Chapter Text
This is what it feels like to die.
My lungs are straining, burning– filled up with fire. The Soc’s hand is oppressive on the back of my head, pinning me down into the water. My limbs flail around, wild and desperate. My hands slap the stone of the fountain. This isn’t a joke, my body tries to communicate. Ten more seconds and I’m a goner. My vision is beginning to go red and fuzzy. I know the flicker inside me is starting to extinguish.
Still, all I can think about is Johnny. When I’m dead, no one will be here to help him fight off the five Socs surrounding us. He will be vulnerable and defenseless. Sure, he’s got his blade, but I know he’ll never use it. He’s too innocent for his own good, and the Socs know that. They’ve beat him once before, and in their drunken state I know they won’t hesitate to do it again.
My mind flashes to Johnny the day we found him in the field– bleeding, swollen, shaking like a leaf. After that day, I made a promise to myself that I would protect him. It would never be that bad again. The whole gang felt the same. Now here I am, failing both myself and him.
I don’t have an ounce of strength left to fight. My body is on the brink of collapse. All the alarm bells are going off in my brain, begging for the pain to stop. I want it to stop. I want to fade away, into the comforting void of death– but I can’t. I can’t leave Johnny like this. Not again. I muster all the willpower I have, and slip out from Bob’s grasp.
First, all I can do is gasp and cough. My lungs are clogged with water and my body is in shock. “Johnny!” I manage to call, rubbing my eyes. Bob has left my side. I watch his blurry form run out to a squirming mass on the asphalt. My eyes sting, and I can barely make out what’s happening. When I finally see, I wish I’d stayed blind.
All five Socs have ganged up on Johnny. They’re pinning him down just like they did to me on my way home from the movies– arms and legs held down to the ground, Bob sitting on his chest. I see him pull back his big arm before landing punch after punch. Those old rings of his glint in the moonlight.
It’s like watching a nightmare play out before my eyes. When Johnny was beaten the first time, the gang only witnessed the aftermath. We were left to imagine the horrors which had actually taken place, aided by Johnny’s gruesome description. Words failed to capture the violence I was witnessing now.
I hear his voice call out between blows. Johnny’s words are incomprehensible, his throat tight with tears. Still, I know he’s calling for me. Only I can save him now.
I run over to him, limping and aching all the while. I lunge forward, landing hard on Bob’s back and knocking him off Johnny’s chest. A fleeting moment of success is slapped out of me by Bob’s giant hand. It occurs to me then how much older he is than me. What’s an eighteen year old doing beating up on a fourteen year old kid like myself? Is he that desperate to exert his power over something?
I try to dodge his attacks, scrambling back frantically. I look over his shoulder to see that another one of the Socs has taken Bob’s position over Johnny. Only, he’s not punching this time. The Soc has two hands grasped around Johnny’s neck, his full body weight pushing down on him. I watch Johnny twitch like a trapped bug. At first, Johnny tries to grab the Soc’s wrists and push him off. But soon enough, Johnny’s hands drop to his sides– lifeless.
I get up. I run towards him, but it’s like trying to run in a dream; I’m moving through molasses, and I just can’t get to him. I won’t. Not in time. It’s useless. I’ve failed. I cry out, one last time: “Johnny–!”
BANG!
A shot rings out over the playground. Time stops. I take a moment to observe the scene before me.
The Soc who was strangling Johnny just seconds before has been shot. He’s slumped over on his side, brains blown out, with a slow-growing pool of black blood expanding around his skull.
Johnny is gasping, still lying on his back. A trembling hand has risen up to his throat, his fingertips grazing bruised skin. His eyes are wide, his gaze fixed on the inanimate legs that are draped across his own.
The four remaining Socs are frozen. Bob has his head turned towards the scene, his jaw slack with disbelief. The Socs who held down Johnny are now cowering away from the tall, shadowy figure who stands above us all with his arm raised, gun smoking:
Dallas Winston.