The water was always purposefully ice-cold no matter the air temperature in the room. In winter, some of the girls would end up succumbing to hypothermia or suffer from repeated bouts of pneumonia which the matrons just believed was another sign that the girls needed punishment for their sins. At first it felt like hundreds of tiny needles pricking her skin as the water rushed up over her mouth, her nose, her eyes until it covered every part of her. There was a split second of calm before panic set in and she fought against the leather bonds that held her arms and legs. She could never tell how long it lasted. It could have been only seconds but it felt like an eternity. Eventually, they'd drag her back upright and gasping for air as she wept tears of rage, humiliation, and fear. It was done as a means of forcing a confession for transgressions she hadn't even committed, other times it seemed to merely provide some kind of entertainment or to serve as an example to others of how not to behave. She wasn't alone and there were any number of girls in the reformatory who could have told the same tale. It wasn't as though the walls were soundproof and she'd spent any number of nights listening to or experiencing the horrid punishments the Warden believed would reform the wayward children of the city. Tay often wondered if those other girls struggled to free themselves of those memories the same way she struggled to emerge from the shadows and nightmares.
Tay bolted upright and the room around her seemed to spin. Her heart beat so loudly in her ears that she couldn't hear any other sounds. Each of her hands held onto the sides of the copper tub and her fingers ached as she tightened her grip, struggling to catch her breath. She forced herself to focus on one little detail at a time. The way each droplet of water fell down off the ends of her hair and back into the tub. The intricate design of the red roses that covered the dressing screen separating her from the rest of the room. She counted each rose petal under her breath as she tried to control her breathing. But despite all her efforts, Tay knew there was only one solution to her panic attack.
"Spot?" Tay's voice trembled just a bit and she held her breath. There wasn't any reason to suspect that Spot had left her alone as she hadn't heard the door open and close but she had been caught up in her memories for awhile. Tay curled both her arms around her knees as she waited for an answer.
"I'm right here." Tay peeked through a small slit in the fabric screen to find Spot with his head propped up against one of the pillows on the bed, his hat tipped over his eyes and his hands linked behind his head. He appeared almost relaxed and Tay knew those moments were few and far between, making her hesitant to disrupt the balance in any way but she felt the need to talk to him. Or at least to hear his voice and know he was there in the room with her. It made little to no sense but his presence in the room was the only thing that made it possible for her to drive away the increasingly disturbing thoughts that were haunting her. She didn't know that Spot could see her. That he was watching her reflection in the dresser mirror from underneath his hat brim. He had purposefully tipped the cap down over his eyes so it would look like he wasn't paying attention but he'd been watching every move she'd made since the moment she entered the room. He always watched her. Watched and waited.
"Are you going to the rally?" Tay asked with trepidation.
"Why would I?"
"Race said that reporter is going to visit the Governor and he might actually do something about the Refuge. It'd be kinda nice to see that in person."
"You ain't going," Spot told her. "I ain't gonna have you involved in this shit. You do remember what happened at the rally, right? You're staying here until this ends."
Tay ran her hand along a rough edge where the metal tub had cracked and been poorly mended. Her fingers moved deftly, picking at the metal until she felt the familiar sting of pain. She lifted her hand to the surface and watched with morbid fascination as the bright red blood pooled before dripping down into the water. She couldn't have explained why she did it. The rapidly cooling water drew Tay's attention and she stood and reached for her clothes. The material felt rough against her skin and Tay took care to avoid the most heavily bruised places on her body. She ripped off a bit of fabric and held it to the cut but could only fumble a bit as she tried to knot it around her hand.
"Hold still," Spot told her as he stepped over and took the material out of her hand. Tay was a bit startled as she'd assumed he wouldn't notice what she'd done. She allowed him to take her hand and examine the cut.
"I wasn't moving."
"You want me to do this or not?" It sounded like such a simple question but Tay knew better. If she admitted that she needed his help, he'd undoubtedly find some way to use it against her. If she told him no or told him that she could do it herself and that she didn't his help it would be days, even weeks, before Spot would offer any sort of simple kindness or comfort. Spot kept his eyes down, concentrating on wrapping the cloth around Tay's hand and she took advantage of his distraction to think back on how he had changed. He hadn't always been that way. It's what Tay should have said, what she should have told David and Race but she'd always had trouble with that sort of thing. The line between the truth and the lies had been blurred so long ago that she sometime struggled to remember which was which anymore. There were always two versions of things and anything that didn't suit Spot was kept hidden and contained.
"What happened this time?" Spot asked.
"It was an accident," Tay answered defensively, although she wasn't really paying attention to the question.
"You gonna sit there with your hand sliced open and tell me you don't do this on purpose? That you don't mean it? I ain't stupid, Tay."
She opened her mouth to protest but knew he was right. It was a terrible thing to face but Spot had never been known for letting people skate by without pointing out or at least taking note of every single weakness. She wanted an escape, no matter how brief, no matter how little time it ended up lasting, no matter what the cost was to herself or to others. The plan had originally been to just get cleaned up for the rally but she hadn't expected to be so overwhelmed by memories.
"I didn't say you was stupid," Tay mumbled. She sighed deeply before daring to ask the question that had been on her mind since the night of Race and David's visit. "Why did you stop me that night in the river?"
Spot's fingers grew still as he held the fabric against her hand and he didn't look up. Tay had almost the immediate desire to take the question back. "I'm not really going to do anything, you know."
"I told you before, don't lie to me," Spot answered coldly while he knotted the cloth together over her injury. She trembled as he ran his fingers up along her wrist and over the raised scars that lined her left arm. He continued to keep his eyes down as he focused on each individual scar. "I can't lose you."
Tay was so startled by his admission that she could only stare down at her hand as Spot held it in his. It was a trick, it had to be. He had never come anywhere close to saying anything like that before and she waited for him to laugh or to tell her that it was all a joke, that he wanted nothing more than to get rid of her by any means necessary. The longer she sat there and mulled over what he'd just said, the angrier she got. How dare he tell her something like that when he'd been the one who'd threatened to kill her, he'd been the one who'd gotten such a thrill out of making her life hell. Tay could not control the bitter laugh that escaped her as she drew her arm back out of Spot's reach.
"So I'm not supposed to lie to you, but you can lie to me?" Tay asked. She crossed over to the dresser where she stood staring at her own reflection. The bruise along her jaw just served as another reminder of how volatile Spot could be and how foolish she'd have to be to believe anything he said.
"I'm sorry." Tay closed her eyes and tried desperately to keep a hold on reality. She'd heard those words too many times. Just as she worked up the nerve to tell him that she wasn't stupid, that she didn't believe a word he said anymore she felt his breath on the back of her neck as he slid his arms around her waist. He was always like that when they were alone. She wouldn't have said he was gentle, that was simply not a part of who he was no matter what the circumstances may have been. Caressing, loving, a trick of the mind, another contradiction. It was just another way to confuse and bewilder her and Tay tried to steel herself against the effect his touch had on her. He was always claiming he didn't want to play games and yet that was all he ever did, especially with her. Spot reached up and Tay could feel him running his fingers through her hair, sending a shiver down her spine. "Are you ever gonna forgive me?"
He didn't want forgiveness. He didn't need her to forgive him or to make amends because she'd let him get too close and there were no more walls to keep him out. She'd admitted, to his face, that she loved him. God, she was such a fool. She wanted to tell him no, that she wasn't ever going to forgive him. That she was going to hold on to every bit of hurt that was curled up inside her just waiting to get out. How was she supposed to forgive him? Just thinking about it infuriated her and she suddenly felt very cold inside.
"Forgive you for what, Spot?" She turned and stared directly at him. She kept her hands on the dresser, gripping the thin wooden edge as though it would give her the support she needed just to stand there with him looking at her like that. Like he wasn't playing a game, like he wasn't going to step outside that door and take it all away from her, again. He was so very good at manipulating her. "Do you want me to forgive you for trying to sell me to Jack as a damn joke? Or do you want me to forgive you for lying to me every day since my brother died? Or maybe you want me to forgive you for taking me to some whorehouse in East Brooklyn and then leaving me there alone while some horrible woman destroyed everything, is that it? What exactly is it that you want forgiveness for, Spot?"
"Nothing." Spot's features hardened and his eyes held such resentment that Tay felt her breath catch in her throat. There was something else, a flicker of pain that she was barely able to register before it was gone and so was Spot.
Pieces of glass rained down onto the dock but both the sound and the sight were less than satisfying. Another marble, another bottle, over and over again and yet Spot didn't feel the slightest bit better about anything. There were more violent solutions but he'd already tried those and it hadn't helped ease his mind. He didn't know how to deal with everything he'd been feeling since that moment he'd made the mistake of telling Tay that he couldn't lose her. What the hell had he been thinking? She meant nothing to him, absolutely nothing. She was just a toy, something to play with and then easily discarded when he grew bored or restless or distracted. Something so easily broken, shattering into pieces and just as quickly mended with a few simple words or a touch of his hand. But he was beginning to fear that, this time, the damage was irreversible. He'd left her standing there in that room with nothing. He'd run from her, from his feelings, from everything. She was the only one who could make him leave. She could make him do anything and he hated her for that. Trying to hate her was easier than dealing with the truth.
A familiar laugh drew his attention and he surveyed the surrounding area until he was able to pinpoint where Tay was. Spot had half expected to see Race with her since he was the only one who managed to get Tay to laugh like that but Race was nowhere to be found. Instead, one of the Brighton newsies stood there with his arm around Tay's shoulder and murderous thoughts instantly filled Spot's mind as he approached the twosome. The moment Spot caught up with them the boy tried to slide his arm away from Tay but she grabbed onto his hand and held him in place with a defiant look at Spot. There was something off about her that he couldn't quite put his finger on but he had the boy to deal with before he could deal with Tay.
"Brighton, right?" Spot asked. The boy nodded once in acknowledgement. "They still got that dance hall out there? The one at the end of the boardwalk?" The boy nodded again. "Good. Plenty of girls there that are worth the trouble but this one here that you got your arm around? She ain't worth the beating. Now I'm gonna give you thirty seconds to get the fuck outta my sight, understand?"
"You ain't gotta leave," Tay said. She was busily shooting daggers at Spot and didn't even seem to notice that the boy was nearly twitching as Spot waited calmly for the inevitable. Tay watched the poor kid depart with an impassive look before turning back toward Spot. "There's more where he came from. I'll just find another one."
"Go ahead," Spot told her.
"I will," Tay told him as she placed one hand on his chest and leaned into him, somewhat unsteadily. "Let me tell you something, Spot Conlon. You can threaten every single boy in this city and you'll still lose me. So there." Tay hiccuped quietly and Spot realized she was very, very drunk. He should have figured it out sooner, but he had been trying his best to keep Tay from feeling the way his heartbeat sped up when she touched him.
"Is that so?" He had to get her out of there, away from the dangers of the waterfront at that time of night, especially for someone in an intoxicated state. But he also knew that she would only fight him every step of the way. "You need sleep."
"You need sleep," Tay imitated with a mock serious face. She lifted the key up from under his shirt and twisted it in her hand before pressing it back against his chest. He felt her skin burn against his where her hand rested but he didn't want her to stop touching him. Her eyes flicked up to his and then away and her voice was quiet, almost as though she was speaking more to herself than to him. "The king of Brooklyn. That's the most important thing, right? No matter what else happens, you can't be anyone else."
"Who do you want me to be?" He didn't mean to ask the question but he'd felt something break open inside him earlier when he'd finally told her the truth and he struggled to contain all the chaos that had come with those few words.
"Do you remember that night in the basement?" Tay wasn't listening while she fumbled with the buttons on his shirt for a moment, trying and failing to pull him closer until Spot took her hand in his.
"Stop it, Anna." He'd seen her drunk before but not like that. She'd always been so careful, treading lightly around him while she waited for the storm to break. Her cheeks were flushed and the storm in her eyes was clearly visible even in the dim light. He didn't know what would happen next and in a panic he held her hand tightly, forcing her to follow along as he headed back to their room. He wouldn't take the chance of anyone seeing or overhearing their conversation.
Tay shoved him against the door after Spot had slammed it closed and kissed him with a strength he didn't know she possessed. It took everything in him to push her away, holding Tay at arm's length with the taste of her kiss still lingering. There was a sense of danger about her that both surprised and aroused him but he loathed the idea of taking her to his bed when she was so utterly ruined. He recognized a flash of pain in Tay's eyes before she turned to sit on the bed behind her but he didn't regret his actions.
"What's it feel like, Spot? To break a person apart and then just walk away?" He blinked slowly as Tay's voice brought him back to reality. She reached for the thin pillow wedged into the top corner of the bed and pulled it to her chest as she lay there looking up at him. What did it feel like? How was he supposed to explain that to her? Would it even matter if he tried to tell her that it felt like shit, that he regretted every little thing that he'd ever done to her? That the only way he could survive was to walk away because if he stayed to pick up the pieces he'd shattered on the ground he might as well have put a bullet in his own head? Could she even understand how confusing it was to want her forgiveness and at the same time feel that he wouldn't take any of it back? He hated that he was forced to think about those things, to feel those things because of her. Old habits were hard to break and he provided the only answer he knew would get the result his bitter heart desired.
"Nothing. It feels like nothing." The words tasted like ashes in Spot's mouth and it was only then that Tay finally gave in and allowed herself to cry.
