Author's Note
.｡｡*ﾟi hope you're staying safe and being kind to yourself! .｡｡*ﾟ
Warning: Mentions of violence
Love youuu 💗
𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒆𝒏𝒋𝒐𝒚 ️
HOUSE OF REFUGE, 1897
The next morning, Doc's mind was swimming as he headed for the washroom. His heart was heavy for the poor kid whose sacred medal was destroyed. All night long, he kept seeing Whalen smash the medal over and over, chopping it to pieces. He knew Jack's heart had shattered with it.
The washroom was crowded as ever. Noisy, too. All of them hurrying to get ready, laughing, talking. It was as if none of them realized where they were, or maybe they just didn't care. Doc couldn't pretend like that. Couldn't make it all go away.
"Hey," a raspy voice said, making Doc look up from the sink.
Calico smiled back at him.
"Hi," Doc said, taken aback by Calico's appearance. He was as white as a sheet, sweat dampening his face and neck, dark circles under his eyes. Calico moved to the sink to wash his face, coughing as the water got in his mouth.
But there was little Doc could do in a place like that.
"Muggs has got it out for the kid – Jack," Calico said, splashing the cold water to his face. "I'd be careful if I were you. Don't coddle him the way Grim does, or you'll be a target, too." He squinted his eyes at Doc as he used a washcloth to rinse the soap from his face.
Doc dried his hands on a filthy towel and gave Calico a nod. "Thanks for the advice," he said with little interest.
"You're welcome," Calico said, drying his face with the same towel.
Doc leaned against the sink and looked around the washroom. He found Muggs and Alexei almost at once. They were talking, stripped above the waist while they washed at the sink below a plaque reading The Body is the Temple of the Holy Spirit.
Alexei glanced up, making eye-contact with Doc. The Russian boy glared at him for a moment, as if he might say something, before turning away again to dry the water from his face.
Doc studied the two. "I can see his ribs," he mumbled to Calico. "Dammit, he's starving himself. Look."
Calico followed Doc's gaze and then looked away, shaking his head. "Hunger strike."
"But he'll die if he keeps going. I can't fix that."
Calico shrugged. "That's the idea." He hung up the small washcloth to dry, turning to face Doc. "He wants Snyder to give him opium or risk a scandal of a dead inmate."
Doc crinkled his eyebrows. "And he thinks that'll work?"
Calico broke into a fit of coughs, prompting Doc to grab his wrist, squeezing it. "Hans, your pulse is wild," Doc muttered. "Chest pain?"
The German boy said nothing, averting his eyes.
"Don't lie. You gotta tell me. Does it hurt to breathe?" Doc asked, growing more frustrated with Calico's silence. "You are. Water, keep drinking it. Clean the faucet if you need to, but you have to stay hydrated."
"That won't make me better," Calico replied. "If I have tuber…tubercalarius—"
"Tuberculosis," Doc corrected him, shaking his head. "And I'm not convinced you do. I was wrong. Dr. Fuller was wrong. You wouldn't be walking around if you had it for this long."
"Then what's wrong with me?"
"I don't know yet," Doc continued. "Maybe Fuller can give you something for the pain."
Tide appeared next to the two and nudged Doc. "You see Jack at all this morning?" He asked, concern in his eyes.
"No," Doc said, stretching his arms.
"I thought you found him last night," Tide said.
"I did. Then we came back here, I watched him get into bed, and then I fell asleep."
Tide ran a hand over his eyes. "Jesus. So, you don't know where he is?"
Doc shook his head.
Muggs rammed his shoulder into Tide as he passed him, making Tide turn. Muggs didn't look back.
Tide chucked a bar of soap at Muggs as he entered the dormitory. It missed and hit the wall before falling to the floor.
Calico shook his head. "They oughta lock him up for good."
"I think that would be punishing Snyder more than Muggs," Tide said.
Jack stood motionless under the tight grip Whalen had on the back of his shirt collar.
The boy glanced around the large office and then over at Dr. Fuller sitting behind the desk in front of them. Whalen's was scowling down at him – Jack could feel it. No one said a word as Fuller looked over a handwritten report.
"I see from this report, Mr. Whalen, you've listed all of his infractions, but you've made no attempt to indicate what might have provoked them," he said, shaking his head. "This is of no use to me."
Whalen scoffed and folded his arms. "A troublemaker's a troublemaker," he gestured to the door. "All these boys are here because they broke the rules. It's not my job to find out why. I'm here to see they don't break any more."
Fuller stood, never taking his eyes off Whalen. "I see," he said. "Well, perhaps I'd better speak to Jack alone."
Whalen shrugged. "Suit yourself. I'm missing my breakfast anyway," he said, heading out the door and closing it behind him.
Jack flinched at the sound of the slamming door, staring forward. Fuller looked down at him with a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "You don't get along with Mr. Whalen, do you, Jack?"
Shaking his head, Jack remained silent.
"Do you know what 'laying low' means?" Fuller asked.
Again, Jack sat motionless, offering the slightest of nods.
Fuller sighed and came around to crouch in front of the boy. "Jack," he said as the newsie turned to look at him. "This place isn't easy for anyone. But you must make the best of it. Don't pick fights. Don't talk back. Your time will go by much faster."
Jack was quiet for a moment, as if he wasn't even processing Fuller's words. His eyes looked distant. "I can't hear her voice anymore..." Jack muttered, staring into space. "He smashed my medal, and now I can't hear her voice anymore..." He snapped back to reality, giving Fuller a wide-eyed stare. "Please..." he begged, grabbing the doctor's hand. "You can help me..." he said, his eyes brimming with tears.
Fuller placed a steady hand on Jack's shoulder.
"You can help me," Jack repeated, this time sounding desperate. "I didn't wanna come here. I stole money, but I didn't wanna be here!"
Fuller shook his head. "Calm down. I'm on your side."
Jack stared at him with watery eyes. "But...but you're not locked up. You can leave. I can't," he cried. "I hate it here. I'm gonna die if I stay here. And so will the others."
"You're not going to die. Do you understand me? You're not going to die," Fuller said, wiping the sweaty hair from Jack's forehead.
Jack was quiet as he studied the carpet. "And when I die, my sister will be all alone," he said, swiping the tears from his eyes. "She'll be all alone. And it'll be my fault."
"Your fault?" Fuller asked, squeezing Jack's hand. "What do you mean?"
Jack looked over at him, horrified. "Who else is to blame if not me..." Jack sniffled, tears running down his cheeks. "I did a dumb thing, I got thrown in here, and now she's by herself..." he cried, wiping at his tears. "Sophie ain't going to make it without me."
"Oh, Jack, I'm sure that's not true..." Fuller said.
"Sophie's too good, too innocent to survive out there alone," Jack admitted. "She's already lost both our folks, and now she's lost me, too..." Jack's voice trailed off as he started hyperventilating. "And it's all my fault!"
"It's not your fault, Jack," Fuller said.
"She was the reason I kept going, but I don't think I'll ever see her again," Jack said, looking away. "All I had was my mother's medal. It reminded me I had someone waiting for me outside. I could sleep easy knowing all this…this suffering wasn't for nothing."
"Is that why you left the dormitory last night?" Fuller asked, his voice hitching in the back of his throat. "To get it back?"
Jack nodded. "Snyder took it from me, put it in the drawer," he said in a faint voice. "And when Whalen smashed it, it was like Ma died all over again."
Jack stood at his machine in the Refuge factory, still in a daze. Metal fans circled and spun on the ceiling to blow away the heavy fumes and chemicals the machines released but it did little to that effect. It was humid and dizzying altogether, all the while snow fell outside, and Jack felt himself zoning out every now and then. The air was buzzing with machines and tools clanging and metal fans whirring – it was enough to put him to sleep.
Jack turned the heavy crank on the side of a machine. The crank created friction and became heavy, and Jack had to strain his muscles to get it to turn. Distracted, he turned his head toward the tall windows that lined the factory, allowing light to flow through. He gazed toward the east river.
"Don't look like that far of a swim," Tide said, nudging Jack as he operated the same machine. "I thought of a hundred ways to cross it."
Jack shrugged. "I couldn't swim it. Never did learn."
"I couldn't either, and I used to swim all the time," River mumbled next to him.
"Sure, we could all tread water long enough to get across," Tide continued. "So what? We got no money, no clothes, nowhere to go. In less than a week, they'd ship you back here. And then you get a longer sentence."
Jack frowned. He looked back out the window and noticed a ferry boat, much like the one he'd been transported to Refuge on. It was being boarded by seven or so girls with guards nearby.
"Hey, where are they going?" Jack asked, a pang of jealousy in his voice.
Tide followed his gaze, his expression indifferent. "Them? They're free to go, I guess. Their time is up," he said as the ferry began moving, leaving Snyder standing behind the gate.
A roar of voices echoed through the factory, grabbing Jack's attention.
A crowd of boys had gathered around a fight that had broken out near one of the machines. Jack, Tide, and River left their places and hurried to see what the commotion was.
Muggs was shoving Atlas backwards with every step forward he took. "You're so tough, then go ahead. Hit me, I dare ya!" Muggs was yelling.
The boys watching were shouting at once, trying to break it up. Muggs lunged at Atlas, but Atlas was able to push him off. Muggs sent a hard punch to Atlas's jaw. The Italian boy stumbled backward, struggling to regain his footing. Muggs went to punch him again, when Atlas grabbed a tin jar labeled 'flammable' and doused it at Muggs, some of it getting in his mouth.
The others jumped back with a gasp. Muggs groaned and backed up, his hands clawing at his tongue. "Fuck! Goddammit!"
Doc exhaled in frustration. "Why did you have to do that, Atlas?" He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. "Muggs you didn't swallow any of that, did you? If you did, you need to make yourself sick right now."
Mr. Caldwell blew his whistle, sending two guards bursting onto the factory floor.
"Break it up!" One yelled as he grabbed Atlas by his collar and held him back. The other grabbed Muggs.
"You're both going to explain what happened to the warden," the second guard said. "And the rest of you better get back to work, or you're all on report."
Jack watched as the two boys were escorted out the door. Tide nudged Jack, urging him to get back to their machine.
It was when the bell rang for dinner that Jack felt a twinge of excitement at the thought of eating. He felt like he hadn't eaten in days.
After he got the food on the tray, he stood at the table alongside Grim, Tide, Calico, and No Name as they waited for the okay to sit.
Snyder tapped his cane, and the boys all collapsed onto the bench, exhausted from the day, and famished. Snyder tapped the cane again, and the boys dug into their food, a low murmur of conversation beginning at each table in the dim canteen.
"Save some bread for Atlas and Muggs," Doc said to the others as he himself set aside an apple.
"Muggs is too cruel to get anything," Jack replied.
Doc shot him a look. "I can deal with cruel," he said. "Half-starved is another thing."
Grim nodded and put his roll of bread in his pocket. Jack did the same after a beat.
Snyder tapped his cane again all too soon for Jack.
"Hold your spoons!" Whalen yelled. "On your feet!"
Groaning, the other children rose from the benches. The ward boys stood on their aching feet – sore from working in the factory all day. A female inmate came around with a cart, collecting half-empty and empty bowls and cups. When she'd finished, the warden tapped his cane again.
"Be seated," Snyder said, his voice breathy.
The children sat as a drone of whispers rose amongst them.
"Hold your tongues!" Whalen yelled.
Snyder nodded. "I will now address the commotion that took place in the factory this afternoon," he said, commanding the attention of the room. He shook his head in mock disappointment at the rows of inmates – all with solemn and tired eyes. He paid particular attention to the ward. "As you know, the two instigators are being dealt with," he continued. "Consider yourselves lucky that you're not with them. I want what's best for every one of you. But rules are rules," he said with a shrug. "And anyone failing to obey these rules will be sorry."
Crazy exchanged a look of annoyance with Jack. He began drumming his fingers on the table, his hand grazing over his spoon. Then he dragged his spoon to the edge of the table.
"As I have always said," Snyder went on. "No one will be permitted to-"
Clink.
Crazy's spoon clattered to the floor, echoing a sharp reverb. This resulted in a few muffled snickers from the younger children at a nearby table.
Whalen looked around, his eyes narrowing, his lips curling into a snarl.
Snyder paused, unfazed, before continuing. "As I was saying, I will not tolerate—"
Clink. Clink.
Crazy slid two more spoons off the table.
Following this, the other boys at Jack's table began to do the same.
Clink. Cling. Clink. Clink.
In a matter of seconds, every boy in the ward was sliding silverware to the floor. The younger inmates were delighted, giggling as if it were a game. But Jack and the others wore defiant expressions.
The older girls sat motionless, refusing to join in, looking shocked as ever.
The boys glared at Snyder and Whalen, as they began to slam the remaining silverware on the table against their trays. The noise started out slow, rhythmic, and then became more aggressive, more fervent.
Whalen was livid while Snyder looked more fascinated than angry. Snyder picked up a glass of water and threw it against the wall, the water splashing the table nearest to it and the glass shattering and making an awful echo.
The canteen went silent. The clanging had stopped, and now the inmates all looked at Snyder. Their moment of rebellion was over.
"I want this charade stopped, and I want it stopped now," Snyder said in the same calm voice, now staring at the ward boys. "Your time here hasn't taught you anything. You're all the same degenerates you were the day you arrived."
Whalen scowled at Crazy. "My boys won't step out of line anymore, sir. I can promise you that," he said to Snyder. He turned to address the entire canteen. "Everyone up and back to your dormitories! Single file, eyes front, no talking!"
As the children filed out, Whalen turned to Snyder, pointing to Crazy. "It was that one, Warden. He was the ringleader."
Snyder nodded. "Make an example, then. Send him and a few others to hard labor tomorrow."
"How many?"
"Six more," Snyder said as he turned to leave.
Whalen nodded and looked around for other boys to join Crazy tomorrow. "Right," he said. "Cohen, Valentino, McGurk, Petronelli, Markowitz, Kramer and uh," he paused looking around for an additional boy. "Sullivan. You're all on hard labor tomorrow!"
Jack almost felt the urge to punch Whalen in the face, but he held back. He didn't mind having to work long hours in the cold, but the fact that Whalen was forcing Calico to do it made his blood boil.
Jack managed to control his temper and dug his nails into his own palms to keep from doing anything rash.
When they got back to the dormitory, Jack headed for the washroom and turned on the faucet, letting the water run. He cupped his hands to catch the water and drank it, not wanting to put his mouth on the rust-covered faucet. He knew for sure he wouldn't get much water the next day.