Happy birthday, BrooklynNewsie! I hope it's a fabulous day and a wonderful year!
Race entered the Lodging House, angrily slamming the door behind him. He heaved in a breath of air, swiping angrily at the blood that trickled down from where his forehead had been split open. Jack was an idiot. They all were idiots. Why in the world had the newsies ever thought that they would be able to fight for their rights? Why had they ever fooled themselves into thinking that they mattered? The idea was ludicrous. They were newsboys, members of the lowest strata of society. Of course, no one would listen to them.
And now the strike had failed. Everyone had gotten hurt. Those cops hadn't been gentle as they pushed the newsboys back out of the square. Race gently stretched his elbow out, cursing as pain spiked up the limb. God, that hurt. One of the strike-breakers had grabbed him by his left arm and violently yanked him to the ground. In the heat of the moment, Race hadn't noticed the pain and had managed to kick out and trip the strike-breaker. But, now that the whirlwind of events had calmed down, Race was able to re-focus on the pain that encompassed his entire body.
Tiredly, Race crossed the room, collapsing onto a chair. All that was left for him was to wait for the rest of the newsboys to return to the Lodging House. If they ever would, a cruel voice whispered. Race had seen just how viciously the cops had been railing on the boys and he couldn't quite shake the fear that some of his friends, his brothers, may not even return to their home. Race slumped his head into his hand, trying desperately to push that shadowed trepidation out of mind.
The banging of the door being flung open had Race jolting upward. Davey and Les stumbled into the building, followed by Finch and Elmer. "Where's everyone else?" Finch asked, his bright eyes immediately alighting on Race.
Race shrugged. "Dunno. Probably still makin' their way home." Hopefully still makin' their way home, that voice hissed.
Finch cussed. "Damn, they really got us good," he muttered, taking in Elmer's black eye and how Les clutched his arm carefully against his chest.
The door was opened once again a couple more newsies trickled in, their injuries stark against pale skin. However, Race noticed with a jolt, Romeo was not among the newsboys entering. Most everyone had returned at this point: only Jack, Crutchie, and Romeo still unaccounted for. Race knew that Jack would take care of Crutchie, make sure the crippled boy returned safely home. But, he was supposed to keep track of Romeo and now he had lost the younger boy. Race jerked to his feet, his head swimming at the sudden movement. He had to find Romeo and ensure that the younger boy was okay.
Before Race had taken a single step, the door swung open one final time. Romeo staggered in, one hand pressed to his ribs. "Hey, Rome, you doin' okay?" Race asked, immediately reaching his side.
Romeo shook his head, whispering, "Think I'm gonna barf…"
"Sit down," Race advised, yanking Mush out of a chair and guiding Romeo into the recently-stolen seat. "Give him some room," he commanded.
"Sheesh," Mush muttered. "You'd think the kid was dyin' or something…"
Race ignored the comment, giving his full attention back to Romeo. "You hurt somewhere, kid?"
"The Refuge," Romeo breathed, his voice mute with fear. "He's at the Refuge…"
"What're ya talking about, Romeo?" Race asked, glancing at the other newsboys who had gathered around their injured comrade. "You sure you'se okay?" Race was suddenly worried that one of the cops had pounded Romeo's head one hit too many.
"They got 'im," Romeo explained, his breath hitching. "They got 'im and took 'im to the Refuge and I didn't help 'im even though I knew, I knew."
"Whoa, Romeo, slow down. Who got who?"
"Crutchie," Romeo wailed, starting to cry. "Snyder got 'im and now he's gonna be stuck in the Refuge."
There was a sharp intake of breath as all the newsies realized the full implication of Romeo's chilling words. "Nah, that can't be true," Buttons interrupted. "Jack would never let Crutchie—"
"I saw it!" Romeo exclaimed. "I saw it and Snyder got his crutch and he kept hitting and hitting him with it and…" Romeo trailed off, sniffling slightly. "And now he's in the Refuge." Romeo screwed his eyes shut. "The Refuge," he repeated once more, his voice thick with horror.
"What's the Refuge?" Davey asked quietly and all the newsboys turned to him, surprised at the query.
"It's hell," Elmer informed the older boy.
Mush shoved him. "You don't know that. Those is just stories you'se heard. It might not be so bad. Crutchie might be okay," Mush suggested, his voice hopeful.
"We all saw what Jack was like when he got back," Specs was quick to point out. "He sure didn't act like it was fine."
"Yeah, but Crutchie—" Finch tried.
"Is a damn crip," Boots finished for him, his voice somber. "He won't stand a chance."
"Oh, shut it!" Race shouted. "Look, none of us knows what goes on there. Not a single one of us has been there, so we don't got to gossip about it."
Romeo shook his head, the motion small and stuttered. "That ain't true," he whispered. "I'se been there."
Romeo was small for an eight year old and he knew it. Normally, he hated his height. He hated how the bigger boys could so easily shove him to the ground and there wasn't much he could do to fight back. He hated that the older women would ruffle his hair, but would never offer him more than a penny.
There was one advantage to his height, Romeo supposed. It was easier for him to go unseen. Romeo crept through the alleyway, edging his way to the stand where the old Russian man sold various fruit and vegetables. His stomach growled, an extended, bone-rattling noise. Romeo couldn't even recall the last time he had eaten. Probably some moldy bread a couple days previous. Now, he just needed to grab something. Something quick and easy. Something that could stave off starvation for a few days longer. Hunger wormed its way through his stomach, a thick, coiling snake that shifted and salivated, its whispers susurrating across his mind.
The Russian man was distracted, speaking to some pinched-faced customer with a dark gray bowler hat. Now was his chance. Romeo stretched forth his hand, reaching for the closest object: a red apple that seemed to glimmer in the sunlight. Just as Romeo's fingers grasped the fruit, the Russian let forth a startled shout, his hand clamping down onto Romeo's hand and stilling the boy instantly. "What's this?" the Russian demanded, his voice booming out across the frightened silence.
"I-I'm sorry," Romeo stuttered, trying to jerk his hand back out of the furious man's hold. "Please let me go."
"Were you trying to rob this man?" the customer asked, his voice slick and susurrating.
Romeo quickly repeated, "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry."
"What should I do with the rat?" the Russian asked, his grip tightening around Romeo's wrist.
The man in the bowler hat glanced at Romeo, holding his gaze until Romeo moved to look away. "I'll take him," the customer offered.
"Why?" the Russian asked, his eyes narrowing. "The boy deserves to be punished."
"And he will be," the customer reassured the Russian man. "I'm Warden Snyder. I run the Refuge downtown, a correctional building for boys like this street urchin."
The Russian nodded. "Okay," he agreed, shoving Romeo in the direction of Snyder. "Take him. Make sure he learns his lesson, good and hard."
Snyder grinned, grabbing Romeo and tugging him along. "Come on, little man. You've got a couple things to learn about this city."
Romeo tried to pull out of the Warden's grasp, but was unable to do so. "I'm sorry; I won't ever do that again. I promise. Please let me go," Romeo begged. He had heard of the Refuge before, but only soft rumors that had been whispered in dark alleys, shadowed conversations with words heavy and blunt. There had been murmurs of rats and darkness and hopelessness. Even death. Romeo shivered at that memory. One boy he had stumbled upon, shuddering in the bend of an alleyway, had told him, words stuttered, stilted with fear and memory: They killed 'im. They broke 'im and then they killed 'im. Romeo had tried to ask who the boy was talking about, what was going on. All the shaking boy could murmur was, the Refuge. Those two words still haunted Romeo.
And now, he would be there, too.
The journey to the Refuge was over much too quickly. Romeo had been dragged through a maze of roads and was truly and completely lost; there was no way he'd be able to make his way back to the streets he had called home. Well, home was a strong word. The streets he had grown accustomed to, knew his way around. Snyder's iron grip around his wrist was painful, squeezing the bones together until they rubbed and itched. However, the view of the building that would soon become his life tore all thought of the pain from his mind.
It was an imposing building, three stories tall with dark, barred windows. Vines as black and soulless as ink crept up the side of the building, spreading out—hungry, like a disease. Shadows stretched from the windows down the face of the building, disguising somewhat the peeling paint and nameless stains. A large, oaken door gaped from the front of the building, wide like a mouth. Romeo noted with horror that iron bars were posted in front of the door, sharpened teeth that Romeo had no doubt could kill him.
Snyder tugged him inside, up two flights of stairs, and into a room that smelled of stale urine and sweat. He shoved Romeo to the ground, the small boy shuddering on impact. Romeo immediately curled into himself, hoping to shield himself from whatever pain and darkness was sure to come. "Welcome home, little man," Snyder hissed, slamming the door shut behind him.
Once the pounding footsteps had faded away, Romeo hesitantly uncurled himself, glancing up and taking in his surroundings. Shadows crept across the room, shifting harmless beds and boys into monsters that stalked Romeo in his nightmares. Pale, emotionless eyes watched him from across the room, blinking slowly, sluggishly. There was a small, nondescript window, but it was too grimy, too streaked to view the sky through. Romeo knew it was still day, it had to still be day—he couldn't have been trapped here for that long yet, but with the muck that covered the window, there was no way to determine the time of day, or even if the sun still shone. For all Romeo knew, the world could have been flushed into utter darkness.
There was no hope for him.
He'd crack. He'd crumble. And he'd never be the same ever again.
"Hey, kid," some boy called out from across the room, his mouth stretching into a lupine smile. "What got you thrown in here?"
"Nothing," Romeo muttered, pushing himself up into a sitting position. He glanced over at the boy across the room, whose eyes seemed to glow in the dusky light.
"Nothing?" the boy challenged, standing up. He was tall and thickly built, a neck the width of a tree and a barrel-rounded chest. "You don't just get thrown in here for nothing," the boy pressed.
Romeo shrugged, but didn't know what else to say. "It wasn't a big deal."
"Sure it is," the boy encouraged. He made his way to Romeo, sticking out his hand. "The name's Bill." Bill smiled again, which Romeo expected was meant to be reassuring. If anything, it was predatory. "So, what got you landed in here? You tell me your story, I'll tell you mine."
Hesitantly, Romeo took the hand, allowing Bill to pull him up. "I was trying to steal some food. I was starving," Romeo added, feeling as if the further explanation was necessary. He knew that stealing was wrong and he wouldn't ever do it, unless he desperately needed to. And he had been desperate. Romeo still didn't think he would last much longer without food.
"A little thief!" Bill crowed excitedly. "If you'd want, you can join my crowd. We'se been looking for a thief." Bill lowered his voice conspiratorially. "We'se gonna break outta here and hit the streets. Show all 'em boys what's what."
"Um, okay," Romeo began, "but, what's in it for me?" He needed food. He needed food.
"Friends," Bill reassured him. "Friends, food, safety. Whatever you need."
Romeo nodded. "Okay. Okay, I'm in."
"You got a name?" Bill asked.
"Kids called me Romeo," he explained.
"Romeo it is, then."
As he followed Bill to the far corner of the room, Romeo spoke up once more. "Hey, you never told me why you was tossed in here."
Bill stopped, turning back to face Romeo. "Oh, yeah. My bad." He grinned, his canines flashing sharp. "Killed a kid."
"W-what?" Romeo stuttered.
"Killed a kid," Bill repeated, shrugging his shoulders. "He got in my way. Tried to set up in my alley." When Romeo continued to stare at the older boy with undisguised horror, Bill continued, "Don't touch my stuff or make me mad and you'se gonna be fine," he reassured Romeo.
"O...kay," Romeo whispered, figuring that it was best to agree with the older boy. "B-but, Bill, I was actually thinking," Romeo began. He suddenly didn't want to have anything to do with this kid. Romeo didn't care that Bill had offered him food and protection; he could take care of himself. He'd find some way to survive without allying himself with a murderer. Bill turned to the younger boy, eyes sharp and curious. "I—I was thinking," Romeo repeated, "that maybe I don't want to be your thief. That, maybe, I want to just take care of myself."
"Oh?" Bill challenge, his voice soft and threatening.
Romeo was terrified. Absolutely terrified. But, he couldn't do this. He couldn't work with someone who had murdered some other kid. "Yeah. Nothing against you or anything like that, I just want to take care of myself."
"Okay," Bill said, smiling, his skin stretching back to reveal sharpened teeth. "Okay, take care of yourself."
The older boy walked away and Romeo breathed out a sigh of relief. He would be fine. He wouldn't associate with Bill and his 'friends' that Romeo suspected were just as cruel as their wolfish ringleader.
He would be fine.
"Except," Romeo whispered, "I wasn't fine. Bill and his group made my life hell. They stole my food, ripped my blanket, beat me up regularly. And when it was lights out, Bill would wish me a good night, but the way he said it… I knew he'd kill me if I ever closed my eyes, so I couldn't sleep beyond an hour or so, for fear that he would slit my throat. I—I…" Romeo fell silent, before continuing, "I was sentenced there for a month for stealing and when I finally got out… I ran as fast as I could. I was so scared that Bill would get out and find me, kill me."
"Romeo…" Race breathed. "Why… I never knew that. Any of that."
Romeo shrugged. "It never came up. Didn't really matter anyways."
"Of course it matters!" Race quickly asserted, his words tinged with half-restrained anger. "You was nearly killed. You was in the Refuge!"
"Look," Romeo began, glancing around the room and noticing all the eyes on him. He shuddered at the heavy attention. "I'se fine. That was years ago. I just wanted to tell you guys what it's like. It…" Romeo sighed. "I don't know if Crutchie can make it through."
"You did," Race was quick to point out.
Romeo sniffed loudly, shaking his head. "But, I didn't." With that final comment, Romeo pushed past the newsboys that had crowded around him, disappearing further into the Lodging House.
"What was that about?" Elmer asked.
"Someone's gotta go talk to him," Buttons voiced.
Race nodded. "I'll make sure he's okay. Probably just bad memories and now with Crutchie… Anyone would be upset."
"Tell him we hope he feels better!" Les piped up.
"Okay," Race said, smiling softly at the younger Jacobs brother. He gently knocked on the door of the room that Romeo shared with a couple of the other newsboys, before pushing it open. "Hey, Rome, I'm coming in," he announced.
"Please go away," Romeo whispered. "I'se fine, Race, really. I just want to be alone for awhile."
"Tough," Race said gently, sitting on the bed next to the younger boy. "Look, Romeo, I was wondering 'bout what you said back there."
"It's all real. That's what the Refuge is like," Romeo muttered. "And Crutchie…" he broke off with a whimper.
Race nodded. "Yeah, and I'm real sorry about that. But, Romeo, what did you mean when you said you didn't make out of it okay? You seem fine to me," Race pointed out.
Romeo shook his head, the action slow and mournful. "I—I screwed up. I had to s-sacrifice everything to get out…"
"What do ya mean?" Race asked.
"It… There's more to the story than what I told you guys. I—I didn't…" Romeo trailed off. Race waited patiently for Romeo to sort through his words. Finally, Romeo spoke up again. "Like I was telling ya, Bill and his buddies, they… I hated them. They kept harassin' me and I couldn't do nothing about it." Romeo paused, releasing a shuddering sigh. "It got real bad. I couldn't sleep 'cuz I thought they'd kill me. I couldn't eat much and Bill kept sending his boys afta me. It was… it was hell. I couldn't— There was nothing I could do to stop 'em! I…"
When Romeo trailed off again, Race gently reached across the space between them, squeezing the younger boy's shoulder. "I'se sorry you had to go through that. If I'd'a known you, I'd'a never let you go there. But, Rome, this is all stuff you'se told us before."
Romeo shrugged. "Look, Race, you'se gotta understand. There's only two types of people that can make it outta the Refuge. People like Jack, who are strong and self-assured, and won't be broken for nothing. People that can force themselves to get outta there. They may be battered and hurt, but they won't stop at nothing 'til they'se free of their own accord." He paused, sighing, before continuing, "And then there's people like me. We'se the type that will do anything to stay alive. We'se willin' to bend and shift and change, all in order to be safe."
"What are you talking about?" Race asked quietly.
"I did it," Romeo sobbed. "I knew it was wrong and I did it anyway. It was the only way," he whispered. "It was the only way."
"Romeo, I have no idea what you'se talking about, but I'm sure that you-"
"I joined Bill!" Romeo shouted, the confession tearing from him. "I came back to him, so that they'd stop beatin' on me. I did really bad things," Romeo confessed, tears tracking through the dirt and grime on his face from the strike. "I helped Bill beat the kids that wouldn't help him. I stole a kid's blanket and tossed it out the window, just so that he wouldn't 'ave it. I took one boy's food each night and ate it in front of him, until he was nearly starved to death. I—I did awful things, Race. All in order to survive."
Race was silent for a moment, before whispering, "You did what you had to do to survive. You had ta get outta there."
Romeo nodded bitterly. "I did. I did, but I shouldn't've. I shoulda been like Jack. I shoulda fought back and not given in."
"How did you finally escape?"
"I was released before Bill and the boys. They told me where I was supposed ta meet up with them when they got out. I didn't go. I couldn't. I came here, joined you'se guys. I was terrified Bill was gonna find me, but he hasn't. Maybe he forgot 'bout me. I don't care. I just want 'im to stay away."
"I'se glad you're okay," Race said, because, really, what else was there to say? What else could he say?
Romeo snorted humorlessly. "Yeah, well, I ain't. I pretend, but I ain't. And, now…" Romeo trailed off, before turning to Race. "Now, Crutchie's in there and he ain't like Jack or me. He's not gonna be able to muscle his way out and lash out at anything that tries to crush 'im. And he's not going to bend 'is morals in order to survive. Race… I don't think Crutchie is gonna make it outta there. The Refuge is going to break 'im, crush 'im, ruin 'im."
Race shook his head. "Surely, he'll be able to—"
"If I could barely survive that hell, Crutchie don't stand a chance."
So, I tried a frame narrative. What did you guys think about that? What did you think about Romeo's belief that there were only two types of people that can survive the Refuge? I would love to hear all of y'all's opinions on this one-shot!
Reviews and constructive criticism are always very welcome!