So the flashback in this chapter takes place after the one in chapter 1, right after Jack gets out of the Refuge for the first time.

Jack had never felt such pain. Everytime Snyder snapped his whip, agony surged through his body. But it was nothing compared to his leg. He had never felt anything quite like it. White hot pain shot through his body even thinking about it. He wanted the leg to be gone. He didn't want to feel the pain anymore. He didn't want to feel anything anymore.

Crutchie had stayed with him the entire time, hugging him close to his chest and telling him that it would all be okay. But it won't be, Jack thought. It's hurts so bad, Crutchie. Why won't it stop? He tried to talk to Crutchie, to beg him to make all the pain go away, but all that came out out was a choked sob. He shut his eyes and clutched Crutchie's shirt even tighter.

Jack barely even remembered what happened. He remembered the pain, but he couldn't imagine himself getting beaten. Crutchie said Snyder had broken his leg. He had immediately looked down at it, and Crutchie didn't warn him fast enough. Thank God somebody had covered it with a blanket.

"I c-couldn't look at it. They covered it for me." Jack had tried to reassure him then, but Crutchie had bitterly laughed and lightly nudged him with a blood-stained hand. Even that hurt.

Jack tried to roll over, but Crutchie stopped him.

"C'mon, Jack. It'll only cause more pain," Crutchie said and Jack knew he was probably right, but he was so sick of this position. His wrists were uncomfortably stuck under his chest and the chains were still digging into them. It was getting harder and harder to breathe. His ribs screamed in pain, but he knew Crutchie was right. His back would be even worse.

"Did you clean 'em?" he asked, fearing the answer.

Crutchie nodded. "We did as best we could. We had only a little bit of clean water."

"Alright," he said, slightly relieved, but mostly worried that it would get infected. He drifted off to sleep not too long after that though Crutchie seemed desperate to keep him awake.

Jack limped out of the Refuge. He was a six-year-old without a family or a home. A boy had offered him a chance at, well, something. He had followed with hesitation. He was trailing the behind the boy until he spoke up.

"So, ya just gonna sulk back there the whole time or…" the boy trailed off and paused to let Jack catch up. It took a minute because he was still bruised everywhere and he was panting by the time he pulled up next to the boy. The boy must've seen his pain because he wrapped his arm around Jack.

"Who are ya?" Jack asked, suspiciously.

"Most people call me Spot."

"Spot?" Jack asked, laughing. His eyebrows raised in disbelief.

"Shut up, Kelly," Spot muttered.

Jack stopped. "How do ya knows my name?"

"Everyone who's been in the Refuge in past year knows your name. You was Snyder's favorite. Ya ever notice how when anythin' happened people blamed ya even if ya didn't do it. Snyder liked soakin' ya."

"Where are we goin', anyway?" Jack asked, thinking it was best to keep his mind away from Snyder.

"I don't know. I was following ya."

"How could ya possibly be followin' me? You was in front the entire time."

"I'se joking," Spot said, laughing at Jack. "I guess you'll know when we get there." Jack raised his eyebrows and Spot grabbed him around the shoulder. The two walked in silence though, by the time they stopped, Jack was completely leaning on Spot.

"Welcome to the Manhattan Newsie Lodging House," Spot said, waving his arm towards a large building.

"What is we doin' here? I thought it cost money to live in places like this."

"It does, but they'll cover ya for a couple days and you'll have a job."

"Wh-what if they don't want me?"

Spot laughed. "Just wait out here. I'll be back soon."

He disappeared through the door. Once the door opened, traces of laughter and joyous cries drifted through. The door closed and Jack was left alone on the street. He thought about taking off, but opted for just sitting down. He didn't think he could even walk anyways. A few minutes later, Spot returned with another older boy in tow.

"Jack, Specs. Specs, Jack."

Jack cautiously waved to the older boy, but when Specs reached down to pull him up, he flinched away, backing into Spot. Spot helped him to his feet.

"He just got out a' the Refuge, Specs. He was in there for a year." Specs' eyes widened and he looked down at the little boy who appeared broken in front of him.

"I'se sorry, Jack. I'll warn the others," Specs said and led the two into the building. The three stopped just outside the doors, and Spot grabbed Jack's shoulder.

"I hafta go now. Will ya be okay with Specs?"

Jack nodded, but it wasn't true. He was already shaking by the time Spot was gone. He didn't trust anyone, but at least Spot had helped him a little. He didn't have much time to think about it though because Specs pushed him through the door.

"Hey, boys," Specs said, and whatever else he tried to say was quickly drowned out by the boys yelling.

"Who's that?"

"Specs, guess what we did today!"

"Who's he?"

"Everybody shut up for a second!" Specs shouted and it made Jack visibly flinch. The boys started to calm down after that and stared at Jack. "This is Jack. He's had it rough so everyone's gonna give him space unless he says otherwise. Ya got it?" Everyone in the room nodded and backed away from the new boy. Jack was grateful for the warning, but he felt like he was being singled out. It was like Specs has tattooed vulnerable onto his forehead.

Jack shied away from most of the newsies for the first few weeks. He spent most of his time on the roof and only came down to sell papes. Spot was usually in Brooklyn, but he came down whenever possible to make sure he was settling in okay. Spot never went inside the lodging house but would sit on the roof with the younger boy for hours. The two would just talk until, finally, Spot managed to coax Jack down for a game of cards. At first, he felt trapped, cramped, nauseous, but as the night went on, his chest loosened and he started having fun. He spent more and more time with the other boys after that. Eventually, they began to trust and love him. He had a family; a family that he would do anything for.

A loud cry awoke Jack. His eyes shot open and he tried to sit up. It was a mistake, but the pain cleared his head. Even though it was muffled, he could hear the cry better now and it sounded joyous. Crutchie was up at the window and was pumping his arm up in the air. He looked down and saw Jack.

"Ya hear that, Jack? They won!" He stepped down from the window and held Jack's hand. "They won, and they'se gonna get us out soon."

"How do you know they won?" He hated sounding pessimistic, but he couldn't get his hopes up. Then the door opened, a loud scraping noise that hurt his head. A guard entered and pulled Jack up to his feet. He grabbed Crutchie too and pushed the duo towards the open door. Jack knew they must be a sight to guard had to practically carry Jack while Crutchie did his best to hop on one leg all the way to Snyder's office.

Snyder stood alone in the middle of the office, looking mad and disappointed. "Congratulations, boys," he growled. "You won the strike." Crutchie hugged Jack, this time not bothering to avoid his injuries. Pain flowed through his body, but his happiness overpowered it. Jack held out his chained hands to Snyder, but the man just laughed.

"Not so fast, Kelly. Crutchie is getting out, but you still have to serve out your previous sentence." Jack's eyes widened, and Snyder smiled as he retrieved Crutchie's crutch.

"Get out of here, boy," Snyder growled, thrusting the crutch at Crutchie.

Crutchie reached for Jack. "No, Jack—"

"Now, Crutchie," Jack begged him, looking at the floor. "Please." Crutchie stood stubbornly still until Jack looked up and pushed him towards the door. The younger boy stumbled, then gave Jack one last defeated smile before disappearing.

"Guards," Snyder said as Jack collapsed on the floor with tears burning his eyes, "please escort Mr. Kelly to the basement." An evil laughter echoed throughout the room and Jack tried to fight the men, but he was too weak. Within a couple minutes, he was shut in the dark, damp room. His leg screamed in pain and burned. For once, he was happy that the basement was so dark and empty. He couldn't see his gruesome injuries and no one could hear him cry.

Jack didn't know how many days he spent in the basement, but it seemed Snyder was always there. He couldn't count the amount of times he felt a foot plant itself in his ribs or brass knuckles cut open his cheeks. He got dirty water once a day, but food was a rare delicacy. He had always been skinny, but now his ribs were painfully obvious.

One day, the door opened, but this time it wasn't just one set of footsteps. The footsteps stopped at end of the stairs, but Jack didn't even have the strength to lift his head.

"Jack," one of the voices whispered. "Jack."

"R-Race?" Jack asked, finally managing to look up. Race was there - blurry, but there. He smiled and reached down to grab Jack's arm. Then the kind face of one of his best friends morphed into Snyder's face. Two guards on either side of Jack held him down. Snyder's eyes glittered dangerously in the dim light and the knife in his hand glistened.

A/N: Thanks to everyone who has left reviews on this. That really pushes me to keep writing.