Johnny

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    I Can Do It

Trigger warnings: Yes. Depression, abuse/neglect, self-harm, and angst.

Note: It's just a sad ass oneshot about Johnny. No reader or relationship with another one of the gang. This is after the book, but Johnny and Dally lived.

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   Johnny Cade's eyes were unfocused and blankly looking at the wall of the Curtis house. Soda was in the shower and Johnny was sat in his wheel-chair staring at the wall next to the shower and kitchen doors. Johnny's thin fingers grazed the wheels of the chair while he was lost in thought.

   Why him? Why the church? Why Bob? Why Socs? Why greasers? Questions echoed dimly in his mind as his lip quivered. Johnny tried not to cry. He hated crying. He hated it ever since Bob and those Socs had jumped him in the lot. Johnny's eyes focused as he looked down blankly at his body. His legs were meaningless at this point. Numb looking sticks for him to hit when he was mad.

   Johnny would dig his fingers into his legs whenever he got mad. He never felt it and that meant he could bring blood without ever knowing it. God, he hated that.

   "His back is perfectly healed, but he'll still never be able to walk again. He'd paralyzed from the middle of his back down. He can't ever walk again." The Doctor told the gang how it was as Johnny looked hopelessly up at the ceiling.

   Johnny shuddered at the memory. He hated those words. 'Can't ever walk again.' Why did those words wake him up in the middle of the night? Why did those words get uttered every time he gets talked to?

   Johnny dug his nails into his thighs before he thought about how upset Pony or Dally got when they'd see the marks. He rubbed his face in frustration. He didn't mean to, but when he tried to put his hand back in his lap he grazed his throat. Johnny let out a whimper and cringed.

   He could feel the scarred and destroyed skin. He hated the scars from the burns more than he hated not walking. Sometimes he could forget about not being able to walk. When he gets to sit in something other than his wheel-chair, for instance. But whenever anyone talked to him they were always looking at his neck or hands. That made his stomach churn.

   At least he wasn't living with his parents anymore. When he'd gotten discharged from the hospital after his back had healed, he'd gone home with his parents. They treated him worse than ever. Especially since they wouldn't let him leave their house. He was always in his room, laying on the bed or in the floor. He didn't have a wheel-chair then and they weren't going to get him one.

   Johnny had cried for days before Dally had finally showed up to see Johnny. He'd pushed right passed Johnny's mother and pushed Johnny's father down. He'd found Johnny laying on the floor of his room. His parent's hadn't even helped him to the bathroom.

   Dally rushed over, madder than he'd ever been before, to the Curtis household. Darry, Soda, Ponyboy, Steve, and Two-Bit were there now too. Johnny's stuff was packed up, he was given a bath, Johnny's father was beaten, and Johnny's mother was locked in her bathroom. Dally had carried Johnny over to the Curtis house and Johnny never argued. It was better of that way.

   Johnny had, for the first week or two living at the Curtis house, imagined and hoped his parents would show up at the front door. Maybe they'd apologize and tell him they loved him no matter what. Maybe he'd go back with them and they'd be okay. But the door only opened for the gang and Johnny lost that day-dream.

   Johnny felt extremely guilty to be such a burden to the gang. He wished he could work or at least get into the bathtub himself. He was trying extremely hard, but he was weak from being in the hospital so long. His upper-body strength was increasing and he was getting better at controlling his wheel-chair, but it was still a challenge.

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