But He Hated Me. - Steve Randle

{EIGHT}

Entry Eight
April 12ᵗʰ, 1968

It was around the middle of the night when it happened. I was sitting on the couch in the Curtis's living room, Darry and Sodapop both asleep in their rooms when Ponyboy came stumbling out and walked into the kitchen. He clearly didn't see me.
     I got up and quietly walked in behind him, but my gasp gave me away when I saw him holding a knife. He looked at me, terrified.
     "Steve!" He had exclaimed, quickly hiding the knife behind him as if I didn't already see it. "I didn't know you were here."
     I quickly took the knife away from him and put it back. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" I whisper-shouted. I don't know why I was rude.
     Then he looked down, his hair falling in front of his face and hiding his eyes, but I could tell he was crying. He whispered, "I'm sorry."
     I felt all sorts of emotions in that moment. I was angry, I was worried, I was scared, I was hurt, I was sad. I couldn't say anything to express how I felt.
     So instead, I asked him to sit and talk with me.
     He hesitated, but he did.
     I asked why he tried to hurt himself.
     He hesitated before whispering, "I had a nightmare. This time, I could remember it, and it was killing me."
     "What was the nightmare about?"
     "It was all my fault. That's what they kept telling me, Johnny and Dallas. They said that if I hadn't run in, Johnny wouldn't have followed, and he wouldn't have died. Dallas wouldn't have killed himself."
     I tried to comfort him about it, tried to tell him it wasn't his fault, and I don't know what I said, but he snapped at me.
     "What do you know, Randle?" He had said. "Nothing. You know nothing. And why do you care about me so suddenly? You always hated me before, so why now?" Then he got up and left me alone.
     I just wanted to help, but he hates me.
     I didn't sleep after that.