A/N: All right, so I've had this idea forever, but I didn't want to start it until I had some other stories finished. But I figured since Forgetting a Star is around two chapters away from being complete, I am safe to post this. I hope you guys like it :)

His Sixth Sense

April 11th, 1964 (three weeks after Mr. and Mrs. Curtis were killed in a car accident)

I laid in bed that night, choosing to just stay up and wait, rather than fall asleep and be woken by the screech that was certain to come from Ponyboy's room. It would be easier, I told myself. And I would probably be able to get to him quicker.

I hated his nightmares.

I hated them.

He couldn't even remember what they were about, which made me think that there was something seriously wrong with him in the head. Either he was lying, and didn't want Soda or I to know what his dreams were about, or he truly didn't know why the hell he was screaming bloody murder every night.

And that frightened me.

I don't like it when people are mentally traumatized. I don't like it when someone is not in control of their mind. It scares me way worse than something like being beat up, or maybe even kidnapped. Because if you don't have your mind, what do you have? At least if someone is hurting you, there is a way to fight back. You can't see your mind. And I appreciate being able to see my enemies.

Around one in the morning, I thought that maybe, just maybe, we were in the clear. Usually his nightmare came around midnight. By one-thirty, I was about to let myself go to sleep. At thirty-five, the screaming started.

A series of chills flew up my entire body as I bolted myself out of bed. I ripped open the door and ran down the hall, nearly plowing into Sodapop. His eyes were bloodshot and darkened. It looked as if he had decided to wait up as well.

Pony was screaming in his room. I hesitated at the door, not wanting to go inside. Soda didn't seem to want any pauses, because he pushed me to the side and was shaking Pony awake in a matter of seconds.

I don't think anything scares Soda. Well, no. I take that back. A lot of things scare Soda probably. He just doesn't let that stop him.

Very carefully, I stepped into the darkened room; only illuminated by the yellow hall light. I turned Pony's switch on.

"Shh, Pony. Pony, wake up," Soda had a hand on Pony's shoulder, and his mouth was close to his ear. I stood about five feet from the bed. Pony screamed again, his back curving up into an arch. I was reminded of someone that was possessed.

Soda shook Pony harder. "You're dreaming Pony! Wake up!" his grip was vicious. "Wake up, wake up! Please!"

Pony then sat straight up, almost right into Soda; he moved out of the way just in time. His eyes opened, and I felt the courage to move forward beside him. Ponyboy has childish eyes.

My youngest brother's breath came in sharp, uneven gasps. Soda ran his fingers through Pony's hair, and I put my hand on his shoulder. His face was sheen with sweat. I felt a thick lump rise in my throat that usually resulted in tears. God, but I hate crying.

"You're all right, you're all right," cooed Soda, hugging Pony tightly.

"Do you –" I licked my lips. "Do you remember? What it was about?"

Pony shook his head, putting his face in his hands. I kept my place on the floor, with my hand still on his shoulder. There was this sick, dark feeling in the pit of my stomach. The feeling that I had already started to fail at raising my brothers. My parents had been dead for only a few weeks, and I already couldn't handle it.

Soda looked to me, his face pleading. His gaze clearly told me that he wanted to know what to do. What is the solution, Darry? Is there a solution, Darry? What should we do? Will he be all right? You make the call, Darry. You're the oldest, so you make the call.

And I wouldn't fail. It was time to take action. Two weeks of nightmares were enough. "We'll all sleep in Mom and Dad's room tonight. Maybe, you'll feel better if we aren't separated, kiddo," I said softly, trying to catch Pony's eye. His gaze was wrapped into the corner by the window, but he eventually looked at me, nodding.

"And tomorrow, we'll take you to the doctor," I continued. "Maybe he will have some suggestions for us. I don't want you to have to go through this anymore."

Pony nodded again, his eyes still flicking back to the corner. I looked there too, but didn't see anything.

"The doctor, Darry?" inquired Soda. "What do you think he would be able to do?"

In all honesty, I didn't know. But I didn't want to say that in front of Pony. It peeved me a little that Soda had asked in front of him. The kid was completely colorless and shaking with his big eyes still on that goddamn corner. If I had known then what he was staring at, I probably would have lost my head entirely. And wasn't I always the one that told Pony to use his head? The fact that he didn't start screaming again in that moment still amazes (and... disturbs?) me sometimes.

"He'll examine the situation, probably," I said, rubbing my left temple. "Ask you questions," I squeezed Pony's shoulder. "And he will tell us some advice. Anything, I think, is better than doing nothing."

Soda nodded, still hugging Pony. I bit my tongue and stood up.

"Come on then," I told them. "Let's go get some rest. The two of you can skip school tomorrow," Soda grinned. Glory, did that kid hate school. He would drop out before that year even ended. "And I'll take off work so we can get you checked out, kiddo."

That time, Pony didn't even nod at my words. Soda pulled him out of bed and to his feet. I rubbed my arms, feeling a kind of cold atmosphere in the room. Which was strange because it was mid-April.

"Glory, it is cold in here," I said. Soda nodded.

"Yeah, I noticed that too. There must be a crack in the window or something." Soda let go of Pony, and walked closer to the window. Pony's face became horror-struck at he looked, once again, at that corner.

"Soda!" he nearly screamed. "Wait!" Soda jumped nearly a foot in the air.

"What?" he asked quickly, spinning around.

Pony's mouth hung open. I stared at Pony, and remember thinking, The poor kid's nerves are setting him completely on edge.

"Bed," I told them both, gesturing to Soda. Pony looked sickly, and Soda bewildered. I put my arm around Pony's shoulder. Right as we stepped out of his bedroom, the air became instantly warmer. I frowned.

"That's strange," I said very quietly, to myself. Pony probably heard me, but didn't say a word. He looked so extremely strange.

As Soda came to walk beside me, I whispered in his ear, "Take Pony in to bed. I'll be there in a second."

Soda nodded, and I let go of Pony. I waited until they were both inside of our late parent's bedroom before I turned back around into Pony's room. I wanted to figure out why his room was freezing cold, and the rest of the house wasn't.

Right as I stepped back inside, goosebumps raised up on my arms. I proceeded over to the window, checking to see if it was open a bit, or maybe cracked. But once I got there, it looked perfectly fine. And then, very suddenly, I felt this nervous feeling in my stomach. The kind of feeling you get when you are walking all by yourself at night, and you see a black van suddenly following you. Or the feeling you get when the police come to your front door, telling you that your parents were killed by a speeding drunk driver. All three people were killed on impact, I was told.

Or maybe it was that scary feeling people get when someone unknown is standing behind them. Once I was sure there was no source of the cold, I left the room in a jumpy hurry. Right before I was in the hallway, I flicked off the light.

So, what do you think? I would love some reviews! :)