NEW YORK, 1948
Abigail stirred back into consciousness, the back of her head throbbing and her vision desperately trying to focus on her surroundings. Through the blurs and the headache, she sat up on the hard wooden flooring beneath her. "Alfie?" She called out, looking around the room for some sign of life. Nothing. Panic began to rise in her chest once she realised she was without her twin. The room was completely devoid of any sound or movement, which did nothing to quell the sense of fear that was rapidly forming within the confines of her mind.
The uncertainty of her brother's fate was, to the sixteen year old, akin to the end of the world. If something had happened to him, she'd be completely alone. The thought left a sour taste in her mouth. After everything they'd been through together, surely this couldn't be the end.
Leaving Salford was her idea in the first place, which meant if Alfie had been killed for snooping around New York's docks, it would be on her. A worse thought forced it's way to the forefront of her thoughts; what if their parents found out they were headed to New York? What if they'd gotten to Alfie and locked her away in this room? What if she was next?
Abigail tried to get on her feet, though the dull ache in her head knocked her off balance and she collided with the cold, unforgiving floor. Her breathing became more erratic and unsteady as the overwhelming panic consumed her. She had to find Alfie. She had to get to her brother before it was too late. If only she could get up off the floor.
Once again, Abigail tried to force herself to stand, though her efforts were in vain as she fell back to the ground. The gravity of the situation weighed heavily on her, pinning her down to the floor, keeping her from making any more attempts to escape. The fear was starting to paralyse her. Hope was fading fast.
They never should have left home. It was so stupid to think they could escape from that nightmare successfully. They never should have le-
The door opened, bringing in a flood of light with it. Abigail strained to see a figure stood in the doorway. She tried to blink away the blurriness to no avail. The figure moved forward, slamming the door shut behind it before walking towards her. The panic subsided briefly as Abigail tried to focus. Footsteps moved swiftly and stopped dead in their tracks in front of her. She flinched as the figure crouched down, feeling a hand gripping her hair, forcing her to look up at the man in front of her.
He looked to be in his late twenties, with deep brown eyes and an expressionless look adorning his rounded features. He wore a navy blue suit, though Abigail figured he wasn't a typical businessman. The panic returned full force once she realised she may be confronted with one of those "men of respect" she'd read about. A friend of the friends. Mafioso.
"Listen, kid." His voice was harsh, a Bronx accent laying thick on his words. "I ain't goin' to be playin' no games here. You ain't goin' to be seein' your brother unless you start talkin'." A wicked grin formed on his face as Abigail tried to free herself from his grip, desperately clawing at his hand. "There's no use, doll. Look at you. You're far too weak to do a fuckin' thing to me. Though, I gotta admit, I like your spirit."
Abigail hissed in pain as the man tightened his grip. Words refused to leave her through struggled gasps for air.
"First, Tessio starts makin' threats to take down my business, then suddenly the two of you show up snoopin' around my dock, rummagin' through my cargo. I gotta say, I'd have thought your boss would have better timin' than that."
"I don't know what the fuck you're talking about!" Abigail yelped, trying to pry her hair from his hand. A confused look replaced the grin that was on the man's face. "Please, just let us go! This is just one big misunderstanding. We didn't mean to trespass, we don't know anything!" Her words were shaking as they fell clumsily and rapidly from her mouth.
After what felt like an age, the man released Abigail's hair from his grip. "What the fuck is a Brit like you doin' in New York? What, are you some kinda runaway?" He interrogated, almost mocking in tone.
"Something like that." She replied quietly, avoiding eye contact with the man as she tried to back away. "Please, just let us go! We won't tell anyone, I swear!"
"Oh, I'll let you go. But you've gotta tell me everythin' first. Then you'll have your happy little reunion with your brother, and you can go on your way to wherever the fuck you're headed." She could feel his eyes burning into her skin as he spoke. "What were you doin' lookin' through my shit, huh?"
"We were looking for food, that's all."
"Why did you run away from home?"
Silence. Abigail looked up at him through tear-filled eyes. How could she trust him? How did she know he wouldn't send Alfie and herself on the next ship back to Salford? How did she know he wouldn't contact her parents and tell them of their whereabouts?
"Why did you run away from home?" He repeated, his tone more stern as he dragged out the question, his eyes staring coldly down at her cowering frame.
"B-Because t-t-they-" It all started to feel too real. It was almost as though if she uttered the words, it would mean she'd have to admit everything they'd gone through at the hands of their parents. Escaping to New York was supposed to be a fresh start. The land of opportunity. They could put everything behind them, go about their lives and pretend none of it had ever happened. They'd get their own apartment, sleep in beds instead of cardboard on the floor, never have anyone raise a hand to them again. If she admitted the abuse they'd endured, then there could be no hiding away from it. It would mean the two of them, regardless of their will to repress the memories of their past, would have to confront it instead.
"They were hurting us." Silently, tears cascaded down her cheeks as she tried to fight away the thoughts from home. Even now, in a silent room with a strange man, she could have sworn she could hear her father yelling at her.
An uncomfortable, eerie silence fell upon the room as the man continued to stare at her, his gaze unmoving and unnerving, to say the least. In an attempt to regain some kind of control over herself Abigail chocked back her sobs, trying to stiffen her upper lip so she wouldn't show just how vulnerable she really was, though she figured that was already painfully obvious by now.
It came as a small surprise that she could even manage to cry given how dehydrated she was. The twins managed to steal a few scraps of food here and there on the cargo ship, but it was nothing plentiful. It was just enough to keep them going through their voyage. The treatment from their parents had made their bodies adapt to receiving little to no food for extended periods of time, but neither of them had ever gone hungry for quite this long. Trying to steal food from the man's cargo was seen as their only option.
Though now, as she sat on the ground, looking back at the man who's gaze seemed to look straight through her rather than directly at her, she was beginning to regret it, even more so given that she couldn't be sure her brother was unharmed.
"How old are you, kid?" He asked, his voice now soft, reassuring almost, lulling her unwillingly into an odd sense of calm.
"I just turned sixteen, sir." She responded, the admission causing the man to break his stare momentarily. Abigail could have sworn she'd seen a look of pity on his face. Her breathing had regained it's steadiness. This did not stop her from being on high alert around the man. She didn't trust him, she had been given nothing to show that she should. However, she didn't move; there was no feeble attempt at making a run for the door, no effort being exerted into getting back onto her feet. Instead, she just sat there, waiting for some kind of response. Waiting for something to happen.
The man let out a frustrated sigh as he pulled a cigarette from a silver case he'd been keeping in his pocket, making quick work of lighting it and taking a drag. The blueish smoke floated fluidly from his lips as he coaxed it from his chest, directing it's path away from Abigail as he did. He stood up and took another drag before speaking. "Y'know," he began, smoke following his every word. "Lookin' at you, I wouldn't say you're that old. I ain't gonna lie, I thought you and your brother were about twelve years old, given the size of you."
Abigail said nothing in return. Still being slightly on edge, she didn't want to say the wrong thing and potentially enrage him. Even though he seemed so calm and collected on the surface, there was no doubt in her mind that he could snap at any moment. Instead, she sat there quietly, watching as he began to pace the room. "So, what's the plan, doll?" He asked, his gaze returning to her. Abigail was silent as she looked up at him in confusion. You tell me, she thought to herself, you're the one keeping us here. "Well, you both made the effort of comin' to New York. You must have some kinda plan for your lives here, right?"
Silence. In their desperation to leave their abusers, they'd never even given so much as a thought about what exactly they would do once they arrived to safety. It seemed so stupid of them now, but at the time, the only thoughts they had were to leave as quickly as they could, to disappear without a trace and hope their parents were too doped up to notice they'd gone.
Another sigh of frustration. "Kid, what did you think was gonna happen?" He scolded, frowning down at her as he stopped pacing the room. "What, you think you can just move to a whole new country and everythin'd just work itself out? I don't know if you noticed, but World War Two just ended three years ago. You think anyone here is gonna put their trust in some foreign kids that ain't even moved here legally? That's very fuckin' naive of you."
Abigail kept her head down and stayed motionless, silent as she listened to his words. The twins hadn't thought it through, of course they hadn't, but they figured any kind of life in New York would be better than what they were dealing with at home, if they could even call that Hell a home. Nothing else had occurred to them other than finally being free and finding somewhere safe to live. As far as they were concerned at the time, there was nothing else for them to think about.
"I get it. I understand why you did what you did." The man looked down at her and took another drag of his cigarette. Still, she avoided his gaze, her body trembling in fear, waiting for some kind of hurt that she was conditioned to receiving from her parents. "You were scared. Hell, I fuckin' would be, too, if I were in your position. I ain't gonna ask you any details about what happened because it ain't my business to know. All I'm sayin' is, you've got a Hell of a storm comin' right at the two of you if anyone finds out you're here. You'll get deported right back to England if the cops find you, that's a certainty."
That last statement was enough to strike dread straight into her chest. Abigail could feel her heart sinking to her stomach as her breathing started to catch in her throat. That could not happen. Anything but that.
The man stayed there, completely frozen as he watched Abigail frantically trying to catch her breath, trying to say something, anything to get herself out of this situation and to somewhere neither herself nor her brother could be found. Going back to Salford wasn't an option. The only thing that would come out of that was their death. She'd rather suffer whatever brutality New York had to offer than go back to her parents.
The constant throbbing in her head, along with the panic, was making her feel even more powerless than before. It seemed like she had hit a dead end with nowhere to turn. There was no going back. There was nothing she could do. God only knows what would happen to Alfie, but whatever it was, it would be her doing. His blood would be coating her hands. They'd been so close to freedom. So close to safety, and peace of mind. Yet, as she crumpled on the floor with her head in her hands, it all seemed like a fever dream.
Instinctively, she flinched when she felt a hand on her back. Her terror was not lessened when she realised the man who had been keeping her in this darkened room was attempting to comfort her. "Kid, look at me." Calming, yet stern in tone, he tried to pry Abigail's attention back to her surroundings. Feebly, she averted her eyes to him through her fingers as she kept her face guarded. "I ain't goin' to let that happen. If the cops come sniffin' and find you both here, that puts me in shit, too. Unfortunately, not every cop is on my payroll. I can't risk bein' put away right now. So, I'm goin' to help you both, alright? Just calm down."
Why would you help us? Abigail thought to herself, though she didn't dare bring the question out of her mind and into the open air. If this was the only way she could ensure her brother's safety, then she'd be damned if she'd turn him down, regardless of whether or not he was a part of a criminal organisation.
He held out his hand. "Get up, darlin'. We'll go get your brother, and then we'll figure somethin' out." Warily, Abigail took his hand and pulled herself onto her feet with his aid. Almost protectively, and unexpectedly, he wrapped his arm around her waist as he guided her toward the door, holding her upright as she struggled to walk, feeling weak from the lack of nutrition in her system.
The light sent a sharp pain through her as the door was opened, her hands instantly moving to guard her eyes from it. If it wasn't for the man keeping her up, she would have fallen to the ground . Her vision was blurry as she kept her eyes to the ground and away from the source of the light. Still, she kept moving forward in fear of what would happen to her if she stopped. The floorboards were generic, as was what she could make out of the walls. Abigail supposed that would work in the man's favour if anybody tried to talk about him or his business he'd previously mentioned in passing. There was nothing unique about the hallway that could be used as any real descriptors.
If anyone was brought back to this place for any unsavoury reasoning, then there could be no distinguishing features to go off of. It was plain, worn out, old fashioned, and definitely a replaceable residence should he have to move everything pronto for whatever reason. Her observations were cut short as she was guided into the room that sat at the right end of the hallway.
A burst of energy that came from seemingly nowhere rushed through her as she darted towards her brother, who welcomed with open arms that soon enveloped her tightly, as though he was afraid to let her go in case they were separated once again. "Y'alright? He didn't hurt you, did he?" Alfie spoke in a hushed tone, his eyes fixated on the man who'd brought them both here.
"I'm fine. We're gonna be fine, Alfie, he's going to help us." Abigail assured him, pulling away just enough to see his face, which she soon realised was lightly battered. A busted lower lip, a swollen left eye socket that was starting to bruise. He let out a laugh in reaction to his sister's words.
"Somehow I don't believe that." Alfie gaze was still heavily fixated on the man, the red embers of anger flickering manically in his pale green eyes. "Do you think he'd do this to me if he was going to help?"
"You weren't talking. You left me no option, kid." The man cut in, walking towards them and discarding the cigarette end to the floor. Alfie pushed Abigail behind him, standing tall in front of his sister to protect her, something that had become second nature from years and years of dealing with their homelife. "You should be thankin' me, really. I could'a done a lot worse to you. Besides, your sister told me everythin' I needed to know. Let's say I've had a little change of heart." He stopped in front of Alfie, leaning down so their faces were inches away from each other, his face blank and emotionless. Alfie, however, did not move a muscle. The younger man stayed vigilant.
For a few moments, they all stood motionless. Abigail held her breath as she watched the scene in front of her unfold. A grin slowly formed on the man's lips. "You're alright, kid. You've got a pair of balls, I'll give you that." He stood up straight and fixed his jacket, his gaze switching between the twins. "I don't know about you guys, but I could go for somethin' to eat. We'll discuss what use I'm goin' to have to find for the two of you after that."
"Who the fuck even are you?" Alfie asked, his voice curious, yet still untrusting of the older man.
"The name's Frank Fontaine."