Hello everyone! I thought of this at midnight last night, and I just had to write it down. This is basically my version of Spot's backstory. I have been in love with Spot Conlon ever since discovering Newsies. 3 3 3
Also, there is a mention of the Christian cross in this chapter. Please, don't be offended; it just made the most sense to me. Religion is not going to play a large part (if any) in this story. I'm agnostic, so that could get complicated and off-topic.
Review, follow, and favorite! Enjoy!
Disclaimer: No matter how hard I try, I will probably never own Newsies. :'(
Chapter One
Three years earlier
The rain peppered the pavement. A twelve-year-old boy knelt next to a figure lying upon the ground. The moon was full that night, casting their world in an eerie silver glow.
A cap lay upside down in a puddle of rain and blood near the two silhouettes. It had been thrown from the boy's head hours ago.
The boy ran a hand through his brown hair, bleached blond by the sun at the top. The knees of his pants were soaked from the pool of scarlet blood leaking from a wound in the chest of the girl lying before him.
Her eyes were unnaturally bright. Their normal blue was reduced to a shiny obsidian tone. Her long blonde hair was matted with sticky red liquid. Her cheeks were flushed, and sweat clung to her hairline. Her rosy lips whispered, "Spot. Help me. Please." It was a struggle for her to speak. Each word cost precious energy and time. She let out a shaky breath and hissed, more forcefully now, "Spot."
"I'm right here, I promise," said the boy, his voice hollow. He let out a soft sound, a whimper, as a single tear dropped from his emerald green eye. "Please, hear me, Kameron. I'm right here. I promise."
Urgently, she raised a shaking hand towards the stars. "Spot," she called out raspily. "Spot, where are you? Spot, help me!" Her voice ended in a shrill wail.
He began to cry harder. The rain and blood had drenched the two bodies, the boy and the girl. "Kameron," he said, cupping her cheek in his hand, "it's me, Spot. Hear me. Hear me!" He hollered the last two words into the open air of the silent city.
Kameron's hand flew to her cheek, grasping the boy's. "Spot," she murmured, "I feel your hand." Her expression turned anxious. With her other hand, she reached out, searching for the boy as if she were a blind old woman. Her hand met his knee, and she gripped his leg tightly with her weakened fingers. "Spot," she whispered.
"I'm here," the boy replied, stifling another sob. "I'll always be here."
"Remember when," she whispered, her voice barely audible, "we first met? I was...caught...in a trap…"
"Meant for me," the boy finished. The girl smiled weakly. Her fragile hand trembled on the boy's knee.
"Kiss me," she said.
He did.
The boy leaned in towards the dying girl, and they both closed their eyes as their lips met. He was careful not to hurt her.
She, however, gathered her last reserves of energy and gave them to Spot selflessly, putting the last of herself into the kiss.
When they finally broke apart, she smiled for the last time and said, "I will die happy, knowing that I was as loved by Spot Conlon as he was by me."
"No," Spot said, "you're not going to die. You can't. No." By now, even he knew he was lying to himself. He gathered the girl in his arms, cradling her head. "Please, Kam. Please. Don't die. You can't leave me. Please." At last he broke, sobbing into his lover's shoulder. He managed three more words. "I love you."
The dead girl's body began to cool in the freezing rain. The boy let out a wail. The sound echoed through the streets as the body became limp. He brought her to him, holding her close to his broken heart. "Oh, Kam, what am I ever going to do without you?" Finally, he lay her back down on the soggy pavement. "I love you so much," he gasped," and all I could ever do was hurt you. Who am I, the boy who got you into this mess, the boy who got you killed." He wasn't sure if he was talking to himself or her. He held her lifeless hand to her lips, feeling the steel ring around her fourth finger. Softly, he muttered, "I told you I would marry you one day. And then I killed you." Stop it, Spot, said a voice in his head. It's not your fault. But it was. Oh, how it was.
He reached for his own hand, touching the identical ring there. And then he had an idea.
He unclasped the chain around his neck. It held a cross already, and slipped off his ring, sliding it onto the chain. Reaching out to the soaking body of the dead girl, he gently removed her ring and placed it beside his. Clasping the chain around his neck, he tucked it into his shirt and stood, picking up his sopping cap and shoving it mercilessly onto his head. He left the body. And he made a decision. He would escape. He would pay for his sins. He was going to Brooklyn.
Yeah, I know that a twelve-year-old boy isn't likely to promise that he'll marry his girlfriend. But, peoples, this is 1896, and Spot has suffered enough cruelty to give him the maturity of one twice his age. What did you think? There's a friendly little button downstairs called "Review"! ;-) It would make my day. Follows and favorites are good too!