So this took a while. I must have deleted the entire thing and rewrote at leats six times. Oh well! Here it is.
Spot woke up slowly, blinking the world into focus. He was on a small, dirty bed in a long room with many other small, dirty beds. He groaned quietly as the pain in his head hit him like a train. He tried to sit up, but gave up as the pain intensified.
"Sitting still is what's best for you." A small voice piped up. Spot looked around, noticing for the first time that some of the other beds had boys in them. The one talking had a black eye, a clearly broken nose, and bruises on every part of him that was visible. "You'se got soaked good by da Spidah. You'se is gonna be in here for a while."
"Wha...what do ya mean?"
"Da Spidah, Snyder, he soaked ya, beat ya up, real good, so you'se is gonna be in here, da sick room, for a while."
"Did someone save me from da man with da cane?"
"No, da man with da cane is Snyder da Spidah, an' he runs dis place. Da Refuge." The boy shuddered, which caused him to wince with pain as it shifted a bandaged arm. "Da name's Scape, by da way. I'se got caught right before you'se. My fourth time almost escaping', cept he caught me again. Right 'fore he threw you'se in da back. You was awake at first, you was cryin', but den ya jist stopped and glared at me, an' den ya blacked out. I ain't-" A door swung open and Scape fell silent. A small boy slipped in, looking around furtively.
"Scape!" He hissed. "I'se got some food an' watah for da newb, like you'se asked. An' I'se got some food for you'se, too." Scape relaxed. He gestured with his head for the boy to leave the food on the beds.
"Tanks, Goat. I know ya can't do it every day, but...as often as possible?" Goat nodded energetically.
"I'se got myself kitchen duty dis week, since I knowed you was gonna try ta escape again. I kin do dis mebee every other day." Goat handed a piece of bread and a small cup of water to Scape then turned and offered the same to Spot. "So, newb, if ya ain't figured it out yet, I'se is Goat. Who is you'se?"
"I'se is Spot Conlon." Spot slowly lifted the cup to his mouth, nearly spitting out the first mouthful. The "water" was rancid, oily and nasty smelling.
"You'se got folks?" Spot could feel tears want to start, but suppressed them, choosing instead to glare at Goat. Goat responded as though the glare was a physical force, stepping backwards and holding his hands up as if to ward off a blow.
"Ah! Don't do dat! Dat's...dat's a real...scary glare! You'se look like you'se is plannin' ta soak me!" Spot allowed the glare to melt into a smirk. Intimidation was not a strategy he'd tried on the streets, but it seemed to work. Maybe he'd have to keep using it. But for now, all he wanted was to get some food in his stomach and sleep until the pain in his head went away. He forced himself to take another drink of the filthy water, and choked down his piece of hard bread. The food wasn't good, but it would at least fill his stomach. Goat watched him eat as if he was waiting to see if Spot would glare again. "How old is you?"
"Seven." Spot answered shortly.
"Really? I'se is seven two! Only...I'se been in da refuge for six months. I got caught stealin' bread. Why is you in here?"
"I pickpocketed da Spidah. Only, I'se didn't know it was da Spidah den. Den he hit me wid his cane, an' here I is." Spot closed his eyes as a fresh wave of pain rolled through his small body. Scape saw him wince.
"Goat, I'se tink Spot is tired. Mebee ask Hic fer a blanket so he's kin sleep a little?" Goat looked disappointed, but went off to find Hic.
"So, Spot. Ya need ta git ta know how tings work here. One, Minch. He's da tyrant. Either you'se join him when ya gits here, or you'se is hated by him till ya leave. Goat an' me ain't joinin' him, so if ya don't, ya kin be wid us. Den dere's duties. Goat is either on kitchen or dorm duty, which means he either cleans da dorms or worked in da kitchen ta clean up messes dere. I'se is always on dorm duty, 'cause dey tink it'll be harder fer me ta escape. You'sell probably be kitchen or dorm too, since you'se is little. But if dey like ya, if you'se listen good ta da wardens, den ya might one day be promoted ta windows or yard, an' da goils-"
"Dere's goils here?"
"Yep. Dey's got three dorm rooms ta demselves, plus if dey need isolation. Anyways, deys usually is only here fer a little while. But deys work like maids, cleanin' da Spidah's office an' mendin' clothes dat never see our backs, but deys mend 'em anyway." Goat slipped back into the room, clutching a small, dirty bundle.
"Scape! I'se got a blanket from Hic! Is Spot asleep?" Spot took the chance to close his eyes before Goat looked at him. "Oh! He falled asleep fast!"
"Jist put da blanket over him. I tink he's gonna be our friend, Goat! I tink he's not gonna be wid Minch!"
"Well I'se hope so, afta I risked my skin ta git him food an' even a blanket!" Spot felt a thin weight drape over his body. "Mebee he's kin help us git rid of Minch!"
"Mebee, Goat. Mebee." Spot felt himself drift into real sleep as the quiet conversation continued around him. Despite his surroundings, despite the fact he was in a place of torture, he felt safe. For the first time since he was five, his sleep had no nightmares. He slept soundly, a sleep of exhaustion and of pain, but a sleep of rest all the same.