A/N Hey guys! So chapter is dedicated to MusicRox1610. Hope you like it!
Chapter 9
Runaway
~*~ Brooklyn~*~
The rising afternoon sun in the sky woke me up as it illuminated the city, at least from the tiny window in my "room" it did.
I heard footsteps outside my door and a moment later a key jiggled in the lock and the door swung open.
Spot walked in with two crusts of bread, and handed one to me.
I put it on the floor, refusing to eat anything else from this boy.
You know, a hunger strike might not be a bad idea! I thought to myself.
"Ain't youse goin' to eat it?" he asked, irritated after he had gone to all the trouble of ordering one of the smaller boys get something for her and then brought it up.
I glared at him, my brown eyes filled with unspoken rage. I felt like a bird, but a tropical one that was not meant to be caged up. But I was in Brooklyn now, and Brooklyn's property even though I wanted to smack myself for thinking that.
"I guess not then. Your welcome by the way"
"What are you going to do to me?" I asked. It was a question that had plagues my mind since the night before.
"That's for me to know." He answered shortly as if he had rehearsed what he would say if I asked that question.
"Why did you'se stay?"
"Heroism." I answered just as shortly as he did. "This could have been my chance to prove I could do something. To be brave, set an example. Not just stand there and wait for someone to get hurt. Maybe I could even stop this war. But why did you want to take me when you found out it was me?" I asked cautiously. I didn't know if I was on thin ice or not and I did not want Spot to get angry again. That was not a fun experience.
Spot walked over to the bench in my room and sat down, taking his time to get comfortable and arrange his thoughts. As he sat down I scooted as far away as I could from him cautious not to fall off the
"C'mon! Look I'se won't touch youse, but if you don't get ovah heah I ain't goin' to tell youse why I took you!"
I slowly scooted back over but still kept my distance.
"Brooklyn and Bronx are at war, but as you'se may know, no one wanted ta made da foist move. So when I'se saw you'se, I though you'se could be valuable. Remember what I said last night about da chess game? Well you'se is da queen, and da best way ta take down da emery is by capturing da Queen. Bronx would do anything ta get you'se back. But I didn't know you'se was Luciano's sister. Otherwise I'se would ave done dis a long time ago's." "Follow me's." he said as he got up from the bench.
"Ise goin' to carry the bannah. Matches and Watch will stay here with you today. They won't hoit youse."
I had remembered Matches from the night before, and he seemed nice enough, but I had no idea who his Watch was, and I had hoped he wasn't on of the boys who was close to Stirker.
"Well what am I supposed to do all day?" I asked as I followed him into the hallway hurrying to keep up with him.
"Like I care" Spot smirked, "Clean, cook, whatever goils are good for. Besides sleepin' with, that is"
He grinned and sauntered down the stairs. He laughed as he was the disgust and discomfort in my eyes.
"Look, go anywhere you'se want, just stay away from da third floor."
"Why? What's up there-"
"It's forbidden!" he shouted at me. There was that temper again. He glared at me once more, and left to sell the afternoon edition. I thought to myself that I might as well get something done and so I went into what appeared to be a kitchen and filled a wooden bucket up with water. I figured I would do what Spot told me and I begun to clean the floors of the warehouse; it was not like I couldn't. I cleaned the lodging house in the Bronx all the time. Thinking about that made me feel lonely, lost and most of all sad. Who knows when the next time I was going to see my friends and family would be. I didn't know what Luciano was going to do, but I knew he was going to strike soon, fast and hard. And then I thought about Spot, and how all of this was his fault.
"Arrogant, pompous, no good…" I proceeded to call off every bad name and insult I knew in Italian, but stopped when I heard someone clear their throat behind me. Thinking it was Spot, I immediately stopped what I was doing and froze where I was.
"You really shouldn't be saying that. If he heard you, well, I don't even want to think about what would happen if he heard youse."
I breathed out a sigh of relief as I realized it wasn't Spot. This boy's voice was lighter and he had an English accent. I turned around and there stood a boy who looked my age or a year older with short hair he color of mahogany, a pocket watch twirling on the end of a chain in his hands.
I glared at him, "I don't care." Well, that was the biggest lie I have ever told.
He stared down sheepishly, "Well, my name's Henry, but everyone calls me Watch."
Noticing his watch once more I slightly rolled my eyes and mumbled "I wonder why?"
Not noting my sarcasm, he explained to me his watch was the only thing left of his parents he remembered. They could not afford to feed him, so he ran away from England and came to New York.
"Look that's a real nice story, but I don't know what I am supposed to do all day? Being a hostage isn't too appealing. Hey! I have an idea! How about you let me go back to the Bronx and we pretend this whole thing never happened? Okay?"
Watch laughed, "Yeah, okay, and let Spot kill me? No thank you. Why don't you finish cleaning like he said?"
"Alright, but I don't know my way around."
"Well we can show you!" I turned around and say Matches coming from around the corner. I smiled and put the dirty rag I found back in the wooden bucket. I got up and followed the two boys into the common room. They were explaining to me where everything was. We got to the first floor and they showed me one of the bunkrooms. I had seen this floor since it was the one where my dudgeon/room was. We got to the second floor where there was another bunkroom and what appeared to be a washroom. I peered down the end of a long hallway and noticed there was a small narrow flight of stairs
"Whats down here?" I asked
"Oh nothing-it's nothing." Watch said as he grabbed one of my arms to prevent me from walking towards the door.
"Just an empty storage room, nothing to see, nothing important."
"Well if it's nothing and not important, then it's shouldn't matter."
"Look Bell," Matches said. "Why don't we go back downstairs and see what work we could find to do?"
Reluctantly I let them lead me away, but not before I formed a plan. I was going back up here tonight.
The hours flew by when I was cleaning the warehouse. With Matches and Watches help everything went by faster, but it was still grueling work. I could tell the warehouse had not been cleaned in sometime, due to the layers of dust and cobwebs all around. But we washed the windows, scrubbed the floors and I even got the boys to help me in the washroom. We even went into town to get some ingredients for me to make bread for the boys.
Slowly throughout the day the Brooklyn newsies had dribbled in the warehouse, but most were still gone. I had later learned the boys liked to go swimming and would usually stay out until after dark, which was the case this evening.
When most of the boys were back, I broke the bread for them, and they went to their bunkrooms or common room to either rest or play poker. Spot wasn't back yet, so I took the opportunity and slipped up to the second floor. I carefully made my way down the long hallway and came to the narrow staircase. I compensated weather or not this was a good idea, briefly weighed the pros and cons, but I let my curiosity get the better of me, and I began to climb the steps.
I got to the top and was greeted by a large wooden door. I reached for the handle and pushed and was completely shocked to find upon turning the handle that the door opened.
I gasped, wondering why it wasn't locked. By the way Watch and Matches talked about this place, it seemed like no one was allowed in there.
I pulled the door open a bit, peeking out into the room. I pushed to door open to its full capacity and examined the contents of the spacious room. It was darker lit than the hallway, large drapes were pulled in front of the windows and I went over to one pulling it back revealing the moonlight to shine in the room adding some light. I walked farther into the room walking in some cobwebs and tripping over a table once, but I finally made it to the other side. There was a desk and an elegant chair to match and for a moment I was confused. Why would this be in a newsie warehouse?
I cautiously moved towards the desk, coming around it to get a better look at the painting but something distracted me. On the desk lay a key covered in dust on the surface of a white piece of paper. I picked it up and rubbed the dirt off with my finger. It looked so familiar, but could not put my finger on it. I gazed back to the surface of the desk and picked up the piece of paper. I unfolded it careful not to rip I and read inside. In lovely loopy handwriting a small note read,
"Adam, I am sorry I am no longer allowed to see you. It breaks my heart knowing I will never see my best friend again. I'm sorry."
And it was signed with Ellie.
I placed the not back on the desk and looked up and behind the desk to the right of another drape covered window hung what appeared to be a painting. I walked towards it, careful to avoid squeaky floorboards.
I stood in front of the painting, curiously glancing at the smiling faces encased within. There were three of them, all arranged in a pose that clearly resembled a family portrait.
At the head of the picture stood a sturdy looking man, his dark mustache and deep eyes commanding power and respect. To his left stood a petit woman with fair hair and a kind smile. Below them was a young child, both their hands on his shoulders. The boy looked to be in his early teens, but possibly younger. He was small, but looked more of an older boy. He had dirty blond hair and eyes with incredible depth for a boy his age. He was a clear spitting image of his father and there was no doubt in my mind just who he was. Those eyes were something I would never forget.
I looked curiously at the boy in the portrait. He seemed lighter in the picture, almost happy; there was a passion in his eyes, a light that had long since burnt out.
My mind was reeling as I looked at the painting in detail. The frame and even some of the painting was tarnished and blackened as if it was set aflame. I skimmed the frame that held the painting. At the bottom, written in thin cursive letters were the words To: Adam.
I blinked.
Adam.
That was his name, the "beast" that held me here. Spot's real name.
Knowing this made him a fraction more human than he had been the night before. I glanced around, moving to a bookshelf on the opposite wall as I realized this room was very personal to him and that I probably should not be here.
I decided to skim the shelf quickly for a book to read and be on my way.
My eyes glistened with delight as I realized just how many books there were. I brightened, reading titles, running my fingertips along the spines gently as I curiously peered back at the painting.
My breath caught in my throat as I felt a strong hand grasp my upper arm roughly and push me forward into the book shelf. I felt someone's hot breath on the back of my neck as they pressed my body roughly into the shelf.
"What are you'se doin ere?" the voice whispered furiously in my ear. I recognized his angry voice instantly and shuttered, realizing I should have never came in here.
"N-Nothing-I," I stuttered unintelligibly.
"I'se told you'se ta stay off da third floor," his voice rose quickly as he spoke and by the time he had finished he was screaming at me.
"You'se are never ta come in ere!" he roared, grabbing me and spinning me roughly to face him, throwing my back quickly into the bookshelf. The air was momentarily knocked from me and I gasped as I stared at him with wide, scarred eyes.
I swallowed, finding just an ounce of courage within me. I narrowed my eyes. "Well maybe if you let me have some freedom and didn't keep me locked up like a caged animal, I wouldn't have come here! I'm a human being, not a dog! Maybe if I was in the Bronx-"I yelled back, but never finished for I felt the sting on the side of my face before I saw it coming. My head turned sharply as I cried out in surprise as he lowered his hand, still breathing deeply with anger.
My hand flew to my cheek, holding the burning flesh as I turned my head to glare at him, hurt filling my eyes.
Not even my own father had ever struck me, and I had to admit that the emotional wound was slightly more painful than the physical one. Never have I been more scared of Spot then I was in that moment. He had hurt me before, but in no level compared to this.
"GO!" He yelled at me. "Get out of here!"
I had never seen him so angry and I just could not take the shouting anymore.
"Go!"
I ran passed him and out of the room tripping down the narrow stairs as I ran from the room leaving him there. I ran down the hall of the second floor down the stairs to the first and repeated until I was in the common room still running.
I passed through the entranceway of the warehouse and shivered as a gust of cold air hit my skin. I turned towards the draft curiously, shocked to find the front door open just a crack, the howling night winds pushing their way in.
I stopped in my tracks.
The door was open. It was so close.
He wasn't there to stop me.
I could leave. I could escape this place right now.
I couldn't stop myself from wondering what would happen if he caught me, from imagining how his temper would flare out of control.
But if he didn't.
I could be free of this place, be with my brother again, not worried about being used as a bartering chip against him. I could escape the pain and hell he had caused me. I could have a life again.
I only let myself think about how happy I would be before lunging for the door without another thought.
I sprinted out the door and back down the long docks of Brooklyn. I shivered in the cold night wearing only the dress he gave me, but I didn't care, I was free, free of the warehouse, free of him. All I had to do was keep running, running until I made it to the Bronx, ran into someone who could help me, where I could make my way home.
I shivered again as a gust of wind cut through my skin and I kept running into the dark expanse of the city, not looking back until I was out of breath and had put enough distance between myself and hell that I felt safe enough to slow to a brisk walk.
My breath came out in spurts in front of me, and I could see it the fog like reaction, materialize in the cool night air. I glanced around the dark city, jumping ever so slightly at the rustle rats in someone's garbage or the sound of an alley cat's screech or the howl or bark of a junkyard dog. I had always been wasy to scare and after my recent experiences I was more jumpy than ever.
I walked on a while longer before I heard the distant sound of men talking and my heart leapt. I hadn't expected to come upon help this quickly and raced towards the distant mumble of voices.
There were three men crowded outside of a pub around a horse pulling a cart. They were lounging around passing a bottle between them.
They looked up as I ran towards them, confusion etched on their faces. They looked at one another, raising their eyebrows in speculation before back at me.
"Hello there Missy, what in God's name are you doing all the way out here this time of night?" One of the men asked, taking another long drink from the nearly empty bottle as he eyed me curiously. He was tall, well built with dark hair and a bowler's hat that shaded his eyes. He seemed to me to be the man in charge, as the others watched his every move to see what he would do.
I breathed quickly as I cautiously stepped closer. "Please, I need your help," I breathed. "I'm trying to get home to the Bronx. Please Is there anyways you could help me?"
"We have places to be, girl, we can't very well stop and pick up someone we meet and drive them all over New York," he mused, leaning against the side of the cart.
"Please," I protested. "You don't understand, I have been held here against my will and I am-"
I was cut off by a roar of laughter. "Trying to get home." the same man chuckled. "We've heard this story all before."
"Perhaps we can give you a hand, for the right price."
"But I haven't anything to give you, I ran away and I—"
He stepped forward, closing the space between us. "I'm sure we could work something out," he insisted, his eyes wondering my body before meeting my frightened gaze once more. He reached forward to run the back of his hand across the side of my face.
"What's a pretty little thing like you really doing out here all alone," he asked, one of his hands gripping my arm tightly.
"I told you—" I said trying to slink away from his touch.
"Well I'll tell you what, have a little fun with me and my boys and we'll take you where you need to go," he persuaded, his hand running the length of my body.
I shook my head, shoving him as hard as I could away from me.
He gripped my arm tighter, chuckling darkly. "She's feisty, boys," he called and they laughed in return, each of them stepping closer, surrounding me as they gazed at me with animalistic eyes.
"No," I breathed. "Please, let me go, forget this. I'll find my own way. Stop it, you can't do this, stop!" I protested, kicking the man holding me as hard as I could.
"Bitch," he yelled, pulling me closer to him, his grasp becoming harder as his lips trailed down my cheek.
Another one of the man pulled at my dress and I stumbled trying to fight him off as well, landing on the hard cold damp street. I pushed myself onto my hands and knees and flipped over so I was sitting on my rear, my elbows supporting me.
I saw the man in the hat remove it from his head "I get her first," he growled, advancing on me. I tried scooting away, but he was too quick. He was atop of me, his hands resting on my shoulders as I trembled beneath him.
"More than one of us can have her at a time, Bill," another argued.
"I want her first," he growled, pushing my shoulders down so I was lying on the pavement.
"Jesus Christ!" One of the men yelled from where they stood watching.
He was holding his jaw tenderly, a shocked expression on his face as he gazed towards the street. I tried to look but I could not see anyone. Not a second later the other man let out a painful cry and gripped his arm. I swore I heard a faint clink ground as if glass had fallen. I listened and heard footsteps. I looked passed the man on top of me and emerging from the fog of the night was Spot, slingshot in his hand.
His fists were clenched so tightly his knuckles were white, and his jaw set in the familiar tight line I was so used to when his temper flared. He was breathing deeply and his stance suggested pure rage.
He turned towards the man that had been trying to attack me and spat in clear and concise words,
"Let er go."
"It's none of your business boy, be on your way," the man argued.
"She is my business. You have no idea the power I have. Ever hoid a' Spot Conlon?"
I noticed one of the men stiffen as he still held his jaw, a welt starting to form.
Well, I'se is da King a Brooklyn, an if you'se don't let er go, you'se have no idea what you'se is getting yourself into." he warned darkly.
"Go to Hell," the man replied simply, turning on me once again. I cringed away from him, trying with all my might to crawl away from him.
The truth was I didn't know which outcome was better for me. If I stayed here, I would endure an unbearable amount of pain and humiliation at the hands of these three strangers, but just maybe keep my freedom. If I left with Spot again, it was back to a life of captivity and I would no doubt have to answer to him and to the unbearable rage in his eyes for what I had done.
"Take care of him" the man nodded to his men before grabbing for me again as I rolled away from him.
"Sit still bitch," he roared, endless in his pursuits.
I still struggled as the sounds of fighting were going on near us. I tried, but couldn't see what was happening. I could hear grunting, flesh hitting flesh, swearing and cries of pain and anger, but my only concern was to try to get away from this man, and maybe by some miracle escape this scene all together.
He had come out here to save me, and was now going to pay the ultimate price for it. I had to do something.
"Stop," I cried. "Stop, please. You can have me, if you let him go," I whispered, not believing the words that were leaving my mouth. There I go again.
The men halted in the actions. There was a long silence of contemplation. I lay there panting on the ground wondering why I had stopped them from hurting Spot. With them doing it, there would be no more war.
"Let him go. Tie her up and get her in the back of the cart. We'll take her with us and have our fun later," the man that was holding me down ordered. He got up pulling me along with him and shoved me backwards into his friends. The two other men grabbed my forearms making it hard to struggle as the man formerly on top of me wrapped a rope around my wrists. I stayed calm, hopefully giving Spot a few moments to do think of something before I started kicking as hard as I could. I caught one man precisely where it hurt and another across the stomach.
I saw Spot grab one man from behind and he raised his arm and brought it down swiftly, bashing his gold tipped cane on his head. The man fell lifeless to the ground as I gasped in horror.
Spot took advantage of the shock of the moment and grabbed another man, wrapping his arms around his neck holding his came up again "Let her go and get lost or he gets it too," he threatened.
They released me, and Spot wasted no time in grabbing me by the arm and pulling me away from the entire scene fiercely. I tripped, nearly toppling over as I struggled to overcome the pain in my back. I felt my eyelids start to droop and I realized how tired I way and what had almost just happened to me. I began to sway and he grunted in frustration, grabbing me and swooping me into his arms as he carried me bridal style. I wrapped my arms lightly around his neck hands still tied, to keep from falling.
I gazed up at his face, his jaw was rigid as he gazed ahead, and there was fire in his eyes. I noticed his cheek was marked from the fight but that he otherwise seemed fine. I wondered if he was ever really in danger of losing. From the stories I heard, he was not.
I felt like a complete fool. My entire escape had been doomed from the start. What was I thinking? Truth was if it wasn't for him I'd probably be dead.
A cold gust of wind surrounded us and I shivered again I my cold and wet garments as I curled into his warm flesh. I closed my eyes in defeat and surrendered to darkness as Spot trudged through the streets of Brooklyn, me unconscious in his arms.
A/N Hey reader. No Belle is not dead, she just fainted. Haha. Whew, that was pretty intense. I hope you don't mind that I changed the wolves to people, I just don't think there were wolves in Brooklyn 1900. I tried writing the chapter with stray dogs, but it wasn't dramatic enough. So if you haven't made the connection yet I have based Matches and Watch off of Lumiere and Cogsworth. You can't write a Beauty and the Beast story without a likeness of those two characters. So I hope you all enjoyed this story and it would make me so happy if you would review, follow and favorite! Thanks!
