face as I tell them about what Henry did.

"It, um, it was in the park," I hear myself say. Then I frown. I don't remember what the question was. Then it hit me what I was saying and what they asked. I feel the blood drain from my face.

"He molested you?" the police asks.

My eyes widen even more. He didn't use that word! He didn't! "No!" I almost shout, sitting straight up.

I hear Soda swear under his breath beside me. Darry's hand on my shoulder squeezes me. I close my eyes, hard.

"He didn't... it wasn't like that."

"Did something happen in the apartment?"

I don't answer. I don't even remember what I said to them. What did I say?

"Ponyboy?"

"No!"

"He didn't do anything? Said anything?"

"No. Yeah." I try to lift both my hands up to my face, to cover it, but Soda holds my left too tight. So I rub my eyes with only my right. "It was just... he just threatened me but that's all. I swear it was all. He didn't... like... do anythin'."

"What did he say?"

I don't want to be here anymore. I start to squirm in my chair. "Stuff."

"What kind of stuff?"

"Stuff... um... just stuff."

Soda's hand starts to feel warm in mine. He grips it so hard it almost hurts. I lick my lips. They're dry.

"Come on, Pone," Soda whispers beside me. It sounds like a plea. I blink once. Twice. Everything is still all blurry. I feel so distant. Like I'm not here.

I remember the feeling. It was in the apartment, when Henry pressed me into the wall, when he took the switch blade from me... oh god. The blade.

"I didn't mean to kill her," I hear myself say with a thin voice. "Please don't put me in prison. He told me-"

"Pony." Darry walks around my chair, sits down on on his heels next to it. "What did he tell you?"

I sniff. "Things about prison. What they would do to me. He - he said he should show me. But he didn't. I promise he didn't! I told him he - that he hates himself and he punched me and he left. I promise he didn't do anythin'. He just said... he, he just said. He didn't do anythin'."

Darry soothes me. "It's okay. It's okay, Pony."

I nod, wipe me cheek angrily. Greasers don't cry. I have kind of forgotten who I am these days.

I hear the cops talk and someone, a woman, answers. Mrs. Garcia? I think I hear Soda too. He says something. Darry rises and they all rises so I do too. I wonder why no one stands still. They all wobble, and then I notice it's not just the humans, everything in the room wobbles, and I'm just about to say something, if this is one of my dreams because walls can't move, and then I fall. Down.

xXx

The ceiling is white. I'm in the apartment. I thought I had got away, but that was just a dream. I close my eyes, pretend to sleep. I should try to run, but I'm too scared. I can't move.

He's here, somewhere, around, hiding, watching me -

I will never get away.

xXx

"It's the stress," I hear someone say. "The wound looks fine, no infection. The fever is a reaction to what happened to him, so all he need is to get a lot of rest. I would recommend for him to stay for the night, and then we can sign him out in the morning."

"Okay," Darry says tiredly. "Can we stay here with him?"

Silence at first. But then, "Well, usually we would say no, but in this case, we can make an exception."

"Thank you, doctor."

There is the sound of feet against linoleum, and it must be a door that opens, because other noises get louder for some seconds, before everything is almost silent again.

"You're not gonna take him, are you?" Soda says from somewhere close.

"Let's talk about that tomorrow when Ponyboy feels better," Mrs. Garcia says. "I will leave you now, but I will be back tomorrow. Don't leave the hospital until I have gotten here."

There is the sound with the door again.

"Jesus," Soda swears, and I guess we are alone now. "It feels like we're bein' held hostages here or somethin'."

"Pony needs supervision."

"Not that," Soda spits. "The fuckin' state. Why can't we go home until she gets back?"

"I don't know." It sounds like a chair is dragged over the floor, and Darry's voice is closer too. "If they try anything, we get an attorney."

"With what money?" Soda sounds bitter.

"We'll figure something out."

They are quiet. For a long while I guess they just sit there, but then Soda sighs.

"What he said... what Pony said. Darry. Shit. I'm gonna kill that bastard."

"I'll kill him first."

They know. They know everything. I wish I hadn't said anything. I didn't plan to do it. I wonder what made me babble in a room filled with strangers, when I couldn't talk to my brothers alone, but then I remember the feeling of not being there, like one of my dreams, a nightmare. Maybe this is all a dream.

Maybe I'm asleep. It sure feels like it.

Maybe I will wake up to a day when everything is like it should be, and none of this has happened, and Mom and Dad are alive, and Henry is just a bad memory, or not even that. Maybe he is just my childhood's boogeyman, the bug-man, a monster in my mind and nothing else.

I can have dreamed it all.

I must have. Things like this doesn't just happen. They don't. Only in nightmares.

I decide this is a nightmare. It has to be.

xXx

We are at home, in our kitchen, by he table. Mom and Dad, Soda and Darry and I. A chocolate cake stands in the middle.

"I dreamed that you died," I tell my parents. "You were killed in a car crash."

Mom lays her hand on mine. Dad laughs. I'm so happy they are here. Not dead at all.

"It was just a nightmare," Soda says. "You always wake up screamin'."

I look at Mom. She has put her hand against the side of her neck. "Make it stop," she says. Her eyes widen. I see the red that pours through her fingers.

Mrs. Garcia suddenly stands before me in the room.

"Come, Ponyboy," she says. "Your family is dead. I will take you to a safe place."

I look around the table. Everyone is gone, but instead, Henry and Sarah sit in their chairs.

"I will take you to a safe place," Mrs. Garcia says. "Follow me to prison, Ponyboy. You killed them all."

xXx

"You have to drink, Pony." Soda holds a glass of water in front of me. I pout at him, push his hand away. It's a wonder no water spills.

"I don't want to."

"Juice then? Chocolate milk?" he urges.

Shaking my head I say, "Pepsi."

My brother sighs. "The nurse said no. It ain't good when you need fluids. Just makes you pee a lot."

"But I want a Pepsi."

"Pony, come on. If you get worse, then you can't go home."

I think about that. If I refuse to drink they will refuse to let me go and then Mrs. Garcia can't take me.

"No."

"Kiddo. You need it."

"I don't. I ain't thirsty."

"Doc said you will get dehydrated. From the fever or somethin'."

"I feel fine."

"You still got a temperature." He lays the back of his hand on my forehead, but I jerk away. I shouldn't have done that. The world spins, and I put up my hands to my temples. Soda puts the glass down and crawls up in my bed to sit beside me.

"Pony. Come on."

"Soda, can you please stop?"

He sighs, and he's quiet for a while. But then he says, "Pony?"

"Mhm?"

"Can I ask you somethin'?"

My whole body screams at me to say no. I know what he wants to ask me. But I find myself nod, brace myself for what will come.

"What you said..." Soda hesitates. "Was it true? He didn't-?"

"No."

"You would have told me, wouldn't you?" He says it softly, sounding a bit terrified. "Pony?"

I don't know. But I nod again, just to please him.

xXx

It seems like Mrs. Garcia always comes when we have breakfast. Darry went down to the cafeteria to grab some sandwiches and coffee for him and Soda, but I have the usual tray with hospital breakfast in front of me. It contains porridge and toast and juice, but I can't get a bite down. I pick with my spoon in the bowl when someone knocks and the door opens up. I push the tray away, lie down with my back against the newcomers, drag the cover over my head. I don't care what they have to say, I will shut the world out until it's over.

I listen to my own breathings, try to make them casual and steady. I am calm. Don't think. Just be.

Unfortunately, their words slip in to my hiding place, and not even my fingers in my ears can shut them out completely. It is words from Darry, Mrs. Garcia, one of the cops, sometimes from Soda. His words are clearer since he sits so close, the others' mostly a murmur. I wish I could beg them to shut up.

"...what's best for Ponyboy," I hear Mrs. Garcia say.

"Well, you don't know him as we do," Darry says, voice raised. "If you really want what's best for him, you'll let him go home with Soda and me."

"This is not custody matters. It's about protection."

"That is not a good reason to take him from his home. Do you think I'm doing a lousy job, taking care of him? Being his guardian?"

"No, Darrel, I don't. But he is my responsibility-"

"He's my responsibility."

"Only if I say so, Darrel."

I feel a hand on my shoulder. It must be Soda. He shakes me gently, but I just drag the cover tighter around me. I won't go with her.

There is another voice I don't recognize, and there is an argument, but suddenly they all seem to leave the room, because everything gets silent. Almost.

"Come on, Pony," Soda says, still there, shaking me a bit rougher.

"No."

"They just wanna check on you."

I turn around to my back, let Soda pull down the cover. There is a doctor and a smiling nurse staring back at me. I blush.

"Where's Darry?" I ask, a bit embarrassed.

"I told them not to argue around my patient." The doctor flips with the papers on the chart. "Ponyboy Curtis. An interesting name."

I don't say anything. I'm used to these reactions.

"How are you feeling today?"

I just shrug. The nurse steps around the bed with a thermometer. While she checks my temperature, the doctor steps aside with Soda, talking low with him. I see Soda nod, looking a bit satisfied.

"99.5," the nurse speaks up. Her eyes fall on the tray still standing next to my bed. "You haven't eaten."

"I ain't hungry," I mumble.

"I'll send in something else. At least try to get something down, okay?"

I just shrug.

"What was that about?" I ask Soda, suspiciously, when the doctor and nurse has left again. Darry has still not come back. I hope that's a good sign.

Soda smiles. "Doc is on our side," is all he says.

xXx

They let me go home in the afternoon. I haven't seen Mrs. Garcia since this morning, and I'm afraid to ask what's happening. All I want is to go home and forget. Sometimes I think this pretending thing works, because I feel almost normal. Like it happened to someone else and not me.

I go straight to bed when we reach our house, and no one says anything about it.

xXx

The phone's shrill noise wakes me up. I prop myself up on my elbows to throw a glance at the clock - it's almost nine P.M. I rise.

Darry and Soda stand in the living room, Darry with the receiver in a tight grasp. He looks stern, listens carefully to the person talking at the other end. I meet Soda's eyes, a question in my own. He reaches out an arm, catches me and drags me closer.

"What is it?" I whisper to him.

He frowns slightly, shaking his head. Then he turns his head to watch Darry again.

"Okay," Darry says. "Thanks officer."

He hangs up. I know something has happened. I just know, but I'm too nervous to ask again. Darry looks me straight in my eyes. I want to jerk back, but I force myself to stand still.

"It was the police," Darry says. "They have found Sarah."

xXx

I don't go to prison.

In fact, it appears I'm not even on the suspicion list. I don't really get why, since I know what I did, and I have told everything, but apparently many things proves that I'm innocent to what happened.

They have both mine and Johnny's statement on what Sarah said when she kidnapped me. And after they found her, it appeared she had a police record herself. She had hung out with the wrong guys all her life, and Henry was just one in a long row. It was the first time she had kidnapped and tried to kill anyone, though, or at least from what everyone knew, but she wasn't a nice person.

Then both my doctor at the hospital and the coroner said that my wound came from self-defense, and that my statement about what happened seemed to be correct due to the wound in Sarah's neck and everything else. Her cut looked very unfortunate, but maybe she wouldn't have died if she had gotten the correct help from the beginning.

I cringed when I heard that. I really tried to help her.

One thing that surprised me was that Bruce's dad, Mr. Graham, confessed to the police that he knew about Henry and Luke and my parents. I don't know any details, because no one will tell me and my brothers say they don't know either, but I guess Mr. Graham knew both the brothers, and somehow figured it out. Maybe he spotted Henry on the streets.

Even Luke's doctor came forward and told the police that his patient had been absent from every meeting since the date of the accident, so I guess that the police do believe it was Luke who died that day, and not Henry.

But Henry is still missing. I hope they will find him someday. I hate to be this scared, even though I'm afraid of the trial too. The cops told us that when they find Henry, he will be taken to trial for what happened in the car crash too, not only for what he did to me. It won't bring Mom and Dad back, but at least their killer will be placed behind bars.

I guess we just have to be satisfied with that.

xXx

The next days pass in a blur. I know I sleep a lot. I know that Mrs. Garcia shows up now and then, and I drag myself out into the living room by the time to talk to her. I think she still wants to place me in some home, even though she doesn't mentions it. I can see it in the way she looks at me. But she doesn't act on it. Maybe she realizes how much my brothers and I need each other. I hope she does. She's not that bad, but her coming over is still stressful for us.

I get dressed in the mornings and I try to eat and live through the days, only to sleep beside Soda during nights filled with nightmares. I don't go to school and Soda doesn't go to work, but Darry is almost always absent. But as soon as he puts his feet inside our house after his work day, he asks me a lot of questions. How I am and how I feel. I can tell he's worried.

So I tell him that I'm fine.

One day Mrs. Ellis, my school counselor shows up. I don't know why, but this time, it feels good to talk to her. She leaves a pile of books behind and notes from my teachers that says what I should be working on 'when I manage', and I realize I do manage. Making my thoughts occupied with schoolwork take them away from other things I don't want to think about.

One day when I walk into the kitchen in the morning and find Soda by the stove, I suddenly frown when I look at the calendar on the wall. It has been almost two weeks since I left the hospital. I didn't even notice the time fly by, but I feel better. I really do.

I sit down at the table, fidget with my hands.

"Soda?"

"Mhm?"

He turns around when I don't answer. "What is it?"

I really don't know how to say what it is that I want, but then I make it to a question. "When am I supposed to go back to school?"

He studies me for a while. "I don't know," he finally says. "You wanna?"

I nod. "I think so."

I'm so tired of being a victim. I know most people see me that way, but I can't do it anymore. I want to be just Ponyboy Curtis again.

xXx

I go back to school a couple of days later, when my brothers has gotten used to the thought. Everything is normal there, except that a lot of people seem to want to be my friends for the first weeks. But the day sixth grader Maxwell Lucas ends up at the hospital because his uncle cut him with a knife, everyone forgets about me and talk about him instead. I like that. Not what happened to him, because I feel sorry for him and it awoke a lot of memories in me, but I like that no one talks about me anymore.

I go to Mrs. Ellis twice a week, and Mrs. Thomas has dropped my case. She hasn't apologized for what she did to my family, but I don't care. I have a few months left, and then it will be summer, and after that I will go to High school and then I never have to see her again. They have promised me that I can move up a year, even if I can't get my grades back up. They know I'm smart enough to handle it. And I know that I won't have Soda there, but at least I will have Johnny and Two-Bit and Steve, so it will be all right.

The only thing that shows that everything isn't normal is that I'm never alone. When my school day ends, someone is always there to pick me up, and they stay with me until Soda gets home from work. I won't admit it, and I keep complaining loudly about the baby-sitting, but secretly, I'm thankful.

I still dream about Henry, and sometimes I wake up screaming. The wound on my arm turns to a thin scar, always reminding me of what I did, but I think I will be able to live with it. I know it wasn't my fault. It was hers.

I start to think that this is how my life will be in the future, always looking over my shoulder, always have someone in the gang close, when suddenly one day Dally and I walk through our front door and find Darry sitting in his recliner.

I stop, making Dally bump into me. I feel cold. Darry is not supposed to be home. Both he and Soda work a lot to be able to pay the bills, and we still have bills to catch up with, so overtime is more regular than ever.

"What is it?" I manage to get out. "Darry?"

I think that maybe something happened to Soda. Oh god! What if Henry did something to him instead of me? But then I see my backpack on the floor next to Darry's feet. It's my old one, the one I took with me when Sarah-

Bewildered I look up. My heart jumps in my chest.

"Come sit down," Darry begs me.

I do as he says and sit down on the edge on the couch. Dally remains by the door, watching the scene. My brother sighs, but there is something else about him. Something in his eyes that has disappeared. Like a heavy weight has lift from his shoulders.

"Pony," he says. "Henry is dead."

At first I don't register what he's saying. I just fall back, to the time I spoke to Mr. Graham, and I shake my head.

"No. He just pretend. It was Luke who died, Darry. In the car-"

But my brother interrupts me. He places a hand on my shoulder. "Ponyboy! He's dead. I promise."

I try to take it in. But he can't be dead. He's just tricking us again. Maybe he has another brother, or friend, who died for him, and then he will show up with a different name and-

"Ponyboy." Darry says my name with emphasis, and I look at him. "It's true."

I swallow. Is this how it ends? Can it really be that simple? Don't I have to be scared anymore?

"How?" I finally ask, my voice almost failing me.

"They found him shot in his car. Somewhere in Mexico. First they didn't knew who he was, but then they found your backpack. Your name and address was in it, so the Mexican police contacted the police here in Tulsa. They have already checked the fingerprints. Pony, it is Henry. It's over now."

I sit like frozen. I can't move. I can't believe this is true. But suddenly the front door slams as Dally leaves and Soda barges in, and just moments later, I am in both my brothers embrace.

I think I am crying.

~The End~

I want to thank you for reading and reviewing this story! I know I wouldn't have been able to finish it without your support! It has been moments I really have doubt myself, but your lovely reviews has kept me going. So thank you!

I hope you don't think I took an easy way out by killing him, but I don't want to write a second sequel so I had to. Sorry. At least I didn't end it with a cliffy this time, right? So be nice :P

Please review.