Author's Note: Chapter 3! This is where we start to get into the REAL angst! This chapter is mostly inner thoughts, reflections and a bit of a background for Brooke and Specs. These will come in handy later in the story as points of reference and motives for certain actions. Bear with me here, there is a method to my madness, or so I hope! *grin* Anyway, I hope I'm holding your interest so far! I welcome constructive criticism, I loooove praise (I'm not conceited, everyone does, admit it!), flames are fun too! Me and Travis have a grand ole time laughing at them!

Warning: Eh… I don't wanna do this anymore. See the previous chapters.

Title: Secrets Best Left Untold

Author: Neffie

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Chapter 3

Hours passed. Dark storm clouds had moved in and covered the sky, blocking out any hint of light from the moon. Torrents of rain had begun to fall, battering the rooftops and streets of the city. Winds whipped violently, chilling to the very bones any unfortunate soul caught in their fury. It almost seemed as if God was trying to wash away the sin of New York.

Inside her small apartment, Brooke had not yet moved from her curled up position on the floor. She had stopped crying, but the tears had left stained tracks down her cheeks and her eyes still burned. Her wrist had stopped bleeding, but she didn't really seem to notice.

She had thought that she had finally gotten her life together. She had a warm place to sleep and food to eat. She had her education. She had a new job. When she had come to New York her distant cousin had been kind enough to give her a job at the restaurant that he owned. She was lucky to not have to spend a night on the street, or having to resort to a less than desirable means of making a living.

Most importantly, she had people that loved her. And her nightmares had stopped. For the first time in many years, she was able to sleep soundly throughout the night.

Her body tensed as the memories flooded through her.

Brooke had come from a middle class family. Her mother never took time to notice her daughter, her only concerns being her social events. Aside from the occasional slap across the face when Brooke "disgraced" the family, she was paid no attention. Her father spent most of his time in his study, working. She could remember very few times that her father had ever spoken directly to her.

Learning to read at a young age, she spent the majority of her younger years alone in her room with shelves full of books. Losing herself in the adventures, romances and dreams of the characters became her only escape from her cold and empty reality. Never complaining, Brooke knew that things could be much worse. She had seen the bruises on the body of her friend Karen, and had sat by the bedside of her friend Mary as she fell ill and slowly and painfully died.

On her 13th birthday she was sent to live with her grandfather. He was a sick and evil man. It wasn't until she came to his house that she found out how cruel fate could be. At first, it was just his leering that had caused her to tremble, but almost a month after she had moved in, his late night visits to her bedroom had began. She remained there for three years before hopping the train to New York to visit her cousin there. She had so wanted to see the city; she had read so many stories about the people there. She knew she was lucky, some girls were forced to live their whole lives in a situation like that, many never having the chance to escape.

Lost in her thoughts, Brooke had begun to wander around her small room, running her fingers across the shelves of books without thinking, she had paced all across the floor with no real direction. Somehow she ended up standing in front of her washroom mirror. Her fingers brushed against an object on the counter. Caressing the smooth ivory handle she released the blade of the straight razor. The flame from the oil lamp flickered and danced reflected in the metal. Originally bought as a present for Blink, she hadn't yet found the occasion to give it to him. Now she had found another purpose for it.

By chance, she glanced up at her reflection in the mirror. Her green eyes were streaked with red and her face was drawn and pale, she looked so tired. It occurred to her then that she hadn't eaten anything that day, or the day before that, for that matter. The red stain on her sleeve seemed to mock her. Her wrist began to burn, almost as if in accusation. //My God,// she shuddered. //What am I becoming?// With that she laid down the straight razor and bolted out the door into the cold and flooded night, with only the lights of sidewalk windows to guide her way.

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Removing his glasses, Specs rubbed at his tired eyes. A quiet atmosphere was a rarity around the lodging house, but with all of his fello newsies gone to the poker game, Specs had seized upon it as the perfect opportunity to get in some much missed reading. Yet, the book in front of him was positively useless. He couldn't concentrate on his reading, not tonight.

He closed his eyes and listened to the pounding of the rain on the roof. Images of Brooke and memories of his sister filled his mind.

Specs had grown up poor as Samuel Weaver with his mother and older sister Isabel. Their father had died in a factory accident when they were two, so he had no real memories of him. They had lived a fairly happy life, with both of the children receiving lessons in reading from their aunt. Although born three years apart, Isabel and Samuel were as inseperable as twins.

Life went on without much disturbance until a few months after Samuel's twelfth birthday. Isabel was 15. Samuel and his mother had returned home from the market one day to find the door left open, and inside Isabel was sitting in at the table, the marks of a savage beating apparent, and with most of her clothes ripped off. His mother had hurried out to tell the neighbors to send for some help. Young Samuel had quietly walked over to his sister's side. "Isa?" he had called to her quietly, but received no answer. She continued to stare at the wall.

After that, Isabel never spoke again. She would just sit and stare, in her own little world. Samuel would sit by his older sister's bed reading aloud to her everynight.

Five months later, Isabel was sent to St. Lauren's Mental Hospital. The weeks of feeding her, dressing her, and bathing her had proved to be too much stress on their mother and she had decided to send Isabel somewhere she could receive better help. It was a nightmarish place, where she was thrown in with the criminaly insane. The description applying both to the patients and the orderlies. It was believed that insanity could be beaten out of people.

A year later, they brought Isabel home for a visit. She had grown thin and pale. One day Samuel came home from running an errand to find his mother weeping uncontrollably, and a policeman in their home. Isabel had hung herself.

After that, his mother moved to her sister's home in Chicago, claiming that she couldn't stand the memories of their home. Samuel had gone to the Newsboy's Lodging House seeking a job. It turned out to yield much more than a few dimes a day, but a family of fellow Newsies and a new name to go with his new life. Specs.

Specs wiped away the few tears that had managed to escape while he had become lost in memories. The sound of thunder outside almost drowned out the sound of the front door of the lodging house opening and closing downstairs. He went down the steps quietly to see who had come in, for it was far too early for any of the newsies to be returning, even the youngest of them. When he saw who had came in he ran the rest of the way down the steps.

There, in the front hallway, stood Brooke. Her clothes were soaked through and dripped on the floor. She was pale and shivering violently, teeth chattering audibly. "I didn't know where else to go," she stated quietly.

"Brooke? What happened? What are you doin' wanderin' around in da rain on a night like dis?" Specs hurried to her side.

She didn't seem to hear any of his questions. Turning green eyes to him, he was taken aback by the sadness and pain that was burning there.

"Specs," her voice trembling, "something is very wrong with me."



Author's Note: Chapter 4 coming soon!!