"Oh, dear little Cally, the sweet, innocent young Plenar girl. Are you
scared?"
Cal stood stiffly against her hard cold wooden wall, finding no comfort in her horrible position. She was alone. She had let herself be caught by scum of the earth like this. Most importantly, she had nowhere to run.
And if this wasn't enough, the man moved toward her slowly as she, a petrified immovable object, stood and watched on.
"What has Miss Cally been doing with herself?" he questioned slyly, staring deeply into her eyes, maliciousness and hate resonating from the very presence of his being.
"Nothing that concerns you," Cal whispered, attempting to control her racing pulse and fear with a shadow of defiance.
"Oh really?" the man laughed, walking a step closer to his victim. "You've been hiding, Miss Cally and do you know what?"
He paused waiting for her to answer but she stood rebelliously against her wall, allowing him to take several more steps toward her helpless state. He saw her shivering, saw the plain fear in her movements, but her eyes were hard, unyielding.
"You've made me very angry," his voice whispered this into the air between them. Dangerously it traveled to Cal's ears where she shivered involuntarily, repulsed and ready to scream.
Finally, he covered the remaining distance between them, a shadow no longer covering his face. Cal looked up into it fearfully, remembering the long sliding nose, the nice lips and the piercing brown orbs swirling with repressed anger and bubbling over with hate.
"You expected me to stay?" she murmured back, feeling her voice quiver as it left her mouth.
"Oh, Miss Cally," he replied, planting both arms to the side of her head. "It was an undeniable fact that this was so."
If the sky could have opened, could have taken her into the black infinite covered with specks of white, Cal would have welcomed it. If the ground could have shaken with force like none before and swallowed her into molten hot lava, she would have laughed gaily. Yet, none of these things would happen. She was stuck in a deadly position, burning with fear and hate, but the inescapable truth was before her. She was as good as caught.
The man, young at that, gently picked the cap off her head, releasing a mess of brown curls, and stuffed it into his coat. After he had carefully done this, Cal looking at him with fear and unexpected surprise, felt his hand gently rest on her hair, twirling a finger around a brown sweaty curl.
"What are you doing?" Cal finally said, fear propelling her voice to be louder than a whisper as the man twirled yet another piece of her hair in his fingers.
"I didn't realize," the man said, "that you had grown so much in a year. From a silly girl to this."
Slowly he ran his hands through her hair, causing a severe reaction from Cal. She smacked him hard, attempting to run from his haunting form, but was only caught again in a stronger hold.
"God damn you, Cally Plenar!" he strained viciously. "This doesn't have to be hard. You know why I'm here. You know that I'll never leave you alone until you follow me!"
Composing himself slightly, the man loosened his grip on her arms allowing some leeway for his hand to yet again travel to her hair. "It doesn't have to be unpleasant, dear Cally. Now it doesn't."
Gritting her teeth, restraining her pulsing tension to knock him over (even though this would not be possible) she managed to spit out, "And what about Christine, you bastard?"
Even the young stranger would not put up with this blow. With a quiet howl he threw her up against a wall, his anger spilling over as she kicked and hit him to relieve his abuse.
Finally, using his blinding anger to Cal's advantage, she crawled away from the brawl grasping anything she could to make him release his grip.
"Damn you!" he hissed, as he attempted to grab hold of her foot. She kicked him unrelentingly, feeling the adrenaline rush through her veins like fire.
Once his grip had been released and a wail of pain had been emitted from his detestable mouth, Cal stood and ran blindly. She ran through darkness, through fear, not even hearing the sniffles and not even feeling the salt stinging her eyes and brushing down her face in huge amounts.
It wouldn't have occurred to her that she was not alone. It didn't even cross Cal's mind that there was someone else watching this entire scene with great interest. This someone's smirk could have been seen a mile away.
Through sufficient running, and a loss of breath, Cal stopped herself near the building that Lucille had lent her a room in for the time being. She gasped for several moments, noticing several outlandish things about her presence. She was sobbing, something extremely unusual for her normal disposition and tears streamed down her cheeks. Shaking herself, she put a stop to the madness she was in, running a hand through her unruly hair in absolute overdrive.
How could he have been here? How could she have let herself be caught so easily?
"I'm an idiot. That's why," Cal, muttered her breath now completely regained.
"I'd say so."
Again, another case of whiplash struck Cal as she swung her head in the direction that the voice came from, cursing from the pain that filled her. This voice was not threatening at all, as the last had been, but still she did not enjoy the admittance to her solitude.
Spot Conlon joined her in the darkness. He swaggered nearer to her, a smirk adorning his hard features and his eyes sparkling in some unknown since of enjoyment.
"What are you doing here, Conlon?" Cal said disgustedly.
"Takin' a walk," he replied sardonically.
"Then continue walking. Don't let me interrupt."
Spot shrugged, pulling a cigarette out of his pocket and lighting it against the wall.
"I spose I could," he said puffing smoke out of his mouth.
"Quit supposing and just do it then! I'm tired of talking to you," she snapped.
"Jesus, Cal," he muttered looking at her. "Calm down. All I'se was gonna ask was what da hell was dat scene ova dere?"
It was a calm question, stated very serenely as if he were asking about the weather. However, the weather would have been a tad more agreeable then what he had said. Cal felt her insides explode in the realization of his discovery. Yet, somehow her voice remained unruffled as well.
"What scene are you referring to?"
"Oh, now we're playin' dumb?" he questioned throwing the cigarette aside. "Back dere yous sure as hell knew what ya was talkin' bout."
"What?" Cal finally said after several minutes of heated silence.
"Don't think I didn't see youses and dat man. Is dat ya little secret, Cal? You gots some guy dat's tyin ya down?"
"Your already guessing, Conlon?" she asked angrily, turning away from him. "I guess that's what you'd like to think, isn't it? I'm just some forgotten whore that happened to be someone's preference. Well, think that if you'd like. Just know that it's not true as you say it and that will be comfort enough for me."
Ready to walk away from the detestable situation she found herself in, Cal was surprised when Spot responded to what she had said.
"I ain't got skill enough to imagine you as a whore," Spot quietly managed to say. "You ain't stupid, yous can read and write, an' you weren't brought up on da streets."
"How very vigilant of you," Cal said laughing slightly.
She turned to face him again, but the smirk that had held his lips in disgust moments before was washed away. In its place was a very serious look that made Cal's smirk disperse into the air.
"He grabbed ya," Spot said, taking his cap off and wiping his brow, for humidity and heat filled this night. "I don't like that."
"Well, it's nice of you to notice this, but if you had really cared, why didn't you come get him off of me?"
The question rang into the night, but Spot did not answer it.
"You cried, Cal. I don't like that either."
"So you imagine me as someone that never cries?" she questioned again. "I am a human being after all. Then again, you wouldn't know the ways of normal human's. You're a god!"
He grimaced as she spoke. The words were joking and malice-filled, hitting him in places, he had not felt in years. He was a god to the Newsie World. He was what made everyone tick. He was the spirit and the power of influence. However, his stone-cold disposition and great fighting skills were what made people stare. He was a cold human being, untouchable to anyone else. If this was godlike, then it was Hell as well.
"Don't look at me like that, Conlon. You know what I'm saying is true. Try to deny it."
"Don't get off the subject, Cal," Spot muttered, composing himself against her defensive, cruel words. "You've got a problem and I think you need help."
Cal's humorous mood was again brought down and damp as Spot spoke. She could no longer play the "I don't know" game. He wouldn't leave her be.
"What exactly did you hear, Conlon?"
Cal stood stiffly against her hard cold wooden wall, finding no comfort in her horrible position. She was alone. She had let herself be caught by scum of the earth like this. Most importantly, she had nowhere to run.
And if this wasn't enough, the man moved toward her slowly as she, a petrified immovable object, stood and watched on.
"What has Miss Cally been doing with herself?" he questioned slyly, staring deeply into her eyes, maliciousness and hate resonating from the very presence of his being.
"Nothing that concerns you," Cal whispered, attempting to control her racing pulse and fear with a shadow of defiance.
"Oh really?" the man laughed, walking a step closer to his victim. "You've been hiding, Miss Cally and do you know what?"
He paused waiting for her to answer but she stood rebelliously against her wall, allowing him to take several more steps toward her helpless state. He saw her shivering, saw the plain fear in her movements, but her eyes were hard, unyielding.
"You've made me very angry," his voice whispered this into the air between them. Dangerously it traveled to Cal's ears where she shivered involuntarily, repulsed and ready to scream.
Finally, he covered the remaining distance between them, a shadow no longer covering his face. Cal looked up into it fearfully, remembering the long sliding nose, the nice lips and the piercing brown orbs swirling with repressed anger and bubbling over with hate.
"You expected me to stay?" she murmured back, feeling her voice quiver as it left her mouth.
"Oh, Miss Cally," he replied, planting both arms to the side of her head. "It was an undeniable fact that this was so."
If the sky could have opened, could have taken her into the black infinite covered with specks of white, Cal would have welcomed it. If the ground could have shaken with force like none before and swallowed her into molten hot lava, she would have laughed gaily. Yet, none of these things would happen. She was stuck in a deadly position, burning with fear and hate, but the inescapable truth was before her. She was as good as caught.
The man, young at that, gently picked the cap off her head, releasing a mess of brown curls, and stuffed it into his coat. After he had carefully done this, Cal looking at him with fear and unexpected surprise, felt his hand gently rest on her hair, twirling a finger around a brown sweaty curl.
"What are you doing?" Cal finally said, fear propelling her voice to be louder than a whisper as the man twirled yet another piece of her hair in his fingers.
"I didn't realize," the man said, "that you had grown so much in a year. From a silly girl to this."
Slowly he ran his hands through her hair, causing a severe reaction from Cal. She smacked him hard, attempting to run from his haunting form, but was only caught again in a stronger hold.
"God damn you, Cally Plenar!" he strained viciously. "This doesn't have to be hard. You know why I'm here. You know that I'll never leave you alone until you follow me!"
Composing himself slightly, the man loosened his grip on her arms allowing some leeway for his hand to yet again travel to her hair. "It doesn't have to be unpleasant, dear Cally. Now it doesn't."
Gritting her teeth, restraining her pulsing tension to knock him over (even though this would not be possible) she managed to spit out, "And what about Christine, you bastard?"
Even the young stranger would not put up with this blow. With a quiet howl he threw her up against a wall, his anger spilling over as she kicked and hit him to relieve his abuse.
Finally, using his blinding anger to Cal's advantage, she crawled away from the brawl grasping anything she could to make him release his grip.
"Damn you!" he hissed, as he attempted to grab hold of her foot. She kicked him unrelentingly, feeling the adrenaline rush through her veins like fire.
Once his grip had been released and a wail of pain had been emitted from his detestable mouth, Cal stood and ran blindly. She ran through darkness, through fear, not even hearing the sniffles and not even feeling the salt stinging her eyes and brushing down her face in huge amounts.
It wouldn't have occurred to her that she was not alone. It didn't even cross Cal's mind that there was someone else watching this entire scene with great interest. This someone's smirk could have been seen a mile away.
Through sufficient running, and a loss of breath, Cal stopped herself near the building that Lucille had lent her a room in for the time being. She gasped for several moments, noticing several outlandish things about her presence. She was sobbing, something extremely unusual for her normal disposition and tears streamed down her cheeks. Shaking herself, she put a stop to the madness she was in, running a hand through her unruly hair in absolute overdrive.
How could he have been here? How could she have let herself be caught so easily?
"I'm an idiot. That's why," Cal, muttered her breath now completely regained.
"I'd say so."
Again, another case of whiplash struck Cal as she swung her head in the direction that the voice came from, cursing from the pain that filled her. This voice was not threatening at all, as the last had been, but still she did not enjoy the admittance to her solitude.
Spot Conlon joined her in the darkness. He swaggered nearer to her, a smirk adorning his hard features and his eyes sparkling in some unknown since of enjoyment.
"What are you doing here, Conlon?" Cal said disgustedly.
"Takin' a walk," he replied sardonically.
"Then continue walking. Don't let me interrupt."
Spot shrugged, pulling a cigarette out of his pocket and lighting it against the wall.
"I spose I could," he said puffing smoke out of his mouth.
"Quit supposing and just do it then! I'm tired of talking to you," she snapped.
"Jesus, Cal," he muttered looking at her. "Calm down. All I'se was gonna ask was what da hell was dat scene ova dere?"
It was a calm question, stated very serenely as if he were asking about the weather. However, the weather would have been a tad more agreeable then what he had said. Cal felt her insides explode in the realization of his discovery. Yet, somehow her voice remained unruffled as well.
"What scene are you referring to?"
"Oh, now we're playin' dumb?" he questioned throwing the cigarette aside. "Back dere yous sure as hell knew what ya was talkin' bout."
"What?" Cal finally said after several minutes of heated silence.
"Don't think I didn't see youses and dat man. Is dat ya little secret, Cal? You gots some guy dat's tyin ya down?"
"Your already guessing, Conlon?" she asked angrily, turning away from him. "I guess that's what you'd like to think, isn't it? I'm just some forgotten whore that happened to be someone's preference. Well, think that if you'd like. Just know that it's not true as you say it and that will be comfort enough for me."
Ready to walk away from the detestable situation she found herself in, Cal was surprised when Spot responded to what she had said.
"I ain't got skill enough to imagine you as a whore," Spot quietly managed to say. "You ain't stupid, yous can read and write, an' you weren't brought up on da streets."
"How very vigilant of you," Cal said laughing slightly.
She turned to face him again, but the smirk that had held his lips in disgust moments before was washed away. In its place was a very serious look that made Cal's smirk disperse into the air.
"He grabbed ya," Spot said, taking his cap off and wiping his brow, for humidity and heat filled this night. "I don't like that."
"Well, it's nice of you to notice this, but if you had really cared, why didn't you come get him off of me?"
The question rang into the night, but Spot did not answer it.
"You cried, Cal. I don't like that either."
"So you imagine me as someone that never cries?" she questioned again. "I am a human being after all. Then again, you wouldn't know the ways of normal human's. You're a god!"
He grimaced as she spoke. The words were joking and malice-filled, hitting him in places, he had not felt in years. He was a god to the Newsie World. He was what made everyone tick. He was the spirit and the power of influence. However, his stone-cold disposition and great fighting skills were what made people stare. He was a cold human being, untouchable to anyone else. If this was godlike, then it was Hell as well.
"Don't look at me like that, Conlon. You know what I'm saying is true. Try to deny it."
"Don't get off the subject, Cal," Spot muttered, composing himself against her defensive, cruel words. "You've got a problem and I think you need help."
Cal's humorous mood was again brought down and damp as Spot spoke. She could no longer play the "I don't know" game. He wouldn't leave her be.
"What exactly did you hear, Conlon?"