Chapter 21

"Dreams are today's answers to tomorrow's questions"

"So you were stabbed?" Spot asked me as we walked previously in silence towards Brooklyn. "In the dream, I mean."

I looked away from him and towards Manhattan, feeling a strange sense of homesickness. Even though I was raised in Brooklyn, Manhattan was truly my home. "Yes," my voice was barely above a whisper. The wind chilled my almost dry cheeks as it blew heavily from the north.

I could feel Spot staring at me. He cleared his throat to break the silence. "Weather's changing," he said obviously switching subjects after seeing my discomfort. I looked over at him and saw his big blue eyes looking up to the sky in disgust. He must hate this weather too. I studied his infamous face, with his prominent features: his deadly questioning eyes, eyebrows that seemed never to soften, his jaw that never seemed unclenched, and his mouth that was almost set in a permanent firm line. He had become hardened in his seventeen years, I wanted to know why.

I knew the basics, a drunken father who he and his sister were terrified of. Every time they turned around they were beaten for anything wrong that happened to their father or around him. It didn't help that Spot and Rachel's mother had left them at an early age, fleeing her abusive husband and leaving her own children with someone who resembled a monster more than a human being. The Conlon twins were more alike than either of them wish to acknowledge. They both are completely cut-off emotionally. Neither of them is ever comfortable speaking about their feelings. They both have never had been able to keep a steady romantic relationship, keeping everyone at a foot's distance. After being hurt so badly during childhood, you start to think that speaking about how you feel will only get you hit or yelled at. I too felt this way for a long time. I was also cut-off from my own reality until I met Jack. He became the person who helped me unleash everything I had so skillfully held back and repressed for so long. I shudder to think of what I might be like if I hadn't had someone in my life like Jack.

After living with me for so long, Rachel has gotten better about opening up but, never completely comfortable. She's always had the newsies to support her, and I have always been there allowing her to vent about anything bad or good in her life. But Spot is a whole other story; I think he needs professional help. Spot puts up this protective wall around him, and refuses to let anyone in. He keeps everyone at a distance, pushing anyone away who gets too close. He puts on a tough façade but I know that deep down he needs someone to be there for him, someone he can count on. Hopefully he will find that person.

I followed Spot's gaze up to see dark grey clouds forming and grimly making their way closer to the city. "It was raining in all of my nightmares." I said, thinking out loud. I could remember the way it pelted down on me, the blood covering my previously white shirt a dark scarlet.

Spot looked at me quickly with a tense face. "Every nightmare?"

"Yes," I spoke slowly, calmly. "Every single one." I kept my eyes low, hoping that they wouldn't tear up again.

"And you actually remembered him killin' you after you woke up?" Spot asked curiously, a faint sense of anger in his tone.

"It felt so real, I felt every second of the pain until I took my last breath." My voice was scared, there was no way I could hide the horror I had subconsciously gone through. The pain, although part of my own imagination, was more real than anything I've ever felt.

Spot looked away and cursed. He tightened his grip on his cane. "I'll kill whoever this man is." Spot said in a dark acidic voice. "That fucker won't know what's hit him."

I bit my lip nervously as I looked over at Spot. His face was contorted angrily, and his eyebrows pulled together, his eyes narrowed, his nostrils flared. He stopped and walked over to the railing of the bridge. He looked over the bridge into the dark water below. I knew Spot was trying desperately to contain his rage, but anger management has never been his strong suit. I had an overwhelming urge to comfort him which was ridiculous. I knew he would only pull away, keep me from breaking the wall.

I walked over to him and looked too over the railing, the dark water seemed angry. I could see white waves rippled across the water. What a long ways to fall. I remember screaming headlines about men and women jumping from this bridge. If I remember correctly, none of them had survived.

I immediately looked up and away from the darkness as I felt my stomach lurch from my life-long fear of heights. Spot didn't seem to notice me. He had turned his gaze away from me and towards Brooklyn, avoiding my eyes purposely. I waited patiently for him to say something. Spot was looking over at Brooklyn intently, then looking farther over towards Queens. I wish I knew what was on his mind…

After a few moments of tense silence, Spot sighed frustratingly. "I don't understand."

He didn't have to say anymore than that, I understood immediately what he meant.

I tried to meet his eyes, but they quickly darted away from mine. "I don't either, it just doesn't make sense," I stared blankly into the darkness approaching us quickly. "Why us?"

Spot scoffed. "Well I could give you a hundred reasons why someone would be after me, but why you? You haven't done anythin'," Spot looked over at me. "Right?"

I met up with his cold eyes. "I can't think of a reason."

I honestly couldn't think of many people who hated me, maybe other than the Delancy's but after Spot almost killed Oscar, I think the dummy would have more sense than to think of messing with me again. I am mostly a generally liked person, with little fights in my past. Except when I would fight for someone else, like once when a "boyfriend" of Rachel's cheated on her. Only other fight I could think of was with Ben, my ex-boyfriend. Other than that, I came up blank.

Spot looked off into the oncoming storm, his eyes narrowing. He was lost in thought.

If I had very little enemies, then why would someone kill me? I have nothing, I am practically nothing. What good would come of me dead? Then again, what good have I done alive? I shuddered at the thought.

"I have a bad feeling about this, Spot." I said in a small voice, my stomach hurting from nervousness and hunger. I couldn't remember the last time I ate something. I ate yesterday, right?

Spot looked over at me, his expression turned from anger to worry. And if Spot was worried, then I must be terrified.

"Once those clouds are overhead, it's gonna rain." Spot said looking off over the bridge into the storm. "We better hurry."

Spot backed away from the railing and started towards Brooklyn, I followed close behind him. I could feel Spot looking at me as I held myself tightly, bracing myself from the powerful wind. He put his arm very gingerly on the lower part of my back, leading me through the small foot-traffic, he held my suitcase tightly in the other hand.

A small flash of lightening caught my attention as Spot and I continued to walk quickly on the Brooklyn Bridge. Thunder rolled shortly after, causing me to gasp. My hand trembled ever so slightly as I caught a few stray hairs and placed them securely behind my ear. The wind was beginning to pick up some more, tangling up my hair and whipping it around my face.

Spot and I managed to make it off the bridge without being blown away, and luckily the wind died down slightly as we made our way into town. Spot removed his hand from the small of my back, and started walking confidently into a more busy part of Brooklyn.

Spot slowed his pace, and looked towards me. "So we have a spare room across from mine you can stay in, it doesn't have a bed though so I'll just pull off one of the mattresses from a bunk." He gave me a glance. "That okay?"

I nodded. "Yeah that's fine, anything's good."

Spot cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I'll talk to the boys about you, make sure they don't do anythin' stupid."

I suppressed a laugh. "Alright, so you got any rules for me?"

Spot looked at me mischievously, straightening out his cap. "Yeah I got one," he gave me a rare smile. "Try not to look so goddamn pretty, okay? I don't want any of my boys gettin' distracted."

I laughed out loud, unsure if he was kidding or not.

Spot mumbled under his breath. "I already know at least one of them will be." I'm not sure if he meant for me to hear that. I played it off, pretending that I didn't hear what he had said.

Match was a touchy subject for Spot, and Spot was a touchy subject for Match. How awkward for me.

I kept silent, not sure what to say to that. I thought about that some, I didn't even stop to think that I'm going to be living with Match. I'm going to be sleeping a few feet from him. This may be odd, staying with Spot and Match, feeling the guilt of my momentary mental stroke when I kissed Spot on the bridge. I was so lost, confused, lonely. He was there. Match was not.

"You hungry?" Spot said, breaking into my deep thoughts. Spot started searching through the pockets in his pants and shirt for cigarette and failing to find one.

I didn't have to think twice. "Yeah, I am actually." I reached down and felt my hungry stomach, hearing it roar with anger at my neglect.

Spot looked down at me. "Yeah well I bought some stuff, it's back at the house."

I looked at him with deep suspicion. "Where are you getting all this money?" I narrowed my eyes at him. "I mean, you paid off my debt and you still have enough to buy groceries?"

Spot shrugged sheepishly. "I guess you could say I'm pretty good at poker, and your friends aren't."

I glared at him. That's right, at the party Spot had won the big game of poker. Poor Racetrack lost. I pictured Racetrack's face, a cigar hanging from the side of his mouth, a smirk plastered to his face. I missed Manhattan already.

"You still didn't answer my question," I said cocking an eyebrow suspiciously at Spot.

"What?" Spot put on the defense, playing innocent.

"Why did you pay off my debt?" I asked, truly curious. It was so out of character for Spot to do something so kind, he practically saved me from imprisonment if Weasel hadn't taken my offer.

Spot looked away awkwardly. "I don't know." His voice was soft, confused, as was I.

I kept my composure and waited for him to give me a better answer than that.

Spot looked at me, scrutinizing my face. "Look, I just thought it would be easier than havin' to beat up some other shit-head for you okay? And I had the money so I did." He was acting very defensive. It wasn't like he was on trial or anything.

I looked at him, and decided to back off a little. Fighting with Spot would make my stay here that much more difficult. "Well… thank you." I said in a defeated voice. I looked to the ground awkwardly and involuntarily blushed.

Spot uncomfortably took off his hat and hastily ran a few fingers through his hair before setting it back on his head. "Let's go."

Spot led me silently to the Brooklyn lodging house. I again noticed how people ducked out of the way of Spot, fearing him. The power he held here scared me, no one should ever have this dictator-like effect on people.

We got to the lodging house right as the rain started. I looked to the sky, in fear. This was not a good sign. If it was raining in my dream and I was in Brooklyn…

"Ready?" Spot asked me, interrupting my thoughts. He opened the door for me, waiting for me to walk in. I could hear loud voices coming from upstairs.

"Yeah," I said taking a step in and following Spot up the stairs to the bunkroom.

All the boys were sitting around a few tables that were all pushed up next to each other. The newsies were crowded around five boys holding cards, obviously a big poker game. They were all laughing and drinking, joking around with each other until one boy saw Spot and I, he whispered something to the boy next to him. Suddenly every pair of eyes in the lodging house was looking in my direction. The room was now painfully quiet.

Spot took his cane from his belt loop and hand it in his hand. The sound of his boots on the wooden floor was completely intimidating. I suddenly saw Match, looking at me. He was the only person in the room who looked completely at ease. He was sitting in his chair taking a sip of his beer. When no one was looking he shot me a wink at me. He then turned back to Spot, waiting for him to say something. I smiled softly at him.

Spot walked over to his newsies and cleared his throat. I cowered by the staircase, trying to stay out of the attention of the newsies.

"So, as you might be guessin', we're gonna be havin' someone stay with us for a little while." Spot said in a professional tone. A few boys looked at me and quickly looked back at Spot.

Spot turned around to face me. He gestured for me to come over to him, so I walked slowly over to him and shyly stood slightly behind him. "Boys, this is Riley. I know a few of you have already met her." Spot's eyes quickly darted to Match, and then back to the rest of the group. "She's goin' to be stayin' in the spare room for a few days, so treat her with some respect. Do I make myself clear?"

They boys looked around at each other and all nodded.

Spot nodded slowly. "Good, now if you do anythin' to her or around her that she or I don't like, you're out. No exceptions. Got it?" Spot's eyes were deadly serious.

The boys all mumbled in agreement, they looked at him in fear and in slight amazement. I was ready to puke.

Spot smirked. "As you were." He said, dismissing them. They all started up the fun again as Spot turned to me. "I'll show you were you're stayin'."

Spot walked over to his room, which I had already seen. He opened the door to the spare room and walked in, lighting the oil lamp. The room was pretty much empty, except for the small bedside table like the one in Spot's room, and an old wooden bureau. The room was dirty and cold, but with some sprucing, I could make it habitable.

Spot set down my suitcase and started out the door. "Be right back," he yelled to me as he walked out of the small room.

I looked around at the emptiness, feeling a growing lump in my throat. I needed to be strong, and not to let homesickness or loneliness get to me. I was here on a mission, and I needed to keep my focus. I moved my suitcase over to the bureau and started moving the small amount of clothes I brought into the drawers.

Spot came in holding a mattress and set it down in the middle of the room. He looked at me and gave me a half-smile. "I'll get you some blankets."

I nodded sheepishly and put the last of my clothes in the drawer. I took a look at the mattress in the middle of the tiny room. I decided that it bothered me just sitting there in the middle of the room, waiting for me to trip over it so I bent down and pushed it to the corner of the room, giving me some walking space. I sighed as I looked at the ratty mattress, although it was no cleaner than the ones back in Manhattan, it just wasn't the same. I sat down on it and bounced a little to check the springs. It smells, I thought to myself.

Spot came back in and threw a pile of blankets and a pillow next to me on the bed. He sighed and uncomfortably looked around the room. "So, get comfortable and everythin', I'll be out watchin' the game. Just come out when you're ready." Spot turned around to the door, but turned back around to face me. "And remember there's food in the kitchen, it's in the same place as in 'Hattan."

I nodded to him, and he walked out of the room, shutting my door.

I carefully made my bed, straightening out the room the best I could. I looked around at my small home away from home, it'll do. It wasn't much, but it would get me through my stay here in Brooklyn. But, it wasn't the same. Where was the smell of Racetrack's cigar? Where was the laughter of Rachel as she told me the latest gossip? The ever-watchful but caring Jack, making sure I stayed out of trouble?

Overwhelmed by sudden emotion, I flopped down on my make-shift bed and allowed myself to cry pathetically. I dug my face into my pillow and waited for the tears to stop and my breath to slow. I would be okay, and I knew that. It would take time to get used to being here, and I would survive. I just held the hope that I would figure out these dreams, and put a stop to whoever is after me. I knew in my heart that sometime soon, something was going to happen. Perhaps something life-changing, but that doesn't scare me. It's the thought of my dreams coming true which haunted me day and night.

I calmed down and sat up, staying strong. I wiped the last of the tears from my face and prepared myself to see Spot, and Match.

God help me.

Hello everyone! I know this was short chapter, but don't fear good people, more is coming! Also, yes, I know I haven't updated in a LONG time but I'll be better, promise!

Since you have read this, you must have some opinions, right? Please share them with me! Predictions, questions, wishes, I wanna hear them all!

Thanks! :)

-Riley