Tears

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A few hours earlier
Bree was desperately trying to convince the gang that soda was still alive but they were having none of it. They thought she was insane for believing some mysterious letter. Before too long she decided to stop trying to convince them, she needed to do it herself. She needed to find him. She was about to leave when Darry's voice stopped her.

"What are you doing?"
"Going to find soda."
"Honey, I know that you took this hard but he's dead. "
"No he's not."
"You're pregnant, you can't just go."
"Well y'all ain't gonna do it so I guess it's up to me."
He stopped arguing with her after that and let her go.

5 hours later.
Bree's POV

I had searched everywhere and soda was no where to be found. I sighed and sat down on a park bench and thought for a moment or two. Suddenly I had an idea, I got in my car and drove to the horrific girls house. No one was home so I picked the lock and ran down to the basement. She had just left, there was still blood on the floor down here. Fresh. I took a deep breath and walked into the room down there. There, laying in a heap, was Sodapop.

"Soda?" I whispered in his ear.
He groaned softly, probably convinced she was back to hurt him.
"No babe it's me, Bree." I whisper stroking his hair.
"Who are you?" He whispered, his voice was dry and broken.
"I'm your wife." I whisper stroking his hair as soothingly as I can.
"I can't remember anything, I'm
Sorry, oh god I'm sorry." He whispered moving trying to cover himself.
"No no no baby, hey hey listen." I whisper frantically. I see two hopeless blue eyes fixed on mine.
"I'm not going to hurt you." I whisper slowly.
He looks at me for a moment, before nodding. I gently take his hand and stroke it timidly. He smiles a little and intertwines our fingers.

"Please get me out of here." He pleaded with me.
I nod before calling the gang to come and help me. I sent a picture to prove my point. The house was a little over a ten minute drive so with two bit driving....that will be...
I hear a car pull up
60 seconds.

The whole gang came down stairs and Darry picked soda up. After a little bit of convincing that that was his brother soda just laid limply in Darry's arms.

When we got to the house, it was all stitches and gauze. We gave soda some water and he practically chugged it. When we were done the gang asked if he wanted any of them to stay with him.

"Bree." He whispered faintly.
They nodded and I say down beside his bed and held his hand.
He scooted over and pats the bed beside him. I lay there with him and pull the covers up around him.
"I don't know why but I feel so safe with you." He admitted.
I smile and gently kiss him on the forehead and kept lightly stroking his hair. Sooner or later he fell asleep. Physical damage was pretty bad but this was emotional turmoil. This was PTSD. I took a deep breath and looked down at his fingers to find him rubbing his wedding ring in his sleep, a nervous habit of his. I knew soda was still in there. I wasn't giving up.

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