Disclaimer-I don't own Spot Conlon and the song belongs to Linkin Park.
Anything else that turns up in the story, I own.
Spot was sitting in his room like he usually did after selling.
Thinking about his past. His parents. Especially his older brother. Luke
had been Spot's saving grace from their father. The only one that was
willing to take a beating for him. The memory of that last night was
eating him alive and it wasn't like he had to think about it. He was doing
it himself. All the boys downstairs thought he was safe in his room.
Unless he tried to do something to himself but they didn't think Spot
Conlon could ever do that.
"Memories consume
Like opening the wound.
I'm picking me apart again.
You all assume
I'm safe here in my room.
Unless I try to start again."
He actually didn't want the battles that came to him. Mostly he
didn't want the inner ones. He knew all the boys down those steps thought
that the rest of the Newsies from other boroughs were screwed up. What if
they found out that their leader was the confused one. Spot knew damn well
he was screwed up. He always had been. From the night he had slipped out
of the house when he was 11 to see that girl. How Luke had taken the
beating from their father. How that fight replayed in Kellen 'Spot'
Conlon's head over and over again until it tore his heart to pieces. What
was left of it at least.
"I don't want to be the one
The battles always choose
Cause inside I realize
That I'm the one confused."
Now, Spot held a pistol in his left hand. He didn't know why he
still fought. He had two years and then he would leave the Newsies. He
wouldn't be considered that leader that looked for a fight. Asked for
fights. But did they ever take a second to wander why he was so malicious?
None of them did. He didn't understand it himself at first. Now he did.
He knew what had taken all feeling from his soul. It was his father
pushing Luke backward...how Luke had stumbled and fallen down the steps just
as Kellen walked in. The dull crunch that followed and Luke's lifeless
corpse at the bottom of the steps. He knew it wasn't alright that he
treated the boys wrong for something they didn't even know about. He
didn't know why he said he liked fighting when really, he despised it. So
he had picked up that pistol and he planned to end it all tonight.
"I don't know what's worth fighting for
Or why I have to scream.
I don't know why I instigate
And say what I don't mean.
I don't know how I got this way.
I know it's not alright.
So I'm breaking the habit.
I'm breaking the habit tonight."
Spot closed his eyes and walked to the door. He stepped outside and
looked down the steps, listening to the boys downstairs. How happy they
were. How unhappy he was. He went back inside and locked the door as
tight as it would go and tried to catch his breath. His heart ached with
the pain left inside from witnessing Luke's death...from being the reason
their father had beaten on Luke that night. He clutched the gun and
thought, 'No oddah options Kellen. Dere's nothin' else ya can do ta stop
dis pain.'
"Clutching my cure,
I tightly lock the door.
I try to catch my breath again.
I hurt much more
Than anytime before.
I have no options left again."
He sighed. The boys had been great. It was the best thing that
could have happened to him and kept him around for longer than he would
have been. He knew how confused he was about everything. Women, his
family, his friends, and his job. Girls were toys, his family was useless,
his friends feared him, and his job...well, it was fun but it wouldn't
support him forever. It was ending. Newspaper stands would take over
soon. There was no reason for him to go on. 'Ya could leave an' see a
doctah 'bout dis. Ya shouldn't want ta hoit yaself,' He thought. But he
couldn't see a doctor. They would call him insane. Perhaps he was insane.
"I don't want to be the one
The battles always choose.
Cause inside I realize
That I'm the one confused"
Spot was so tired of life. He knew he wasn't going to get better no
matter what doctors said. He was sick. He was sick in the head. He
wanted this pain to end. It ached his heart. There were other things that
made him think he wanted death too. Like that girl. His girlfriend.
Annabelle, and they had called her Belle. A gorgeous Scottish beauty. He
had loved her and then she up and got married to some rich hotel tycoon.
'Life is wonderful ta ya Kellen Conlon,' He thought bitterly.
"I don't know what's worth fighting for
Or why I have to scream.
I don't know why I instigate
And say what I don't mean.
I don't know how I got this way.
I'll never be alright.
So, I'm breaking the habit.
I'm breaking the habit tonight."
He lifted the pocket knife from his pocket and cut a slice into his
palm. The blood pooled in his hand. He dipped a finger in it and wrote on
the wall, "I'm sorry Luke. This is who I am. I'm gonna fall. This is how
I end." Then he signed it 'Kellen Patrick Conlon' and wiped the blood on
his pants. He lifted the pistol a final time and placed in his mouth.
"I'll paint it on the walls.
Cause I'm the one that falls.
I'll never fight again
and this is how it ends."
Spot stood for a good moment before taking the pistol out of his
mouth. He opened the door again and looked down at the other boys. They
were all so happy and oblivious to the turmoil that would hit them soon.
He whispered, "Goodbye." Then went back in the room, re-locking it.
Placing the pistol back in his mouth, he thought about the last fight Luke
and his father had...and he pulled the trigger.
"I don't know what's worth fighting for
Or why I have to scream.
But now I have some clarity
to show you what I mean.
I don't know how I got this way
I'll never be alright.
So, I'm breaking the habit.
I'm breaking the habit.
I'm Breaking the habit tonight."
The boys downstairs heard the shot and ran up the steps. Spot lay on
the floor, limp with blood pooling around his body. The message on the
wall told the true story. His right hand man, Blade, sat down next to his
body. "I was wanderin' when ya'd give up. I knew somethin' was wrong."
And thus was the end of Spot Conlon.
Anything else that turns up in the story, I own.
Spot was sitting in his room like he usually did after selling.
Thinking about his past. His parents. Especially his older brother. Luke
had been Spot's saving grace from their father. The only one that was
willing to take a beating for him. The memory of that last night was
eating him alive and it wasn't like he had to think about it. He was doing
it himself. All the boys downstairs thought he was safe in his room.
Unless he tried to do something to himself but they didn't think Spot
Conlon could ever do that.
"Memories consume
Like opening the wound.
I'm picking me apart again.
You all assume
I'm safe here in my room.
Unless I try to start again."
He actually didn't want the battles that came to him. Mostly he
didn't want the inner ones. He knew all the boys down those steps thought
that the rest of the Newsies from other boroughs were screwed up. What if
they found out that their leader was the confused one. Spot knew damn well
he was screwed up. He always had been. From the night he had slipped out
of the house when he was 11 to see that girl. How Luke had taken the
beating from their father. How that fight replayed in Kellen 'Spot'
Conlon's head over and over again until it tore his heart to pieces. What
was left of it at least.
"I don't want to be the one
The battles always choose
Cause inside I realize
That I'm the one confused."
Now, Spot held a pistol in his left hand. He didn't know why he
still fought. He had two years and then he would leave the Newsies. He
wouldn't be considered that leader that looked for a fight. Asked for
fights. But did they ever take a second to wander why he was so malicious?
None of them did. He didn't understand it himself at first. Now he did.
He knew what had taken all feeling from his soul. It was his father
pushing Luke backward...how Luke had stumbled and fallen down the steps just
as Kellen walked in. The dull crunch that followed and Luke's lifeless
corpse at the bottom of the steps. He knew it wasn't alright that he
treated the boys wrong for something they didn't even know about. He
didn't know why he said he liked fighting when really, he despised it. So
he had picked up that pistol and he planned to end it all tonight.
"I don't know what's worth fighting for
Or why I have to scream.
I don't know why I instigate
And say what I don't mean.
I don't know how I got this way.
I know it's not alright.
So I'm breaking the habit.
I'm breaking the habit tonight."
Spot closed his eyes and walked to the door. He stepped outside and
looked down the steps, listening to the boys downstairs. How happy they
were. How unhappy he was. He went back inside and locked the door as
tight as it would go and tried to catch his breath. His heart ached with
the pain left inside from witnessing Luke's death...from being the reason
their father had beaten on Luke that night. He clutched the gun and
thought, 'No oddah options Kellen. Dere's nothin' else ya can do ta stop
dis pain.'
"Clutching my cure,
I tightly lock the door.
I try to catch my breath again.
I hurt much more
Than anytime before.
I have no options left again."
He sighed. The boys had been great. It was the best thing that
could have happened to him and kept him around for longer than he would
have been. He knew how confused he was about everything. Women, his
family, his friends, and his job. Girls were toys, his family was useless,
his friends feared him, and his job...well, it was fun but it wouldn't
support him forever. It was ending. Newspaper stands would take over
soon. There was no reason for him to go on. 'Ya could leave an' see a
doctah 'bout dis. Ya shouldn't want ta hoit yaself,' He thought. But he
couldn't see a doctor. They would call him insane. Perhaps he was insane.
"I don't want to be the one
The battles always choose.
Cause inside I realize
That I'm the one confused"
Spot was so tired of life. He knew he wasn't going to get better no
matter what doctors said. He was sick. He was sick in the head. He
wanted this pain to end. It ached his heart. There were other things that
made him think he wanted death too. Like that girl. His girlfriend.
Annabelle, and they had called her Belle. A gorgeous Scottish beauty. He
had loved her and then she up and got married to some rich hotel tycoon.
'Life is wonderful ta ya Kellen Conlon,' He thought bitterly.
"I don't know what's worth fighting for
Or why I have to scream.
I don't know why I instigate
And say what I don't mean.
I don't know how I got this way.
I'll never be alright.
So, I'm breaking the habit.
I'm breaking the habit tonight."
He lifted the pocket knife from his pocket and cut a slice into his
palm. The blood pooled in his hand. He dipped a finger in it and wrote on
the wall, "I'm sorry Luke. This is who I am. I'm gonna fall. This is how
I end." Then he signed it 'Kellen Patrick Conlon' and wiped the blood on
his pants. He lifted the pistol a final time and placed in his mouth.
"I'll paint it on the walls.
Cause I'm the one that falls.
I'll never fight again
and this is how it ends."
Spot stood for a good moment before taking the pistol out of his
mouth. He opened the door again and looked down at the other boys. They
were all so happy and oblivious to the turmoil that would hit them soon.
He whispered, "Goodbye." Then went back in the room, re-locking it.
Placing the pistol back in his mouth, he thought about the last fight Luke
and his father had...and he pulled the trigger.
"I don't know what's worth fighting for
Or why I have to scream.
But now I have some clarity
to show you what I mean.
I don't know how I got this way
I'll never be alright.
So, I'm breaking the habit.
I'm breaking the habit.
I'm Breaking the habit tonight."
The boys downstairs heard the shot and ran up the steps. Spot lay on
the floor, limp with blood pooling around his body. The message on the
wall told the true story. His right hand man, Blade, sat down next to his
body. "I was wanderin' when ya'd give up. I knew somethin' was wrong."
And thus was the end of Spot Conlon.