Writer talk: In this chapter you will see why the title is "Bedroom Games". This chapter has actually been pretty interesting write...it's one of the better parts too. Kathryn isn't the picture of strength, but I'm starting to get a feel for her character and also show how the newsboys aren't that nice.
***
The dusk of day was falling over the city, and Spot was traveling back home from a long day of selling. A warm meal was on his mind; surprisingly, Baxter was a good cook. He was also anticipating on seeing Kathryn too. She'd popped in his mind a few times during the day. There were questions of her history, but that didn't draw him to know about her - the reason she couldn't talk and yet, she could with her hands. That concept was quite foreign to him...talking with your hands?
Spot stopped long enough in the lobby of the lodging house to see what Baxter had cooked that night then headed to the bunkroom. Some of his newsies were there to greet him as he made his way to his personal space. He closed the door softly behind him; a single candle burning on the crate that stood by the bunk. Kathryn sat still on the bottom bunk staring at the floor, but raised her head cautiously to see who had entered the room. She breathed a sigh of relief when her eyes saw it was Spot.
"Hey Kathryn" he started, pulling his cane out of it's holder immediately and placing it respectively against the wall by his mirror. "How was your day? Didn't get too tired of cleaning up the boys' mess, huh?"
Kathryn shook her head and scribbled her answer on the notepad, "I didn't mind cleaning up."
Spot snorted, removing his hat and sitting down beside her. "As long as you don't mind." The tension in the room could be felt. Kathryn stared blankly, still, at the floor - not even bothering to look at him. Spot shrugged it off though. She was an odd dame anyway. "You wanna come down to eat? Baxter is making chicken soup."
"I'm not hungry" Kathryn wrote.
"You had anything to eat today?" Spot asked, casually. The girl didn't appear to be malnourished; she had a good amount of weight on her making her not seem thin.
"Bread" was her reply, followed by a sign that could obviously be that word.
Spot shrugged, standing up. "All right. I'm going downstairs. I'll be back in a while."
Kathryn let out a choked groan when he closed the door shut. She wanted so much to trust Spot, she really did. But, the run-in with Flaggler put her on the edge. She had no idea what to do in this situation. To try and run again could get her back to where she came from. To stay meant she'd be put in the torturous clutches of the newsboy who knew who she was and only wanted his way with her. The only thing she could do was sit there and cry.
***
When Spot returned to his room, Kathryn was sound asleep. He regarded her motionless figure. In the dim light, the tears that had ran down her cheeks had left stains. What was troubling her so? He undressed, blew out the candle, and climbed to his top bunk.
For the next week, that was the routine. Kathryn did chores around the lodging house with Baxter during the day while Spot sold his newspapers. At night, Kathryn sat in the candlelight in Spot's room, not wanting anything to do with the newsboys just outside the thin walls. Spot could barely convince her to join them for dinner - choosing to wait for him to bring her the leftovers - and even get her to look directly at him. *She's not blind - Spot mused - why won't she ever look at me?*
One night, Spot didn't leave for dinner. He pulled up another, smaller crate behind the bunk and sat down two feet in front of her. Kathryn's nervousness was visible as she bit her bottom lip and twisted the hem of her dress. She wondered frantically what exactly he was going to do.
Spot sat, open-legged, with his elbows resting on his legs and hands clasped together. "Look at me."
Kathryn felt his eyes digging into her like sharp knives. She didn't obey, keeping her stare to the floor. Spot tried again. "Look at me" he said, more demandingly. Still, she didn't follow his order.
Spot sighed heavily then grasped Kathryn's chin, "I said 'Look at me'," and forcefully turned her head so she would face him straight on. Her eyes locked on his instantly, and he removed his hand. "There, now that's better. I can see you, you can see me, we can look at each other and have a conversation." He recognized the expression in her glassy eyes, knowing this action must of been a regular for her. "Kathryn, you don't have to be scared of me. I won't hurt you. And whatever you're thinking, I'm not gonna do it. I have respect for a lady's privacy." She nodded to acknowledge him.
"Will you please teach me those hand gesture things you do."
Kathryn gaped. He actually wanted her to teach him sign language? She retrieved her notepad from her right side and wrote, "Yes, I will teach you whatever you want to know."
Spot's face cracked into a slight smile. "Good, that's what I wanted to hear. Tell me how to do my name."
"You need to know the alphabet first" Spot read on the notepad. "Fine, teach me that."
The two spent an hour working on the alphabet. Spot had already memorized half of it by the time it was lights out. Kathryn was, he had to admit, a good teacher in her own, silent way. He enjoyed silence though. To not have your nerves racked by the outrageous noise of the city was a settling experience. One reason he wanted to be the Brooklyn leader, to have a separate room away from everything. They continued the teachings every night since then with Spot being a very attentive student, learning everything rather quickly.
It had been nearly two and a half weeks since the incident with Flaggler. She hadn't seen hide or hair of him either, mainly because she stayed locked in Spot's room when the newsboys were around and with Baxter most of the early day. Murmurs were spreading around the lodging house that Spot was keeping the "whore" for his own satisfaction, but no one dared confronting him about that. If he had even heard the slightest whisper about Kathryn's status in his life, he'd beat whoever said that to a bloody pulp. Even Flaggler keep quiet, but for reason of his own advantage. Spot knew they were thinking it though.
Flaggler came strolling into the bunkroom - closing the door behind him - after he saw Baxter leave to run an errant. His hand grasped a slender bottle that was no doubt alcohol. Kathryn stopped her sweeping after hearing the footsteps approaching her. She nearly fainted at the sight of who it was. Flaggler staggered a bit over to her, a wicked grin plaster on his face.
"I come for my share of you. Ole' Spot has been keeping you locked up for too long."
Kathryn shook her head, helplessly. She thought fast to try and defend herself against this adversary; her broom swung wildly at Flaggler. In the midst of the swing, he caught it and yanked it from her. "I won't stand for that."
The tall newsboy throw the broom far across the room before latching hold of Kathryn's wrist. "I'm going to help you get through this easier, okay?" He took a short swig of his whisky then handed the bottle to her. "Drink it."
The glare in his eyes ate into her as she slowly took the bottle from him. In all her life, Kathryn never dreamed she'd be so far down to be at this level. Her goal as a girl was to be a helper of the deaf, mute, and blind as her hero, Helen Keller. Being commanded to drink alcohol and most likely feel the experience she dreaded most, was a thought wavered no where in her mind.
She put the bottle to her lips already tasting the disgusting liquid that was prominent on the top. Flaggler squeezed her wrist, making her cringe as she drank one sip of the awful substance. Flaggler grinned in satisfaction knowing she'd bow down to anything that gave her a command. Kathryn's mind was sparked though by an idea using the bottle in her hand; all she needed was the right moment.
Flaggler's next command was more repellent, but was not carried out along with Kathryn's plan. Baxter was calling downstairs for her. "Blast!" Flaggler exclaimed, lowly. Kathryn made her move. Instead of slamming the bottle against the boy's skull, she opened her hand letting the bottle drop to the floor. It made a loud crash, spilling the whisky all over and leaving shard glass.
"What are you doing?" Flaggler snarled, pushing her to the floor. Kathryn's heart was threatening to pound out her chest, but she keep her ground and a blank face. Flaggler pointed his finger in her face. "You whore." Baxter's footsteps were coming. "We'll continue this later." He slipped out the bunkroom before the landlord made it to the second level.
"Kathryn, what happen?" Baxter asked, upon seeing the puddle of alcohol and broken glass. Kathryn quickly whipped up an excuse and after a few minutes of showing what happen, Baxter helped her clean up the mess. Her excuse for the broken bottle wasn't at all what actually happened. She had "found" the bottle under a bunk and was bringing it downstairs when it slipped from her grasp. Baxter believed every word.
*I needn't give Baxter more trouble than I already have. If I told anyone here about where I came from, I'd be thrown out and brought back to the brothel. I'd surely be dead* - she thought as she witnessed Flaggler slither from his hiding place and disappeared down the stairs.
***
That night, Spot found Kathryn on the smaller crate in front of the mirror. His ivory-toothed comb that belonged to his mother was in her hand and she was listlessly brushing her long, brunette hair. She did not bother to turn to give him a greeting. He discarded his cane, looking on at her - waiting for a smile or gesture or anything.
Spot frowned, watching her brush her hair as if no one else was in the room. She hadn't been like this ever since he broke through her shell a few weeks prior. Almost ever night, Kathryn would teach him sign language and he would, as she ate her dinner, tell her about the happenings around the city. Rarely did personal subject come up. Even when they did have an in-depth conversation, it took so long to talk. He still didn't know anything about Kathryn; only that she lived in a boarding school for the mute and she had much book knowledge, but was not street wise.
"Kathryn" Spot called, from behind her. She ignored his called, but set down the brush in her lap. Her eyes shifted from the mirror - where she could see him - to the floor in a shameful manner. "What's wrong with you?" She disregarded him again.
Spot gritted his teeth, his temper starting to boil. What was wrong now? She was not going to start playing games with him again. He stepped up beside her, grabbing her chin, and making her look at his face. "Don't start this. I'm not gonna let you." She gestured something that Spot recognize as 'I'm sorry.' "You better be. Now, give me the comb." She handed him the comb, and he began curtly brushing her hair.
Kathryn winced every time he hit a knot. It took a few minutes until Spot's strokes became smoother and Kathryn relaxed to enjoy the brushing, her shoulders sinking from the tension that had been released. As soon as her uneasiness subsided, it flared up instantly - making her sit upright like a board was keeping her from moving.
Spot ran his hand down the churlish brown hair, fondling it with his fingers. He leaned down over Kathryn's shoulder and said, "You look pretty with your hair down; wear it down more often." He moved to her side, noticing the nervousness in her eyes. "You don't like me touching you, and you dare not to touch me. Tell me why."
"You wouldn't understand" Kathryn signed.
"You've never given me a chance to." Spot shook his head, sighing. "I ain't that bad of a guy, y'know. Sure, sometimes I see things in black'n'white, but not all the time. I've given you a roof and food, so you should know I ain't that bad."
Kathryn frowned deeply, grabbing her notepad. "I'm thankful for what you have done for me. But, everything around me is so complicated."
A heave erupted from Spot's chest, and he raised up smacking the bunk leg with his fist. "Kathryn, I have a brain! I can figure things out; just tell me!"
The mute girl shrunk to the floor, pulling her knees up and wrapping her arms around them. Spot's temper always got the best of him and the people around him. He had been the nicest person besides Baxter at the lodging house, but she found to be rather afraid of him at times.
She felt his burning glare on her, and didn't dare raise her eyes to meet his. He walked up to her, kicking her barefoot lightly with his shoed foot. He kicked her harder when she didn't respond to him. Finally, Kathryn bared her eyes to him. Spot signed to her in an abrupt manner. She, in turn, signed a retort back to him in the same abruptness.
The silent argument went on with the two signing back and forth till a pleased smirk spread over Spot's lips. "I'll be back in a while", and with that, Spot left the room - Kathryn still leaning by the bunk leg in her curled up position.
*What in the world is he trying to do???" she thought, befuddled.
***
The dusk of day was falling over the city, and Spot was traveling back home from a long day of selling. A warm meal was on his mind; surprisingly, Baxter was a good cook. He was also anticipating on seeing Kathryn too. She'd popped in his mind a few times during the day. There were questions of her history, but that didn't draw him to know about her - the reason she couldn't talk and yet, she could with her hands. That concept was quite foreign to him...talking with your hands?
Spot stopped long enough in the lobby of the lodging house to see what Baxter had cooked that night then headed to the bunkroom. Some of his newsies were there to greet him as he made his way to his personal space. He closed the door softly behind him; a single candle burning on the crate that stood by the bunk. Kathryn sat still on the bottom bunk staring at the floor, but raised her head cautiously to see who had entered the room. She breathed a sigh of relief when her eyes saw it was Spot.
"Hey Kathryn" he started, pulling his cane out of it's holder immediately and placing it respectively against the wall by his mirror. "How was your day? Didn't get too tired of cleaning up the boys' mess, huh?"
Kathryn shook her head and scribbled her answer on the notepad, "I didn't mind cleaning up."
Spot snorted, removing his hat and sitting down beside her. "As long as you don't mind." The tension in the room could be felt. Kathryn stared blankly, still, at the floor - not even bothering to look at him. Spot shrugged it off though. She was an odd dame anyway. "You wanna come down to eat? Baxter is making chicken soup."
"I'm not hungry" Kathryn wrote.
"You had anything to eat today?" Spot asked, casually. The girl didn't appear to be malnourished; she had a good amount of weight on her making her not seem thin.
"Bread" was her reply, followed by a sign that could obviously be that word.
Spot shrugged, standing up. "All right. I'm going downstairs. I'll be back in a while."
Kathryn let out a choked groan when he closed the door shut. She wanted so much to trust Spot, she really did. But, the run-in with Flaggler put her on the edge. She had no idea what to do in this situation. To try and run again could get her back to where she came from. To stay meant she'd be put in the torturous clutches of the newsboy who knew who she was and only wanted his way with her. The only thing she could do was sit there and cry.
***
When Spot returned to his room, Kathryn was sound asleep. He regarded her motionless figure. In the dim light, the tears that had ran down her cheeks had left stains. What was troubling her so? He undressed, blew out the candle, and climbed to his top bunk.
For the next week, that was the routine. Kathryn did chores around the lodging house with Baxter during the day while Spot sold his newspapers. At night, Kathryn sat in the candlelight in Spot's room, not wanting anything to do with the newsboys just outside the thin walls. Spot could barely convince her to join them for dinner - choosing to wait for him to bring her the leftovers - and even get her to look directly at him. *She's not blind - Spot mused - why won't she ever look at me?*
One night, Spot didn't leave for dinner. He pulled up another, smaller crate behind the bunk and sat down two feet in front of her. Kathryn's nervousness was visible as she bit her bottom lip and twisted the hem of her dress. She wondered frantically what exactly he was going to do.
Spot sat, open-legged, with his elbows resting on his legs and hands clasped together. "Look at me."
Kathryn felt his eyes digging into her like sharp knives. She didn't obey, keeping her stare to the floor. Spot tried again. "Look at me" he said, more demandingly. Still, she didn't follow his order.
Spot sighed heavily then grasped Kathryn's chin, "I said 'Look at me'," and forcefully turned her head so she would face him straight on. Her eyes locked on his instantly, and he removed his hand. "There, now that's better. I can see you, you can see me, we can look at each other and have a conversation." He recognized the expression in her glassy eyes, knowing this action must of been a regular for her. "Kathryn, you don't have to be scared of me. I won't hurt you. And whatever you're thinking, I'm not gonna do it. I have respect for a lady's privacy." She nodded to acknowledge him.
"Will you please teach me those hand gesture things you do."
Kathryn gaped. He actually wanted her to teach him sign language? She retrieved her notepad from her right side and wrote, "Yes, I will teach you whatever you want to know."
Spot's face cracked into a slight smile. "Good, that's what I wanted to hear. Tell me how to do my name."
"You need to know the alphabet first" Spot read on the notepad. "Fine, teach me that."
The two spent an hour working on the alphabet. Spot had already memorized half of it by the time it was lights out. Kathryn was, he had to admit, a good teacher in her own, silent way. He enjoyed silence though. To not have your nerves racked by the outrageous noise of the city was a settling experience. One reason he wanted to be the Brooklyn leader, to have a separate room away from everything. They continued the teachings every night since then with Spot being a very attentive student, learning everything rather quickly.
It had been nearly two and a half weeks since the incident with Flaggler. She hadn't seen hide or hair of him either, mainly because she stayed locked in Spot's room when the newsboys were around and with Baxter most of the early day. Murmurs were spreading around the lodging house that Spot was keeping the "whore" for his own satisfaction, but no one dared confronting him about that. If he had even heard the slightest whisper about Kathryn's status in his life, he'd beat whoever said that to a bloody pulp. Even Flaggler keep quiet, but for reason of his own advantage. Spot knew they were thinking it though.
Flaggler came strolling into the bunkroom - closing the door behind him - after he saw Baxter leave to run an errant. His hand grasped a slender bottle that was no doubt alcohol. Kathryn stopped her sweeping after hearing the footsteps approaching her. She nearly fainted at the sight of who it was. Flaggler staggered a bit over to her, a wicked grin plaster on his face.
"I come for my share of you. Ole' Spot has been keeping you locked up for too long."
Kathryn shook her head, helplessly. She thought fast to try and defend herself against this adversary; her broom swung wildly at Flaggler. In the midst of the swing, he caught it and yanked it from her. "I won't stand for that."
The tall newsboy throw the broom far across the room before latching hold of Kathryn's wrist. "I'm going to help you get through this easier, okay?" He took a short swig of his whisky then handed the bottle to her. "Drink it."
The glare in his eyes ate into her as she slowly took the bottle from him. In all her life, Kathryn never dreamed she'd be so far down to be at this level. Her goal as a girl was to be a helper of the deaf, mute, and blind as her hero, Helen Keller. Being commanded to drink alcohol and most likely feel the experience she dreaded most, was a thought wavered no where in her mind.
She put the bottle to her lips already tasting the disgusting liquid that was prominent on the top. Flaggler squeezed her wrist, making her cringe as she drank one sip of the awful substance. Flaggler grinned in satisfaction knowing she'd bow down to anything that gave her a command. Kathryn's mind was sparked though by an idea using the bottle in her hand; all she needed was the right moment.
Flaggler's next command was more repellent, but was not carried out along with Kathryn's plan. Baxter was calling downstairs for her. "Blast!" Flaggler exclaimed, lowly. Kathryn made her move. Instead of slamming the bottle against the boy's skull, she opened her hand letting the bottle drop to the floor. It made a loud crash, spilling the whisky all over and leaving shard glass.
"What are you doing?" Flaggler snarled, pushing her to the floor. Kathryn's heart was threatening to pound out her chest, but she keep her ground and a blank face. Flaggler pointed his finger in her face. "You whore." Baxter's footsteps were coming. "We'll continue this later." He slipped out the bunkroom before the landlord made it to the second level.
"Kathryn, what happen?" Baxter asked, upon seeing the puddle of alcohol and broken glass. Kathryn quickly whipped up an excuse and after a few minutes of showing what happen, Baxter helped her clean up the mess. Her excuse for the broken bottle wasn't at all what actually happened. She had "found" the bottle under a bunk and was bringing it downstairs when it slipped from her grasp. Baxter believed every word.
*I needn't give Baxter more trouble than I already have. If I told anyone here about where I came from, I'd be thrown out and brought back to the brothel. I'd surely be dead* - she thought as she witnessed Flaggler slither from his hiding place and disappeared down the stairs.
***
That night, Spot found Kathryn on the smaller crate in front of the mirror. His ivory-toothed comb that belonged to his mother was in her hand and she was listlessly brushing her long, brunette hair. She did not bother to turn to give him a greeting. He discarded his cane, looking on at her - waiting for a smile or gesture or anything.
Spot frowned, watching her brush her hair as if no one else was in the room. She hadn't been like this ever since he broke through her shell a few weeks prior. Almost ever night, Kathryn would teach him sign language and he would, as she ate her dinner, tell her about the happenings around the city. Rarely did personal subject come up. Even when they did have an in-depth conversation, it took so long to talk. He still didn't know anything about Kathryn; only that she lived in a boarding school for the mute and she had much book knowledge, but was not street wise.
"Kathryn" Spot called, from behind her. She ignored his called, but set down the brush in her lap. Her eyes shifted from the mirror - where she could see him - to the floor in a shameful manner. "What's wrong with you?" She disregarded him again.
Spot gritted his teeth, his temper starting to boil. What was wrong now? She was not going to start playing games with him again. He stepped up beside her, grabbing her chin, and making her look at his face. "Don't start this. I'm not gonna let you." She gestured something that Spot recognize as 'I'm sorry.' "You better be. Now, give me the comb." She handed him the comb, and he began curtly brushing her hair.
Kathryn winced every time he hit a knot. It took a few minutes until Spot's strokes became smoother and Kathryn relaxed to enjoy the brushing, her shoulders sinking from the tension that had been released. As soon as her uneasiness subsided, it flared up instantly - making her sit upright like a board was keeping her from moving.
Spot ran his hand down the churlish brown hair, fondling it with his fingers. He leaned down over Kathryn's shoulder and said, "You look pretty with your hair down; wear it down more often." He moved to her side, noticing the nervousness in her eyes. "You don't like me touching you, and you dare not to touch me. Tell me why."
"You wouldn't understand" Kathryn signed.
"You've never given me a chance to." Spot shook his head, sighing. "I ain't that bad of a guy, y'know. Sure, sometimes I see things in black'n'white, but not all the time. I've given you a roof and food, so you should know I ain't that bad."
Kathryn frowned deeply, grabbing her notepad. "I'm thankful for what you have done for me. But, everything around me is so complicated."
A heave erupted from Spot's chest, and he raised up smacking the bunk leg with his fist. "Kathryn, I have a brain! I can figure things out; just tell me!"
The mute girl shrunk to the floor, pulling her knees up and wrapping her arms around them. Spot's temper always got the best of him and the people around him. He had been the nicest person besides Baxter at the lodging house, but she found to be rather afraid of him at times.
She felt his burning glare on her, and didn't dare raise her eyes to meet his. He walked up to her, kicking her barefoot lightly with his shoed foot. He kicked her harder when she didn't respond to him. Finally, Kathryn bared her eyes to him. Spot signed to her in an abrupt manner. She, in turn, signed a retort back to him in the same abruptness.
The silent argument went on with the two signing back and forth till a pleased smirk spread over Spot's lips. "I'll be back in a while", and with that, Spot left the room - Kathryn still leaning by the bunk leg in her curled up position.
*What in the world is he trying to do???" she thought, befuddled.