New York, 1890s on the train

The landscape was blurry through my dark eyelashes. Tears streamed down my face in a salty stream of memories. A lump I was unable to swallow had lodged itself in my throat.

"So where ya headed" The kid turned to me and saw me in my pitiful state. "Hey wats wrong" he took me in his arms and I was unable to answer, I was lost in my own thoughts. Circling round and round on the memory merry go round.

New York, 1889 Whisper

"Kids? Fred's about to come pick me up and I wanted to make sure Sketchy was alright. Do yea know where she went off to"

"Upstairs, I think."

"No, downstairs"

Ruth sighed in exasperation and went to the staircase. She found Sketchy curled up in a ball with bruises all over her arms. She clutched her chest and sank down on her knees next to hear. "What happened" She barely whispered. "Do you need Fred to help, he used to have a very close friend who was a wide known doctor. He taught Fred a lot. Fred! Come here"

"I'm fine" She assured Ruth.

"Nonsense! Fred"

"What's happened" Asked Fred, gazing at her arms as if already knowing where the bruises would be.

"Tell us, darlin', how did this happen" Sketchy looked at Fred, his cold eyes shooting darts at her. He seemed to be warning her to keep her mouth shut.

"Stairs, I feel down them." Ruth nodded, clearly willing to accept this answer.

"Yea have to be careful" She went on about the safety precautions she should take and that she should have cried out for help. After all this she finally got up off the ground and with a few goodbyes was shoved out the door by Fred. She didn't seem to notice.

Whisper and Spot ran to her, demanding an explanation.

"He... he hit me! Fred hit me." Spot gaped at her.

"That bastard! I'll kill him, choke him to death, throw 'em off da Brooklyn Bridge" Sketchy laughed through her tears while Whisper just cried.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't know he'd hurt you if I left..." She broke into tears pressing her red crumpled face against Sketchy's and explaining to the both of them, for the first time, what had actually happened that night at dinner. Sketchy looked Whisper in the eye and Spot stood, unable to do anything but listen to them and realize how truly blind they all must have been.

"I know I should have told you. I'm sorry Sketchy if I hadn't left the table that night he wouldn't have hurt you." Teardrops fell from her cheeks. Sketchy wiped them away with her thumb, assuring Whisper he was a sick man and would have hurt them anyway. She was young and yet very wise. Too wise.

"Guys... what if he tries to hurt..." His voice cracked "Mommy" The girls faces drained to the color of starch white sheets. They decided, after a bit, that they would tell her right away. Hopefully she realized her purse was missing. Because it was. Sketchy sprinted out of the room and Whisper gripped Spot's hands shakily. Telling him he was the best big brother in the world. He blushed and mumbled something back.

"You go this way, I'll go that way. Tell me if ya found her" Whisper nodded and set off to do what her big brother wished her to do. Down a dark hallway she walked cautiously when suddenly a small firm hand grasped her and pulled her into the closet. She was about to release the pent up air in her lungs when Sketchy peered at her eagerly and hushed her. She let out a sigh of relief.

"Sketch what"Whisper began

"Its Fred! He's" The door creaked open and Sketchy grew silent and pale. Looking wide eyed at the door.

"I'm what girls" The door shut behind him.

The girls tried biting, scratching, hitting, spitting, hair pulling. And each time Fred would knock them down to the ground. Laughing as if it had only been a pesky annoyance rather than actual hurting. Finally after many times of knocked down they let themselves go. They went deep inside themselves and did not dare come out. They left with Fred's parting words.

"If you tell anyone, I'll hurt your mother. Bad" Whisper silently sobbed and went into the deep recesses of her soul. Awaiting the visions that patiently sat there.

Is this a dream? Whisper thought as she took in the low auditorium lights and a somewhat familiar stage. She could see devilish halos of smoke surrounding the audience. This was almost like one of those day dreams she was used to but much, much, more vivid. As she watched the vision play out before her eyes she felt as if she had aged at least ten years, if not in body then in mind, and she understood all that as before her and what must be happening to her. She was no longer a little girl, confused by what was happening to her, she was a young woman, and she was hiding from it, and so it would remain that she would always be more wise and a little more knowing than her fellow 6 year olds. For the time being anyway. Her mom had taught her about magic when she was very young and Whisper recalled what her mother had called a vision. This must be one. There were 2 girls on stage, and, with a shock, Whisper realized it was her and Sketchy...she ceased to think and watched this scene of her life play before her eyes... She was singing with Sketchy. People clapped and applauded. They were older in her dream, and they had obtained curves. Especially Sketchy. She was wearing a V neck dress that revealed her cleavage shamelessly. There was a long slit that went up to her knees. The dress seemed to hug her voluptuous curves. Her wild hair was all curls, her eyes bright green and twinkling as they always had. A pink blush that never seemed to fade stained her cheeks and she looked gorgeous. Whisper herself had long blonde hair piled into a messy bun. Her eyes shone and were discernible in the lights as they devoured the emotions of all those around her. She wore a bright red dress that seemed to be painted on her slim body. She showed off her legs with slits higher than those of Sketchy. The audience loved her despite her lacking in chest. On her lips was a seductive grin painted with bright red lipstick.
Whisper melted into the angelic voices she realized were her own and Sketchy's. The lights began to dim and a faint piano could be heard over the murmurs and catcalls of the all male audience. A deep voice began to sing of, what whisper gathered to be, lost love. As Whisper listened she had the oddest sensation of understanding. As if she knew what it was hat they were singing about. She knew no age, only love. And it filled her with joy and pain so great she thought she would burst...another voice, higher this time, sang along. The purity and soul of the higher and deeper tones struck the audience dumb. The lights came on and Whisper saw her older self draped on top of the piano, Sketchy playing it beautifully. Even as the song ended the dream went on... much to Whisper's delight.
"Spell" a male voice called offstage. A look of sheer happiness lit up her face. Is my name spellWhisper thought She guessed it must be. Suddenly all questions running through her mind came to an abrupt halt. A young man ran toward Spell. Time froze. His hair was brown, he had beautiful caramel eyes. A cute pick mouth and a tan face. A cowboy hat hung down his back and he wore a trademark red bandana and a rope for a belt.
Are we just friends? Whisper thought. Hoping with everything in her that they weren't. He smiled, as if hearing her thoughts.
"Jack" Cried Spell jumping into his waiting arms. He covered her mouth with his and spell accepted, running her long slender fingers through his hair.
Guess not.
Gently he set her down, his hands still holding her waist, warmth shining in his eyes. "Ready ta go" Jack asked softly. Spell shook her head.
"I hafta get changed."
"Lemme help" he suggested. Spell smacked him playfully, leaving him staring after her. Whisper, still detached from that fanciful thing people called age, and understanding with every fibre in her being the wisdom of love and the way that one who was in love always had a certain aura around them and a new warmth in their eyes... all this she saw in Jack's eyes as he watched Spell...
He's in love... with me.
Giggles suddenly interrupted her thoughts Sketchy was in the arms of a cute guy with tousled blonde hair and pretty blue eyes. Correction; eye. His other eye had an eyepatch on it. The two looked absurdly happy. Sketchy got up and went to change. ...

Spell was now dressed in a clingy blouse and a red skirt. Sketchy had a looser blouse and a black skirt.
"So, its pretty obvious you love Jack." Spell sighed deeply and a dreamy look came into her eyes. She nodded.
"Its like, when Im with him, its magic. My stomach flips over and I feel like im invincible! Its beautiful... but so scary." Whisper knew what it felt like when the storms came and you felt a bone quivering tremble in your joints and a fear swelling up in your chest like a balloon about to explode. But this... what she felt now... was far more scarier... Sketchy seemed to understand also.
"I can relate."
"Your in love with him" She asked breathlessly. Sketchy nodded and then they were both dancing and prancing around and giggling like two young girls.
"Thats amazin" Sketchy stopped, and Whisper watched as a pain so great filled her eyes.
"I bet Ruth would be surprised huh? Do you think she would have liked the way he turned out? The way we turned out" Spell's face darkened and she held Sketchy. Lines suggesting sadness, that Whisper hadn't taken not of before seemed to deepen in their faces.
"Im sure of it." Whisper was unable to comprehend why they were using past tense when they talked about Ruth. and She wanted to know more! Her body and mind began to reconnect, her vision darkened and faded to nothing.
:

She woke to find Sketchy next to her, huddled in the darkness.. They both cried.