Thanks to IloveCruthchy23, Mayarin, and DiAmOnDsrBlUe for reviewing! They really mean a lot to me! They seriously made me happy!
When I counted up my demons
Saw there was one for every day
With the good ones on my shoulders
I drove the other ones away
~Coldplay "Everything's Not Lost
For the next couple of weeks, Emma would get up bright and early to complete her runs to whichever borough Spot had assigned her to, keeping tabs on what each one was up to, and making sure everything was in order. She spent her mornings there, and then traded off with another one of Spot's "birdies" in the afternoons so that she could attend her lessons with Reader.
Emma went out of her way to avoid Spot as much as possible ever since her run in with the rich fellow. He had been keeping a close eye on Emma, making sure she didn't do anything stupid or something that would risk the safety of his newsies. She wouldn't even be surprised if he had someone following her on her runs.
As much as she hated to admit it, Spot intimidated Emma. She felt scrutinized under his cool, calculating gaze; it was as if she was doing everything wrong. She normally took pride in her courage and composure, but when confronting Spot, she felt small and insignificant.
Luckily, however, Emma had found Reader to be a good friend to her. He always found a way to cheer her up and make her loose all of the self-doubt that had been built up by Spot. He showed her the ropes of the city and taught her the tricks of the trade to being a newsie.
During, their lessons, Reader never lost his temper with Emma, which was something she appreciated immensely. She couldn't pick up on reading as easily as she would've hoped and was very grateful Reader didn't make her feel stupid. He seemed to understand her trouble and would help her out whenever she stumbled.
Emma sat quietly at the small kitchen counter in the lodging house, concentrating deeply on the task in front of her. With a furrowed brow and the tip of her tongue pointed out of the corner of her mouth, Emma's unsteady hand wrote out the letters of the alphabet for the sixth time that day.
Reader sat across from her, watching her patiently. They had been working on improving her reading and writing skills, but much to Emma's disappointment, she hadn't made much progress. Reader always suggested that it was because she wasn't a child, which was when it was easiest to learn, but that didn't make Emma feel better.
"There," Emma announced as she finished writing out the last letter, "done." She pushed the paper over to Reader for him to look at. He picked it up and quickly glanced over it with a smile.
"Well," he began, "it was better than the previous ones. You only wrote three letters backwards this time. That's an improvement."
Emma let out a frustrated sigh and put her head on the table. "I give up. Don't you have papes to sell or something?"
"Papers," Reader corrected," and I already finished. You really are doing better, Emma." Reader patted her on the back in an attempt to make her feel better.
Emma let out a harsh laugh and muttered sarcastically, "Sure I am…"
"Hey now, what happened to the Emma I met who beat up that prick, huh? She was a fighter. She wouldn't give up." She still didn't move, giving Reader a sneaking suspicion that she really couldn't care less about what he was saying. "How about we move on to reading? We'll probably be able to finish up that story today."
Emma immediately perked up. He had to hand it to her: while she may not have been a kid, she was certainly as easy to entertain as one. She liked reading, even if it was difficult for her to catch on. Two brothers, of whom Emma forgot the names of, had written the story they had been working on. The Brothers Timm… No, that's not right… The Brothers Flymm… Something like that. Reader had told her once before, but it always seemed to slip her mind.
While, Emma wasn't too fond of the girl in the story, Snow White, she did enjoy being whisked off into that world created by the two brothers. Snow White was stupid, in her opinion. When someone warns you not to open the door to anyone while you're alone, you listen. What does Snow White do? She opens it, not just once, but three times. You'd think she'd learn after the first time… On the third time, the evil queen had disguised herself once more and given Snow White a poisoned apple that put her into a deep, unbreakable sleep. The part Emma was working on now was when the prince found her in a glass coffin, and he was now asking the dwarves if he could take it with him to his castle.
Reader looked on with Emma as she slowly worked her way through the story, offering his help whenever she needed it.
She was extremely entertaining to watch when reading. Her tongue would stick out of the corner of her mouth when she was trying to decipher a word, her reaction to every little detail displayed everything she was thinking, and she would add in her occasional commentary, which Reader found amusing since she didn't seem to realize these were stories meant to teach children lessons.
An hour later, Emma found herself sitting on the roof of the lodging house, relaxing and watching the sun set behind the horizon. She had discovered this place not too long after she moved into the lodging house and found it was a nice place to unwind and think.
Despite not talking to her, the newsies were a loud, rambunctious group of kids. It was a change from what she had become accustomed to back home where everyone spoke in hushed tones and went about their day in silence, for fear of being punished. Emma welcomed the change, yet found herself longing to be a part of it, to be a kid again. However, the only newsies she knew were Spot and Reader. The others seemed to avoid her like the plague.
So to evade that longing, she went to the roof, away from the commotion. It was easier that way. She wouldn't even have to deal with it much longer. Her brother was probably already on his way to retrieve her.
The door behind Emma opened and closed as Spot stepped up beside her. A cigarette dangled between the fingers of his left hand, and smoke floated from his mouth. She nodded to him in acknowledgement and then went back to staring off in the distance.
"Aren't you supposed to be with Reader?" came Spot's accusatory tone. He leaned against the ledge, facing Emma.
"We finished early," she replied, curtly. Did you just come up here to irk me? For a moment, a part of her wondered how her brother could be a friend with such a pompous, controlling person.
An awkward silence fell between them as each tried to think of something to say. Not that Emma really cared to talk to him. He hadn't made an effort to be kind to her, so why should she do the same? All he ever managed to do was get her riled up- something he seemed to enjoy.
"How are things going?" he finally asked, trying to sound interested, but it just came off in the same bored tone he always used with his newsies. All he received in response was a shrug, sending a small flare of anger through him. Nobody, especially a girl, had expressed as much disinterest in him than the girl beside him. While he wouldn't admit it, it took a blow to his pride. He was used to being respected and revered, not someone who could be easily pushed aside.
Still, Spot took Reader's advice and tried to make small talk to make her feel more comfortable. "You enjoying it here in Brooklyn?"
She looked at him out of the corner of her eye for a second and curtly answered, "I suppose. It just gets boring. It feels like everyone is avoiding me." Spot wondered if she knew that he had told his newsies to keep their distance for a while until he could be sure she could be trusted.
"How do you know my brother?" Finally, Emma was the one to break the silence this time, and she didn't even say it like she was annoyed. Spot smirked as he realized he was slowly making progress.
The smirk grew into an actual smile as he remembered the first time he had met Tommy. "We shared the same cell in the refuge for a while. He looked after me like I was his kid brother. Eventually he managed to find an escape, and he busted me out as well."
Emma glanced over at Spot, who was now looking out over his kingdom. The air of superiority had waned a bit, revealing just a small piece of the boy underneath. "Hmm, he never told me he was in the refuge."
Spot laughed a little. "Yeah, it's probably not something he wanted to share with you. He's not proud of it. Apparently he woiked for some messed up guy who wanted him to kill this one important person." Spot seemed to shrug it off as if it were nothing.
Emma nodded absently as she remembered her father being upset when her brother hadn't returned from his task. "Sounds like my dad," she mumbled and received a curious look from Spot, as if he was asking her to elaborate. She took a deep breath. Well, I guess he would've found out sooner or later. "He worked for my dad. That was the last time my dad saw Tommy. I'm guessing that he went into hiding after he broke out…" She said that last part to herself. It made sense. Emma hadn't seen him for a whole entire year, and then he shows up in the middle of the night just to see her. Ever sense then, they had met secretly whenever Emma had a break from training.
"I've heard a lot of stories about messed up families, but yours blows everyone else's out of the water. So that's why your brother brought you here, to get you away from him?"
Within seconds, tears sprung up to Emma's eyes as her thoughts taunted her. She shook her head. "No," came her meek reply.
If Spot's attention hadn't been caught before her small story, it definitely was now. It was a bit shocking to see someone crying. His newsies never shed a single tear. They took pride in being tough, and to them, crying showed a sign of weakness.
As quickly as the tears had sprung up, they went away as Emma composed herself. She rarely allowed herself to cry, and she'd be damned if she lost it in front of Spot. She could feel Spot's gaze on her, patiently waiting to hear what had brought her to Brooklyn.
Emma stood in the center of the room, facing the unidentified man who was gagged and tied up to a chair. His eyes spoke of the terror he was feeling, but Emma just ignored it. This was her last session before she was sent on her first task, and she believed it to be a game. That's what her father told her, and she willingly believed him. She believed he was rewarding her for her hard work.
Her father stood in the corner of the room, watching his daughter with great pride. He and his colleagues had trained her ever since she could walk. Instead of teaching her how to read or write, they used those parts of her brain to read people's body language and predict their next move. Emma wouldn't be the disappointment her brother was. She was farther advanced, and she was the first of many to come.
Emma looked over her shoulder at her father, who promptly gave her the go-ahead to start. She sprang into action and began attacking the man, who tried to squirm away. Blow by blow, they man gradually weakened, but the fear remained until the light left his eyes. Immediately, Emma stopped, her eyes wide and sparkling with tears. Realization hit her, and she saw death as the man saw it: terror, and then nothing. She looked down at her shaking, bloody hands before looking over at her father, who was beaming with pride.
Within seconds, Emma launched herself onto her father in rage, while also knocking down the oil-lit lamp, and started beating him so that he would understand the rage and sadness she felt until she witnessed death for a second time. She sat there for what seemed like hours as flames consumed the area around her.
The door to the room burst open, and her brother ran in as terrified screams echoed in her ears.
"Emma, we need to get out of here, this place is about to go down," he yelled, but Emma never moved. Tears streamed down her face as she continued to stare down at her hands in horror. How had she done that? It didn't make sense. Why had her father trained her to kill? She was now a monster.
As soon as Tommy realized she wasn't going anywhere, he came up from behind her and picked her up, immediately sprinting out of the raging inferno that used to be their house.
Emma finished up her story, and looked down at her feet, blinking away the tears that had reappeared. Spot remained silent, and just stared at the girl in front of him. He would've never picked her out as a killer. A part of him sympathized with her. She was just like him and his newsies: a kid forced to grow up before her time.
She wasn't alone. It wasn't uncommon for newsies to have blood on their hands, and Spot remembered the horrible feeling he had after the first time he had ever killed someone.
Finally, Emma mustered up the courage to speak. "I understand if you don't want me to stay here anymore-"
Spot couldn't help but laugh. She really thought she would be kicked out for that? "Emma, you can stay here. It's fine."
With that, Spot left Emma on the roof as he went back inside, and Emma couldn't help but feel they had reached a point of tolerance.
Sorry that one took a little longer to get posted, but on the bright side, it's longer than all of the other chapters! Hahaha, anyways I will try my best to get the next chapter up as soon as possible. Hell week (aka tech week) for the musical is all next week, and then the show opens up that Friday, but after that, I'll actually have the weekdays to write. So hopefully I'll be able to get more chapters up around that time.
P.S.- I know the whole secret organization thing has been done loads of times, but don't worry. It is only meant to be part of the past. It won't pop up again. I have something else in mind for this story!
Please review!