Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies or the Tempest.
"You can't do this to me. You can't do this to me!" I wanted to kill him. I wanted to kill him. It was quite a strange moment. As the owner of one of the largest newspaper companies in New York City, I was never a loss for words. But right then, I couldn't think of anything to say. I guess that was the exception.
"I already have," Thomas replied. I tried to gulp, but my mouth was too dry. It was like a desert in there. "It's time for you to go." It looked as if he had a bit of a smile on his face. No apology. No remorse. Not even a goodbye. A smile. How professional. How appropriate. How lovely. He was showing himself to be the heartless fool I always suspected he was. But, I guess that's not too accurate. Thomas was no fool. Evil, yes, but not a fool. No, his plan was good. Really, good. Superb even, if it was able to pass my mind.
There were no tears down my face, no fits of anger, but oh, how I loathed him. Instead, mirroring the man beside me, I showed no emotion (ignoring my outburst of course). I decided to block out the pain and walk out in dignity. I grew up, always conscious to control myself, but I was really close to breaking that habit. How dare he. Even today, I still hate him. We had grown up together. I remember the moment I first met him.
"Joseph, I would like you meet Thomas, your new brother." The adoption was complete. My mother prodded into the bedroom. She was wearing a nice floral dress, and a white apron, and she gave me this giant smile that was trying to tell me that she hoped everything would be okay even though there was the chance that she possibly ruined my life with this. I mean, the idea of having a brother my age seemed great, but one never knows how the future will turn out.
I tried to greet the boy, but he gripped my, our, mother's hand tightly and his mouth was a straight line and he wouldn't say anything. He was nervous, that was obvious. It was radiating off of his body. Not knowing what to do, I just stood there, staring at him. Probably not helpful, but I was eight. I didn't know what I was supposed to do.
My mother bent down to him and spoke softly, in a very gentle tone. "Thomas, this is Joseph. He's very nice, and I'm sure he really wants to meet you." William took another step forward, but there didn't seem to be much progress made.
"Hello." Because that's what you say when you greet someone. Nothing else came into my mind, and if he wasn't going to initiate conversation, I would have to.
"H-Hi."
We stood there in silence for a few uncomfortable seconds before my mother finally said, "Alright Thomas, I think that is enough. Let's go back to Father, shall we?"
But just as my hand reached the door, I lost it. "You will pay for this! You shall soon regret it!" I heard him sigh just as I left. Perhaps he knew I was right. My little daughter was waiting for me outside.
"Papa?"
"Let's go, Katherine." I grabbed her hand, probably a little too roughly as she left.
"But I wanted to see Uncle Tommy!"