Hello again fine people! I've decided to write another story about Spot…I just love him so much…hope you all like it!
Disclaimer: I do not and will never own Newsies. Unless someone wants to help me plot to kidnap them…muhahahaha! This goes for the rest of the story! Well just the part about not owning them.
00000000000
Normal POV
Anytime someone was brave enough to ask Spot Conlon about the key around his neck. He would glare at them, and say it was too a closet. No one pushed the subject further and just assumed that it was a bit of Conlon sarcasm and he just said it to make them shut up, or he would soak them. The thing was though, that the key really was to a closet, one from his childhood. It is probably best to start all the way at the beginning of Spot's life…this is Spot's story after all.
It all started seventeen years ago when Katherine Conlon gave birth to a little boy. Sadly she never knew what he was, because she died during child birth. Caleb Conlon broke down when he witnessed the death of his wife. Ever since that day he blamed Spot for Katherine's death. Didn't even bother giving him a name, Caleb would beat him every night for Katherine; yelling at him about everything, but his wife's death would always be the true reason.
The two lived in a small house in Queens. Caleb worked in a factory while Spot would stay home alone. Every day he wished to run away, but all the windows and doors were kept locked. One day when he was six Spot did try to run away. Caleb had gone to work like always, Spot sat alone in his room looking out the window. He decided he could not take his father anymore. All those nights Caleb got home and decided to take his anger out on Spot. He had belt marks on his back, bruises all over him; he just could not take it any longer. He first searched the house for a key, but could not find one. He decided the only way out was to break a window. He grabbed the heaviest thing he could pick up…which for a six year old was a skillet from the kitchen. Spot picked it up and threw it as hard as he could towards the window. After three times he cracked it, and within two more tries the window was finally broken. Spot climbed out and ran as fast as he could.
Spot did not know where he was running; he just knew he had to go as fast as he could. He realized while running that this was really the first time he had ever been outside of his house. Occasionally his father would let him go out side with him, but only if he was in a good mood, which seemed to be rare. Even then this was the farthest he had ever gone outside the small home. There was one problem besides not knowing where to go for Spot, and that was that without knowing it, he was running in the direction of Caleb's factory.
00000000000
Caleb got off of work a little early that day. It was a little after five and he usually got off at six. He was in a good mood; he had finished his work early and did not have enough time to start something new, so he got to leave. He started his journey home, after a little while he noticed a figure running. It stopped. Caleb looked a little closer noticing that the little boy he was staring at was no other than his own son. He noticed panic in the wide eyed little boy; he started to chase after him, while his son ran. His good mood had dropped quickly.
After chasing his son into an alley, he was glad to see it was a dead end. He approached Spot. "What the hell do ya think you're doin'?" Anger shot through his eyes.
The boy shook in fear. "I'se sorry papa, I-I-I…"
"You what!? Huh? Tryin' ta run away!?" He grabbed Spot. "Well we'll see if ya try ta run away again…aftah I'm done with you…we'll see if you can even walk!" Spot protested, but could do nothing as his father dragged him home.
Caleb brought Spot back to their house. He opened the door and threw the boy inside. One of the worst times in Spot's life began at that moment.
"Did you break dat window?" Spot stood in fear. Caleb picked up some of the glass that fell on the inside of the house and threw it at Spot. "Did you?!"
"I'se sorry!" Spot tried to run to his room and shut the door, but Caleb was too fast. He took off his belt and started beating the child, threatening death if he ever tried to run away again. Blow after blow, it seemed like forever before Caleb finally stopped. Spot laid on the ground crumpled into a bloody ball. He was crying and shaking.
"Who said you could cry!?" Caleb looked around the room. "I'm gonna make shoah you nevah runaway again!" He grabbed Spot and dragged him toward a little closet in the room. He opened it, there was nothing in it, so he threw Spot in there. "You can think about what a horrible excuse foah a child ya are in here, you're mothah would be ashamed!" He shut the door and put a chair in front of it. He ran to his room and got the key to the door. It was a little silver key. He grabbed an old shoelace and slipped it around the key. He found a nail on the wall and put it there.
Spot tried getting up, which did not work, so he crawled to the closet door and banged on it pleading for his father to let him out. He scratched and hit it, but he could not hear his father any more. Spot crawled to a corner in the closet; it was dark, cold, and cramped. This is where he would spend most of the next four years of his life.
AN: Woot! So that is the first Chapter! I hope you all enjoy it. I think I like this story a lot, which would make sense since I'm writing it. It has been on my mind for a while, so I hope you all enjoy! And please keep reading…