Jack had just woken up, but before he opened his eyes, he knew something wasn't right. It was quiet. Too quiet for the lodging house. A small ache started in his temples, but he pealed his eyes open anyway and confirmed something was very wrong. He was lying on a concrete floor in what appeared to be a jail cell, bars surrounding him on all four sides. The only light entering the dark room was from a window near the ceiling that was just at street level indicating he was underground.
"Welcome back to the Refuge," a familiar voice sneered. Snyder. "A little different than you remember?" Jack didn't respond, too stunned to speak. He'd heard rumors of the Refuge's basement previously, but he didn't want to believe he possibly could have ended up there. "The basement is where we keep the boys who will get the worst beatings so their screams don't disrupt everyone else. This is going to be your most miserable stay yet."
Jack rolled his eyes, reflecting on his previous stints in the Refuge, knowing that Snyder would make his life a living hell but he would never give him the satisfaction of knowing so. He knew he would be beaten and broken, the pain may become unbearable at a point, but he would take it without a word. "I've been thinking about you, Kelly," Snyder interrupted Jack's thoughts. "You've gotten way too good at taking my beatings. I know I cause you pain," Snyder paused and lifted Jack's shirt to admire the scars he had inflicted in previous stays, "but you're so good at pretending it doesn't hurt. It really makes it less fun for me. So how can I punish you?"
"Guess you can't," Jack smirked, pulling away from Snyder's grip and pulling his shirt back over his scar-covered torso, but knowing Snyder had something evil planned.
Snyder turned to the darkness behind him and yelled, "bring him in, boys."
Two of Snyder's guards escorted in Race whose eyes were wide with fear and confusion. His hands were cuffed tightly in front of him, so when he was thrown to the ground inside the jail cell, he could only break his fall with his elbows and forearms. Snyder picked him up and dragged him to the center of the cell where he positioned him on his knees facing Jack. For the first time, Jack felt scared. His heart was pounding faster and faster with his headache mirroring it.
"No, no, please no," Jack protested. "You can do whatever you want to me, but Race is innocent. Please don't hurt him. Please let him go." Begging made Jack feel dirty, but he had no time to worry about his own feelings when that monster's hand was resting on Race's shoulder.
Race's fear was growing. He had never seen Jack so panicked. Snyder smiled, which made them both feel worse. "Like I was saying, beating the crap out of you just doesn't have the same satisfaction it used to, Kelly, but if I mess with your boy here, I think that would be worse for you than any physical pain I can inflict."
Obviously he was right. Jack could take anything, but he was not going to be able to handle Snyder torturing his brother. Before he could protest any more, Snyder retrieved a cane and delivered a blow to Race's lower back. Race grunted in pain, and Jack instinctively closed his eyes tightly and lowered his head. "Oh no no," Snyder said to Jack. "You will watch, or I'll start over."
Jack raised his head slowly, meeting Race's piercing blue eyes, trying to convey a silent apology as Snyder hit him again and again and again. Snyder was very talented with his cane. He never missed his target, never allowed his victim a moment to catch his breath. He was so good with his aim that after 20 or more strokes, a kid would only be left with four burning red stripes on his back, exactly where Snyder intended. Race took it well; Jack told himself that Race is strong, but he would never forgive himself for bringing this on him.
Eventually when Snyder grew tired of Race, he turned and nodded at his guards, one of which entered the cell, dragged Race to the perimeter, and seated him beside Jack with his back to the bars and legs straight out in front of him. He fastened his handcuffs to a hook on the horizontal bar above his head. It wouldn't be long before his hands would go numb from lack of blood flow, and his shoulders and back ached from the positioning, not to mention the beating. Meanwhile, the other guard left and reappeared with Specs, placing him on his knees in front of Snyder, where he could be beaten in front of an audience made up of Jack and Race.
"Please, Spider," Jack begged, realizing if Snyder had Race and Specs, he might have a whole lot more of his brothers. "Please don't. I'll do whatever you want. Please leave them alone." His voice started shaking, so he stopped talking. He felt tears burning his eyes but knew better than to let Snyder see. Snyder didn't acknowledge that Jack even spoke, and his cane came crashing down on Specs' back. Specs drew in a sharp breath, from surprise more than pain, and he didn't make another noise the rest of his beating. Race brought his knees to his chest and buried his head so he didn't have to watch. Snyder didn't pay him any attention, only watching Jack's eyes fill with tears that he didn't dare let spill over.
As Jack predicted, it didn't stop with Specs. One after another—Albert, Romeo, JoJo, Finch, Elmer, Sniper— guards paraded newsboys into the jail cell, positioning them on their knees in front of Snyder, always having them face Jack so he could easily watch their pained faces. Then when they were done their turns, moving them to the perimeter where their hands would be cuffed above their heads in a front row seat to watch the next brother be tortured. Each boy was more terrified and confused than the last, being thrown into a room where their brothers sat broken and helpless. With every stoke of the cane, Jack felt like he was the one being beaten, and he wished he were. His heart was breaking, his headache growing, he internally cringed as he watched them each take their turns, but he remained stoic, refused to show Snyder any weakness.
When a guard dragged Crutchie into the cell, Jack's stomach dropped. His crutch was missing, surely confiscated to make escape impossible, and his bad leg looked like it was giving him more trouble than usual. None of his brothers deserved this torture, but Crutchie least of them all. His ever present smile was gone, which alone was enough to make Jack want to cry. Snyder began the next beating but quickly grew angry with Crutchie's inability to hold his position on his knees. Jack could tell Crutchie wasn't going to say anything, so he had to stick up for him. "Spider, he obviously can't sit like the others, look at his bum leg."
"Oh, he has a bad leg? Which one, this one?" Snyder asked as his cane came crashing down on Crutchie's right calf with all of his strength behind it. Crutchie, who had been doing such a good job maintaining his composure, let out a blood curdling scream. The rest of the boys reacted with gasps of horror. Jack glared at Snyder, who only slyly smiled back at him while he shoved Crutchie to the ground face first and continued his beating like that's how he wanted him positioned all along. Jack cringed, but secretly was glad he didn't have to look Crutchie in the face anymore.
Just when Jack thought his heart couldn't break anymore, that his headache couldn't possibly get worse, that he was at his lowest low point, a quiet question came from Race just beside him. "Jack? What are we gonna do?" He wished there were anything he could do. The anger inside of him wanted to rush Snyder, steal the cane out of his hand, and turn it against him. He knew he had enough adrenaline pumping through his body that he could take him, even though he was half a foot shorter and 75 pounds smaller. The rational side of him knew as soon as he made any movement toward Snyder, at least two guards would stop him before he could get half way, and it would only mean worse beatings for his brothers. So Jack had calculated, as he watched Crutchie helplessly lying in a pool of his own blood and tears, that there was absolutely nothing he could do.
After Crutchie came Mush, Buttons, Smalls, and Henry. It didn't seem like Snyder was slowing down at all. When he was done with Henry and demanded the next boy, two guards entered with Davey and Les, who couldn't be pried from his brother's arms. "We couldn't separate them," a guard whispered shyly to Snyder. Snyder tried pulling Les off of his brother, but when he realized his attempts were futile, he began swinging his cane indiscriminately making contact with both of their arms, backs, heads until Les dropped. Jack gathered Les and pulled him to his lap, shielding his eyes and ears by hugging his head to his chest. Jack was younger than Les his first time in the Refuge; he had not yet turned eight, and Snyder did not take it easy on him. He still has scars from that trip, not only physical, and his heart broke thinking about innocent Les facing the same fate.
The guards slapped on Davey's handcuffs and positioned him in front of Snyder. Les screamed and cried into Jack as Davey received his beating. "I'm fine, Les," Davey breathed between lashes, but it only antagonized Snyder and made it worse. Davey's beating was the hardest of all the boys', and when he was finished, a guard handcuffed Davey to the perimeter and pulled Les out of Jack's lap to the center of the cell.
Les had tears streaming down his face, but Snyder had no sympathy. All the boys looked away, Davey buried his face in his knees, and only Jack watched as Snyder instructed. "Stop crying, boy, and I'll take it easy on you," Snyder demanded. Les sniffled and wiped his tears on the back of his hand. "Hold your hands out in front of you, palms up." Les did as he was told, but as soon as Snyder's cane came down on his palms, he yelped and recoiled.
"Les," Jack called, and their eyes met. "You can do this. You're so brave. Take a deep breath and stay strong. Focus on staying nice and still and it will be over sooner." Les nodded and did as Jack instructed, but when Snyder hit him again, he couldn't help but pull away.
Snyder walked over to Davey, unhooked him, and dragged him back to the center. "Your brother will hold you still so you can finish your punishment," Snyder told Les. Davey stood behind him, his handcuffs offering just enough slack so he could reach around to tightly hold Les's wrists still as Snyder continued his beating. Davey couldn't watch. He buried his face in Les's hair, planting a kiss on the crown of his head, but just listening was enough to make him feel sick to his stomach.