Unless...
By: Shorty Carter

Everyone deserves to live their life without pain or worries, fear or anger. But some, the unlucky ones in life, live with it all. They go through life living their nightmares, their upbringing as a child showing each and every day. Some unlucky few get lucky; some live with this saying, "My life is Hell." But there are those few, the rare ones, who are caught in the middle. They live their lives like the lucky, but deep inside all Hell is breaking loose. Some live this way till they die, while others burst when it becomes too much. And that is when the true meaning of 'Hell' can be used. Because when that happens, it is Hell. And there is very little we can do to stop it. Unless.

She was running, her legs churning beneath her, fire and pain coursing through her veins. Her lungs were on fire, yet she kept running. Down the deserted street towards her current home. Stealing a quick look behind her, she screamed. She ran faster, trying to get away. She reached the steps, taking them two at a time. Suddenly a hand grabbed her, and she fell...

Traveler Coville woke up in a cold sweat, fear lacing itself through her body. Her legs burned, her lungs smoldering. Breathing hard, she gazed into the dark room with frightened green eyes. Her fiery red hair, trademark of her Irish background, swung around her head as she turned around in her bed, looking, waiting. A hand touched her shoulder, and she nearly woke up the entire city of New York City.
"Woah! Call down dere, Travel! What's got ya so scared?" Asia asked, her dark eyes looking into Travelers green ones. Things came together, and Traveler realized it was just a dream.
"Nuttin', Asia. Jus' a bad dream. Ya can go back ta sleep," Travel said, relaxing a bit. Asia looked at her carefully, then sighed and went back to her bed. Traveler lay awake the rest of the night, afraid to go back to sleep for fear of a repeat of the feared dream that had haunted her for so long.

"Heya boys! How's tings goin'?" I yelled, walking up to my friends. They were all guys, rough and strong, but really softy's under all that muscle. They grinned, yelling their hey's and hi's at me.
"Heya Traveler! Where youse been lately?" A short, dark haired boy asked, talking through his cigar. A stack of papes, as we call them, sat beside him while one lay open in his lap.
"All ova, Race. I ain't got dis name fer nuttin'!" I said, grinning. Traveler was indeed my name, Traveler Coville if you wanted to get personal. And a traveler I was. I never stayed put long, always going from one territory to another. All over New York City, I was well known for my temper, sharp tongue, and joking attitude. I also know a wide arrange of words in three languages. Though Russian is my favorite, I also know Swedish and German. If you get me mad, you'll be swore at in the most colorful of ways, and you won't understand a word.
"So, learn anytin's new at da Bronx?" A tall kid with an eye patch over his left eye asked.
"Ya. I's finally learned the word for hole. Now I can call you, 'asna grop', insteada, 'asna!'" That got the boys going.
"Keepin' outta trouble ova heah, I's hope," a boy with a bandana and cowboy hat around his neck asked, joining the group.
"Why Jacky-Boy! I's surprised! Are ya sayin' I's can't behave? Would youse like a demonstration a all I's learned? Cause ye're askin' fer one, ya esel!" Jacky-Boy, Cowboy, Jack Kelly, whatever you called him, he blushed.
"Youse been around Spot again, haven' ya?" he asked, smiling.
"No, but I had a fight wit 'im again. He's still don' like me." Spot Conlon, leader of the Brooklyn newsies, was against girl newsies. He thinks that there is some law that declares girls' non-able to do anything but be wives, girlfriends, and housekeepers. I'll show him.
"Annuda one? Didn' ya jus' have one last week?" Race asked.
"Ya, but he don' seem ta get it through dat thick head a his. I's sick a him. Everytyme I go an' sell papes dere, he's gotta speak 'is mind. I wish he'd jus' shut up," I said, walking up to where the clerk was and buying 100 papes. "So, who wants to sell wid a goil who is hot headed and has a sharp tongue?" Many shouts went up, making me laugh. The only thing worth living in this world was them. Without them, I'd already be gone. Out of all the New York City newsies, I like Manhattan best. "Well! Glad ta sees I'm so loved here! I - pick - Racetrack!" Disappointed groans sounded, and I laughed even more. "Boys, boys! I's gonna be here fer two weeks! I'll get around ta all a youse!" Racetrack grinned, grabbing his papes up from beside him.
"Racetracks as usual?" I asked, grinning at him.
"Youse bet! Come on, I's gotta place a bet on da foist!" He grabbed my hand and practically dragged me to the races, ignoring my shouts that I could walk on my own. Immediately he went and placed his bet, holding his ticket like it was the most prized thing in the world. I studied the horses, picking one out and placing a bet as well. Then I scanned the headlines, looking for a good starter.
"Mayor and wife fight! Divorce date set!" It wasn't a very good one, but it sold a good 10 papes. "Tank ya kindly, sir!"
"Travel! Da race is bout ta start!" Race yelled, walking over to the rail. I followed, standing next to him as the horses were loaded into the gates. We only had seconds to wait before the herd broke, pounding down the dirt track towards the wire. Race yelled his horse's name, as if it would help the horse run. As the herd rounded the stretch, African Mist, the horse my bet was placed on, challenged Once Wild, the horse Race had bet on. The two fought for the lead, both of their jockeys' hunched over their backs to gain some distance. The wire drew nearer, and I found my voice mixing with Race's. Suddenly African Mist jumped ahead, just in time to cross the wire first. I whooped and hollered, then quieted when I saw Race's face.
"Good pick. Say, would you mind tellin' me how you always get such good horses?" he asked, grinning at me. I sighed, happy that he wasn't mad at me.
"Sure. Come on, I need to go collect." We made our way to the betting box, talking excitedly about how to make a good bet. I handed the man in the box my ticket, receiving 6 dollars. I had asked for all ones, and when I got them, I split my winnings with Race.
"Heah," I said, handing him three dollars. He looked wide-eyed at me, mouth- hanging open.
"No, I can't take ye're money! You won it, fair an' square," he said, shaking his head at me.
"Racetrack Higgins, take the money! What are friends fo?" I said, shoving the money into his hands. He tried to give it back, but all I did was step away.
"It's your money! You keep it!" he yelled, stepping towards me. Something sparked inside of me, a fear so great my heart began racing. I stepped away again, fear in my green eyes. Race looked at me, clearly confused.
"Travel? What's da mattah?" he asked, stepping towards me again. It was too much; the fear was too great. I spun on my heels and sped off, my breathing faster than normal with fear. Race came after me, yelling for me to stop. But I didn't. It was like my dream was haunting me during the day, not only at night. Finally I stopped, hands on my knees as I frantically tried to fill my lungs. Race was no where in sight, so I continued selling. When he finally showed up, I had sold all of my papes, and was one dollar richer.
"Bout time youse showed up! Sold all a me papes already!" I said, the former fear gone from my eyes.
"What was that all about? Why'd youse run away?" he asked, worry in his deep brown eyes. I couldn't tell him the truth, nobody would understand.
"I though I saw someone from me past. Dat's all. No worry's. So, shall we go to Tibby's?" I asked, hoping to get off that painful subject. Race stared at me for a moment, then shook his head.
"Sure. I can sell da rest of dese on da way." With that we headed to Tibby's talking about everything except for the incident.

She was running again, her legs churning beneath her, fire and pain coursing through her veins. Her lungs were on fire, yet she kept running. Down the deserted street towards the Lodging House. Stealing a quick look behind her, she screamed. She ran faster, trying to get away. She reached the steps, taking them two at a time. Suddenly a hand grabbed her, and she fell, into the hands of her pursuer. He grinned at her, and she could smell the stale smell of liquor and cigars. He threw her to the ground, laughing when she cried out in pain. He took a step towards her, and she moved back. His face was dark, so dark she couldn't make out his features. He laughed again, taking another step towards her. She moved back again, but not quick enough. He lunged for her, the sharp, cold feel of a knife piercing her side. And she screamed...

Traveler shot straight up in bed, fear plastered across her face. She was met with the faces of her friends, all worried and confused at her outburst. She was breathing hard, her legs and lungs smoldering. She quickly looked at her side, relieved to find no blood, but shocked to see a bruise there. She didn't even notice the tears streaming down her face, and Traveler Renee Coville never cried. Not even when she was forced to live on the streets by the orphanage caretaker when she was four. She felt someone wrap their arms around her, and she nearly screamed again.
"Travel! Calm down Travel! I ain't gonna hoit ya," the quiet, soothing voice of Mush said, rocking back and forth with her in his arms. Traveler cried, sobs racking her body. The others just stood there, shocked to see their tough friend so weak. After a bit, her sobbing quieted, and Jack was the first one to brake the silence.
"Travel? Ya mind tellin' us what's got youse so upset?" he whispered, afraid that a loud voice would spook her more. Traveler looked up at all of her friends, people who had been by her since she was just a little girl. She looked down, making the hardest decision of her life.
"I guess youse guys desoive ta know. It all started when..."