Oliver Twisted
Part Three
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Young Bet sat on her bed in the tiny padded room she was now calling home. One hand idly played with a heavy metal chain with a leather cuff. How long now until they came to chain her to her bed? How long would she be able to stay calm before the madness hit again? Her other hand clutched a long-dead rose that she had found in the pocket of her apron. She vaguely remembered. It had been from Jon. She immediately threw back her head and let out a howl. Her voice was hoarse, both from lack of use and occasional screaming. She flopped over onto the bed. She tried to pull at her hair, but it had been cropped quite short so that it fell in little ringlets around her ears. It wasn't very pullable. She gathered all of her limbs into a fetal position and lay quietly, having no way to harm herself.
After some time, there was a rattle on the bars over the window. Bet listlessly shifted her eyes in that direction. There was a dark shadow outside. She opened her dry mouth and breathed, "Nancy?"
A pair of small hands tugged at the bars. "I'm Lucy."
Bet blinked. "Lucy?"
"Yes. Would you like to go home now?"
Home? What was that? "Yes," said Bet. She didn't know where she was going, but she didn't care. Lucy seemed nice, even if she didn't remember her. Bet needed someone to take care of her.
Lucy stepped up onto a wooden crate she had pushed under Bet's window and pulled out a crowbar. She edged it into a crack in the wood under the bars. Bet approached the window in curiosity. "What's that?" She pointed at the crowbar. "I've seen that."
Lucy faltered. Of course Bet had seen it. It was Bill's. "Er…It's just somethin' I found."
Bet accepted this. Her mind was hurling through thoughts like a blazing comet.
Meanwhile, Lucy jammed the crowbar into the crack and pushed with all her might. Like most of the ancient architecture in merry old London, the hospital was not built all that strongly. The wood around the crowbar burst and Lucy was able to push in the window a bit. "Right then, Bet. It's time to go."
"Go? Out there?" Bet shrunk away and pulled a blanket off the bed. She wrapped it around herself and pulled it mostly over her head like a shawl. "Out there?" she repeated. She lifted the dry rose and took a bite of it, munching on the petals.
Lucy felt sick to her stomach. What was so wrong with her friend? She…ate that rose. Still, she couldn't bear to leave Bet. "C'mon, Bet. Take my 'and. I'll get you something to eat an' something fresh to wear. You're covered in…" Lucy faltered as she realized it was old bloodstains. "C'mon then, girl." She held out her hand.
Bet saw the hand and she wanted to hold onto it. More than anything she wanted to be held. She dropped the rest of the rose on the bed and ran to Lucy. She held onto her arm in a death grip. "I want to go 'ome! I want to go 'ome!" Her eyes were filled with desperation. "They tie me to the bed!"
Lucy reached in under the bars and took Bet under her arms to help lift her out. Bet wrapped her arms around Lucy for dear life. Lucy pulled and the two of them ended up in a pile of limbs and skirts and blanket on the ground. It was soon apparent that Lucy was lying on her stomach with Bet sitting on her. She was winded. Bet looked down at Lucy and remarked with a hysterical laugh, "You're soft."
Lucy wheezed. "Slide off, will you, Darling? For a moment?"
Bet obeyed and Lucy rose, brushing herself off. "You like the Dodger, right?"
"Dodger?" Bet took Lucy's hand and practically glued herself to Lucy's left hip.
"You remember him. Little dark haired boy? Cute as can be, but 'ating every minute of it?"
"Oh." It was unclear as to whether or not Bet actually remembered.
Lucy was feeling more steadily creeped out by the second since she had discovered Bet. "Well…we're going to go see 'im right now." She decided not to be afraid of Bet. After all, the poor girl had been locked away and she just needed someone to look after her. Lucy took Bet's hand in a firm grip and headed off. "You ain't scared of the dark, right…?"
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