Author's Note : I'm so so so sorry for the tedious delay in updates! I couldn't get online because my country is facing a coup d'etat right now. Hopefully, the internet connections are back again for good. Thanks for the reviews as well, really appreciated them. Sorry, this chapter's quite short compared to its predecessors ;-;

Sam hurriedly walked down the street with her eyes fixed straight to the front. Her legs swiftly carrying her through the well-lit streets of the familiar neighborhood of Manhattan, she saw tall gates not far ahead. And beyond that, stood the magnificent mansion with its bright windows and silk curtains. Sam sighed in relief, she had finally made it home.

Instead of going straight along the cobble lane, she made her way off towards the side. She knew very well that the gate was bound to be locked, and the gatekeeper possibly asleep in his cabin just beside. And she couldn't risk the metal clanging being heard, so climbing was out of options. But of course, Sam had already planned out everything for tonight.

Except the pickpocket and chasing.

She silently crept round the hedge which encircled the house. She headed for the backyard, where the lights were not so bright as the front porch. Although it wasn't very visible to a stranger's eyes at first sight, Sam had known this part of town for all her life to overlook anything.

More like trapped here all my life.

Immediately, Sam found what she was looking for - a small opening by the base of the hedge. It was enough for one small person to squeeze through, and too small for any unsuspecting eyes to overlook. It had been there for years, and with a little bit of undercover and some fallen leaves, it was just the perfect escape for a rebellious child.

She dug her way effortlessly through the hole under the hedge. It wasn't difficult - had done that for countless numbers of times. Without paying much attention to the mud and dirt on her clothes, she tiptoed hurriedly towards the big maple tree with its branches clinging just beside an upstairs window. Her window.

The leaves of the trees were a dull reddish brown color in the yellow lamp lights - but in the daytime, the tree was most beautiful covered with blood red and orange coatings. Sam loved the tree dearly - more than anything she ever owned. And that was partly because the tree was the first and only thing she ever really owned. Unlike her clothes, food and everything else she used daily, this tree was not derived from her father's money bank. It was her own - she had found the seed in her grandma's backyard at 2 years old - and it was her precious she could treasure without owing her father anything. Maybe except the water she used for watering.

With a small satisfying pat like a greeting to an old friend, she started climbing the stairs up the wooden ladder on the big tree trunk which was growing healthier each year. A quaint little treehouse existed meekly on the top of a big branch - just near the window. Slowly she threw her body up into the shelter. Panting from the tiresome climb, Sam laid back, staring at the wooden ceiling.

If you can call a ceiling, that is.

But nonetheless, Sam loved it - it relaxed her. She had taken the job to herself to put the treehouse together without any professional help from a carpenter. And though sometimes worried of its security, Sam never really had anyone besides her little brother in her treehouse.

But sh knew there was little time to waste now. If she remembered correctly, she had left the house at exactly midnight, and considering the events that had happened tonight, it would mean it was probably around 2 o'clock in the morning.

And that also meant she needed to get inside quick; her mother would be coming to wake her up at 7 am. Five hours wasn't a very sufficient amount of time for cleaning up the dirt off her face, hiding the black illegal outfit somewhere and get a decent sleep for the night.

Or at least, it wasn't sufficient for Sam.

She took off the black beanie off her head, unable to wait another moment, letting out a big sigh as the gentle breeze wrapped her coolly. She supported herself to wend her way towards the window. It was well placed, this joint rope-ladder to and fro. Grunting, she slid the window up and let herself step into the quiet dark room.

Doing so, her black boots left mud all over the clean floor but Sam didn't mind. She was busy trying not to make a squawky sound lest she woke up the whole house. Thankfully, she managed to reach for the bedside table without tripping or falling over anything.

She easily felt the small flashlight on the table, a small smile crept over her relief. As she opened the light dimly, her eyes squinted in natural response at the change in brightness after the dark they had been exposed to.

She looked around her own bedroom in distaste. Gosh, what a mess. She'd have to clean them up all on her own; of course there'd be no excuses when her mother came to wake her up each morning. And the desperate frustration that she'd have to tidy the room up to no spots in the dark with a flashlight only was enough to make her let out a groan.

It's all worth it, it's all worth it.

Pitty Parker's house had been miserably vandalized with eggs and toilet paper, and of course Sam couldn't wait till school to hear all about it like some innocent bystander.

And that boy Jack Kelly...

Shaking her head lightly, she concentrated intiptoeing softly across to the adjoined bathroom where she decided to comb out her hair and change into blue pajamas. Tying her brown hair into a messy knot, she cupped a handful of water to wash, letting the cold water refresh her sweat-and-dirt covered face.

Boy, tonight's been real...something, for sure. She thought as she stared back at her reflection, still unable to believe she was that girl who left the house some hours ago. No, she'd been through a lot - enough to tell a grand story to her grandchildren someday. If she ever had any.

But what exactly that something was... she couldn't pin her fingers down on it. Although her legs and limbs had already recovered from the fatigue of running, her heart was beating fast still, and she was feeling almost too blissful to even believe the last hour had actually happened.

But she knew it was no imagination of her.

She had actually ben pickpocketed by a local boy, and met another who was most probably a newsie. She couldn't tell for sure, but the way he spoke, his accent, and the way he talked about rich people, Sam concluded he must be a newsie.

He must read his papes a lot.

Sam finished cleaning herself up, and opened the compartment door to her bedroom. Oh boy, she still had that mud to scrub off the floor. Heaving a sigh in replace of the squeal that had been looming in the excitement from earlier, she knew what must be done. No matter how much she'd despisethe job.

Walking barefoot 'cross the room, she picked her muddy boots up to secure them somewhere in the wardrobe. Somewhere her parents would not think of checking, and somewhere that was out of sight, most importantly. But of course, she being Sam, it was most likely that the boots would remain in the back of that wardrobe... forever, forgotten.

With a bucket of water and cloth, she managed to quietly start working on the scrub. A little here, a little there. Her mind started wandering off to the hour before, the scenes playing out in her head as she continued to scrub the floor; an occasional smirk would appear thinly on her lips as she would remember and take pride on how she had outbested those rogues and came out as one piece.

And that boy.

Oft the small curl of her lips would tighten at being reminded of the somewhat pleasant-but-not-really-pleasant encounter. Sam was willing to accept as far as the fact that Jack Kelly had meant well on what he was saying. Just, why did he need to treat her like a no-good kid who's probably got an airy head for brains, that was the problem. And that tone of condescending, flowing so naturally.

Ugh.

What made matters worse was, the irony. Sam was pretty sure he was the no-good, and she should have been condescending. She knew she should have done better to defend herself and her ideals, her family and her status. And she hated herself for miserably failing in that.

Oh, how I hate it.

But even so, there were some tiny details she had overlooked, for her entire life, in fact. She realized, for the first time, that she had never given a second thought about the world outside, nor did she care for anything beyond her small sphere of society. True, she, aka Samantha Pulitzer, spent almost 99.9% of her life whining and complaining about the boring life she led. But it never occurred to her to open up her eyes and discover a new entirely unknown world just behind the big brick walls.

Gruffly did she continue sweeping and drying the floor to its shine. Back and forth her arm went, swiping the towel across the hideous floor doing its tedious task. At long last, when she was sure of her satisfactory work and not caring for another thing else, she fell flat onto the floor, heaving a loud relieved sigh at the comfort of something solid beneath her.

And her tired eyes began to close...

For she was home. And everything was behind.