"So I says ta him, 'Come 'round heah again an' I'll rip ya face off an'...'" The boy's jovial voice faded as his eyes latched onto something in the distance.
"What's a mattah, Spot?" Jack Kelly asked, then followed his gaze to find a thin figure looking around in the darkness as though lost. Without an answer, Spot started towards the young girl, whose jet black hair fell in messy curls around the middle of her back.
"You okay, miss?" Spot asked gently to the girl's trembling back. The girl jumped, then turned, revealing her blood-stained hands and dress. Tears poured down her pale cheeks and her eyes were as black as the hair that blew into her face. Spot and Jack both stared at her in shock, taken back by the thick redness covering her.
"I...I...she...she killed them." The girl stuttered, "Dead...they're dead..."
"Whoa, calm down." Spot said to the frantic stranger whose face was like a china doll's but whose eyes paralized them with terror. "Who killed who?"
"I'm next...yes," She nodded, looking at her hands, "it's my turn."
"No!" Jack objected, "You ain't next!" He sent Spot a meaningful glance and reached out for the girl in front of him.
"Don't punish me." She whispered in almost an evil voice, "You'll be sorry."
"We ain't gonna punish ya, we'se jus' gonna clean ya up a bit." Spot assured her, surprising Jack with his gentleness. The girl studied him with black eyes that seemed empty, then nodded slowly and took Spot's outstretched hand.
*
"What's 'er name, Spot?" A tall, lanky boy asked in a low voice, not wanting to wake the sleeping girl. Spot stared thoughtfully at the lump in his bed, the only movement was the rise and fall of her chest.
"Nevah got it outa her." He replied, "I think she fahgot it."
"Fahgot? How can ya fahget ya own name?" Another boy asked incredulously, but was silenced by Spot's sharp glare.
"I dunno...jus' let 'er sleep fah now. Maybe she'll remembah ev'rything tamorrah." He suggested. All the Brooklyn boys headed to their bunks, though their whispering was audible to their tense leader.
*
"Where am I?" Came a small, shaky voice. Spot looked up from his light sleep, not finding much rest in the hard, wooden chair. The girl was sitting up, her black eyes searching for something familiar, but catching on Spot's. "You're a bad boy."
"What?" Spot chuckled, not believing she had said that. He stood up and tried to get closer, but failed.
"Don't touch me." The girl warned darkly.
"I ain't gonna hoit ya, uh, wha's ya name?" He asked, dying to hear the name of this mysterious imposter.
"It's a secret." She said seriously, then giggled. "I'll never tell my secrets to you." She continued in a sing-song voice, standing up and jumping up and down on the bed.
"Okay..." Spot backed away, a little worried. "Den I'll jus' call ya Secret. Wheah ya from, Secret?" The girl continued to giggle and continued to jump, until she fell onto the floor with a loud thump. Spot ran to her side to make sure she wasn't hurt, but the girl's black eyes darted past him, falling upon the door that opened that very moment.
"Need help, Conlon?" Blue stuck his head inside to find the sight. His breath caught in his throat, his eyes connecting with the void blackness of the girl's.
"Conlon, Conlon, Conlon..." Secret bounced back to her feet and began dancing around Spot. "You're pretty." Blue turned tail and headed out quickly, his desire being to gather another newsie and bring him back, but none would follow.
"Stop dat. C'mon, cut it out." Spot took hold of the girls flailing arms and penned them to her side. For a moment, Spot got lost in the empty abyss of Secret's eyes and felt as though he was falling in a bottomless hole. Just when he was beginning to get dizzy, the girl's lips forced themselves upon his. Spot allowed himself to kiss back for a while before rebuking his hormones and gently pushing her off of himself.
"Naughty Conlon." Secret shook her head, her long inky curls shaking with it. "Tut tut, very naughty." Spot was beside himself with confusion.
"Washroom's ovah deah if ya wanna clean up." He finally said, trying to figure out what to do with her bloody attire and hands. Secret slowly turned and entered the washroom, not making a peep.
"Is dat goil looney 'er somethin'?" Ringlets asked, obviously having spoken with Blue already.
"She's somethin'." Spot responded with a bit of a shudder. "I guess we'll keep 'er wit' us 'til we figyah somethin' out." He shrugged, pulling up his suspenders.
"Whata we s'posed ta call 'er?" Dibs questioned from his bunk, where he was hastily pulling on his boots.
"I call 'er Secret, she don't seem ta mind."
"Wheah is she?" Blue looked up, a spark of fear in his eyes because he had witnessed the cold atmosphere of Secret's gaze.
"Washroom. Hopefully she'll get all dat blood off." He said, looking for something, "Anybody got some extra clothes?"
*
"Conlon, Conlon, Conlon..." Secret was singing as she sat in the large, wooden tub. Spot entered, thinking he'd given her sufficient time to clean up.
"Got ya some clean...oh, sorry." He turned when he saw she was still without clothes. Secret giggled like a giddy school girl, though Spot knew she had to be at least sixteen. She stood up in the tub and let the water trickle off of her.
"It likes me, I think. Doesn't want to go away." She said to Spot's back, "I asked it nicely, but it needs to be punished." Spot couldn't fathom what she was going on about and, assuming she was at least covered, turned. She was studying her crimson stained hands, careless about whether Spot was looking or not. Taking a deep breath and swallowing the awkward feeling of seeing her like this, he approached her slowly.
"Maybe if ya use soap?" He lifted a bar of dull colored soap and took her hands, beginning to scrub them. She suddenly jerked away from him, her possessed eyes looking hurt.
"Why do you punish me? I didn't do anything wrong!" She exclaimed. Spot picked up a towel and handed it to her, feeling guilty.
"I wasn't punishin' ya, Secret, I'se tryin' ta make da blood go away." He tried to explain as the girl dried her body and pulled on the over-sized newsie attire.
"It listens to you." She spoke after a few minutes of silence, "Tell it to leave." Spot took his chances with another outburst and began working at her hands again, until they were white again.
"Theah." He dried her hands, then decided to try again to get some information, "Wheah'd all dat come from, anyway?" Secret's face broke into a sparkling smile and she began twirling in circles.
"I like these better than those dreadful dresses." She said in a airy voice, her hair drying as she spun around and around, once again making her company dizzy.
"You, uh...you wanna help me sell?" Spot rubbed his eyes tiredly. Secret stopped mid-spin and nearly tipped over.
"Don't sell me, I'll be a good girl." She pleaded with him. Spot couldn't help but let out a laugh.
"No, sell newspapah, not you." He assured her, she snatched up his hand in her's, which felt as cold as ice and trembled involuntarily.
*
"Deah's a good headline taday, Conlon." Dibs called to the approaching leader, whose hand was still clutched in Secret's. "Won't take long ta sell."
"Good." Spot muttered, gathering his stack of papers with his free hand. He glanced over the front page casually, then nearly dropped them all. "He wasn't jokin', was he?" He muttered.
"You are a nice boy...you are a pretty boy." Secret whispered into his ear as he read, shocked.
"COUPLE MOIDAHED IN BROOKLYN!" A fellow newsie called as he passed the two. Secret fell to the ground, having released Spot's hand.
"She really did. She killed them, she really did." She mumbled over and over. Spot read on to find out what had happened.
"Stabbed repeatedly...weapon not recovahed...dayum." Spot shook his head, then looked down at the sobbing girl. "Dey ya parents?"
"No...no parents." She looked up, "She killed them."
"Who? Who killed 'em, Secret? Tell me who." Spot lifted her to her feet again.
"It's a secret." She giggled in a sing-song voice, "Never tell secrets...naughty girls tell secrets...naughty girls get punished."
"Knock it off, Secret." Spot demanded, becoming irritated, "Dis ain't funny, dese people are dead, an' you know who offed 'em." He accused her, causing her smiled to turn into an ice cold scowl.
"Don't punish me, you'll be sorry." She hissed. Spot looked back down at his paper, searching for answers.
"...Their daughtah, Brianna Richa'ds, is missin'. Authorities say dat da moiderah kidnapped 'er from da crime scene..." Spot read out loud, then looked back at Secret. "Dat's you, ain't it? Brianna Richa'ds?"
"Secrets, secrets, oh I'll never tell..." She sang, attracting side ways glances and causing Spot's cheeks to burn with loss of patience.
"How can I protect ya if ya don't tell me what happened?" He raised his voice above her song. The girl stopped, turned, and stared right into his eyes.
"I'm next, you know." She told him, just as casually as anything, "She has no choice. It has to be."
"No, it doesnt!" Spot dropped his papers angrily, "I ain't lettin'...her kill you!"
"You care?" She asked, her ebony eyes shining widely at him. "You are a good boy." She told him, again.
"Please," Spot softened his voice and gently caressed her cheek with the back of his fingers, "Let me help ya."
"No one can stop her." She shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes. "She is very powerful, very dark."
"I can stop her, Secret, let me try." He pleaded, feeling as though he was caught under the spell of her enticing beauty. Spot didn't notice the two bulls closing in on them, but Secret's eyes flickered, she knew.
"Get away, boy." A police officer demanded Spot, dismounting his horse and grabbing Secret's arms.
"Get off 'er! Let 'er go, she didn't do anythin'!" Spot faught fruitlessly.
"She was so angry...Mama had the knife on the table..." The girl began to mutter.
"What's she goin' on about, Jacob?" The other bull asked impatiently.
"I tried to stop her...but she hates me...she killed them..." Secret was as calm as the sea after a storm, staring directly into Spot's panicking eyes.
"Who? Secret, tell 'em who did it so dey won't take ya away!" Spot shouted, struggling against the officers restraining him.
"She grabbed the knife...one time, then two and three...over and over..." Secret ignored all the uproar around her as more bulls showed up, by-passers stared curiously, whispering, and Spot begged her to tell. "She hates them...they punish her..."
"WHO?" Spot demanded an answer. Silent tears slid from her empty eyes as she hung her head, the ravenish hair shadowing half of her pale face. The world seemed to freeze as everyone held their breath, waiting for an answer. In a voice not much louder than a murmur, she replied.
"Brianna Richards." The street stared with bated breath, shocked and rendered speechless. "Now I've broken my secret, now...I will die, as well." She added, sounding as if in deepest despair.
"No, we'll protect ya!" Spot found his voice, "C'mon, bulls! Tell 'er ya'll keep 'er safe!" Spot demanded, his heart pounding. The bulls stared at him as though he were the crazy one.
"Boy, you can't be serious." One finally answered.
"Coise I'se serious! Why wouldn't I be!?"
"Because, the Brianna Richards she claimed killed her parents...that's her." He stated simply, pointing briefly before letting his hand fall limp to his side again.
"No, it's gotta be a mistake! Let 'er go!" He felt hot tears stinging his eyes as he pushed and elbowed out of the grasp of the officers. "She didn't do it! Tell 'em it wasn't you!" He lifted her chin and looked into her cold, narrow eyes. "Please, Secret."
"Conlon, Conlon, Conlon..." She sang with a smile, "You're pretty...you're a nice boy...Conlon, Conlon, Conlon..." As if someone had stabbed her in the heart, Secret collapsed into his arms, her black eyes rolled back in her head. She had broken the secret, and her soul had been taken away.