Disclaimer: Newsies= not mine.
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Jack Kelly is dead.
I couldn't believe it when one of his boys told me. Jack couldn't die. Especially not in some stupid war with Harlem. But he did. And all because some bastard had a knife.
I wanted to just sit down in a corner and cry, but I couldn't. Brooklyn doesn't cry. And I didn't have time to either. I had to be a leader. I had to make decisions. I had to get revenge.
That evening I led my boys into the streets of Harlem. Darkness had just begun to fall when we found him, sitting there, gloating about how easy it had been to take down the leader of Manhattan.
When he saw us coming for him he turned and started running. But he never made it. He tripped and fell on his own knife. The same knife he had used to kill Jack.
It started raining then, drops running down my face, making it look like I was crying. And maybe I was, I don't really know. It was horrible, seeing him lie there in a dark red pool that was slowly turning pink as the rain fell.
Jack Kelly's killer was dead, but it didn't make me feel better. The war with Harlem was over, but I didn't feel any relief.
I felt nothing.
It's raining again, just like it was when he died. And I'm sitting alone on the docks wondering what the hell I'm supposed to do now. Manhattan needs a new leader, I need to finalize the terms that Harlem agreed to, and I have to find out why the boys from the Bronx are suddenly welcome in Midtown.
But I don't fucking care anymore.
It's raining and I might be crying.
But Brooklyn doesn't cry.
So it's just the rain.
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AN: I finally decided to write something from Spot's POV. . .I'm pretty pleased with it, but I want to know what everyone else thinks. : )
- - - - - - - - - -
Jack Kelly is dead.
I couldn't believe it when one of his boys told me. Jack couldn't die. Especially not in some stupid war with Harlem. But he did. And all because some bastard had a knife.
I wanted to just sit down in a corner and cry, but I couldn't. Brooklyn doesn't cry. And I didn't have time to either. I had to be a leader. I had to make decisions. I had to get revenge.
That evening I led my boys into the streets of Harlem. Darkness had just begun to fall when we found him, sitting there, gloating about how easy it had been to take down the leader of Manhattan.
When he saw us coming for him he turned and started running. But he never made it. He tripped and fell on his own knife. The same knife he had used to kill Jack.
It started raining then, drops running down my face, making it look like I was crying. And maybe I was, I don't really know. It was horrible, seeing him lie there in a dark red pool that was slowly turning pink as the rain fell.
Jack Kelly's killer was dead, but it didn't make me feel better. The war with Harlem was over, but I didn't feel any relief.
I felt nothing.
It's raining again, just like it was when he died. And I'm sitting alone on the docks wondering what the hell I'm supposed to do now. Manhattan needs a new leader, I need to finalize the terms that Harlem agreed to, and I have to find out why the boys from the Bronx are suddenly welcome in Midtown.
But I don't fucking care anymore.
It's raining and I might be crying.
But Brooklyn doesn't cry.
So it's just the rain.
- - - - - - - - - -
AN: I finally decided to write something from Spot's POV. . .I'm pretty pleased with it, but I want to know what everyone else thinks. : )