Hey everyone! I am so so so sorry for not updating sooner. My computer broke for a week and a half. Then my teachers packed me with school work. I am not doing so good in school so I have to really concentrate. This is the longest chapter I have written so far. There are probably a lot of mistakes, but I wanted to get it up as soon as possible. There are only two more chapters left! Please don't be angry at me for making you wait so long, I didn't have a choice. Please still review and let me know what you think! Its your reviews that kept me writing.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

After running off into the darkness, I found myself wondering around the streets of Brooklyn with not a clue as to where I was going. I could hear the soft patter of footsteps behind me and I knew that someone was keeping track of my whereabouts. But as long as they didn't try and stop me, I was fine.

The wind began to blow and up until then I hadn't noticed the bitter temperature outside. I wrapped my arms around my chest to keep warm and shivered slightly. I was in such a terrible state of mind that I could hardly see through all my tears. Sometimes it completely blinded my vision and I would have to stop for a moment to regain my composure. But I would continue walking again and so would the footsteps behind me. I would question on whether or not to turn around and see who it was. But then I decided that I would be best at the moment to just pretend that whoever it was, didn't exist. I needed to be alone…well as alone as I could be.

I must have been walking around the streets for hours by the time that I made it to the Brooklyn bridge. I didn't want to go back to the Lodging House just then so I sat down on a bench outside of an old bakery once I made it into Manhattan. I didn't know what to do with myself. I didn't know how to think or to act. No matter what I did I couldn't get the sight of Booker out of my head. He was dead…and I couldn't help but blame myself. Even though in the back of my mind, I knew that it wasn't my fault at all. Nor was it anybody else's fault but Blades and I felt highly guilty about screaming at Spot on the docks. But I needed to scream…to yell….to cry and he was just there for me to take it out on.

I laid down with my back against the cold wood of the bench and stretched out. I pulled the cotton skirt of my dress beneath me and curled up. I don't know how long I just laid there sobbing but the next thing I knew I was waking up in my bed. It was early morning as yellow rays of sunlight began to shine through the window. But not enough to do anything but cast slight shadows off of the furniture. I was laying on my right side and rolled over onto my back. The dress I had been wearing the night before was still on and my face was damp from the many times I had woken up crying during the night. It didn't occur to me then that someone had carried me back to the Lodging House.

Staring at the ceiling, I sighed deeply. What happens now? How could somebody loose so many people that they love and still go on? Even though it seemed like much longer, I realized now that my parents had only been gone for close to two months and now Booker was dead. I felt guilty that while he was alive, I couldn't return his love… but he still meant the world to me. He had believed in me when everybody else had questioned my judgment. No matter how stupid I acted or vain I decided to be, he wouldn't criticize my antics but help me to understand why what I was doing was wrong.

Everybody needs someone to just sit down and talk to. I would have been able to say that Racetrack was just as good of a friend. But I looked to him for different reasons. Race was my older brother…my confidant. He was the one person who would keep me in line and tell me what was right and wrong. But Booker would just sit there and listen…without making comments and he would truly hear what I was saying. He wouldn't judge me by the small things that I did wrong, but he would rather look at the whole of who I was inside. So I guess you could say that there where three men in my life who I cared more about than anything. Racetrack was my brother, Booker was my friend and Spot was…

Spot, I had been so caught up with myself that I hadn't even considered what was happening with him. The harder I tried, the more vivid the picture of Spots face appeared in my head. I had never seen such horror in his eyes when Booker shoved him out of the way and Spot watched as the knife dug deep into his friends chest. I can't even imagine what it would feel like to have someone die for you. To know in your mind that it should have been you that was being buried in the ground. But instead you have to watch as someone else takes your fate.

In a way I hoped that it was all a dream. That I would walk out the bedroom door and nothing would have ever happened. But it was useless to even think such a thing. I no longer believed in fairy tales and the miracles that my mother had taught me when I was a little girl. I wasn't a child any longer and the moment my parents died, I had realized this. Living in a dream world only caused me more pain than I needed. Building my hopes up, only to smash them down again. In my life…happily ever after, just wasn't an option.

I closed my eyes for a second and them opened them up once more, but nothing had changed. I was still staring at the wood ceiling in my room. The same one that I had looked at for weeks. I groaned and rolled onto my opposite side. But when my eyes cleared I saw a bundle, laying in my chair. At first I didn't realize what I was looking at. But then it came to me. It wasn't a bundle but a person. I couldn't tell who it was at first but when the mysterious figure opened its eyes, I knew.

There was no doubt in my mind that the boy in my room, was Spot Conlon. I could have recognized those eyes anywhere. But for some odd reason, I wasn't startled at the fact that he was here. In a way, I felt kind of relieved. Because I was nowhere ready to face anybody else. I don't think I would ever be able to look those boys in the eyes again. In my opinion the eyes were the window to the soul and I was scared to death to see what they thought of me now.

Most people say that they don't care what others think. But deep down, social acceptance is what everybody longs for. There is always somebody that you want to fit in with or to impress. Even if its just one person…nobody likes to be hated. Now don't get me wrong, there are those people out there who love to be independent and alone. But even they have there weaknesses. Because living among the lower class of society has shown me in the worst way that nobody's invincible.

Spot and I just sat there staring at each other for close to five minutes. I didn't know what to say to him. All of my anger and built up frustration disappeared when I saw the look of pain in his eyes. He always did have a way of stealing the words out of my mouth.

"Hey," I said softly. Looking up at him, with my face laying flat on the pillow.

"Hi," he replied. His voice was low and raspy from sleep. I knew that Spot didn't know what to say either. It was a hard and uncomfortable situation to be in. Even with somebody that I felt so calm with. There was another short pause and then he spoke once more. "Are you alright?"

I was slightly surprised at his concern, but I nodded my head. "Yes," I said slowly. I didn't want to say anything more than I had to, incase I would break down into tears again. Then I stared firmly into his eyes once more. "Are you?"

He nodded his head in reply, as I had done. But just by looking at him I knew that he was lying. Yet it wasn't in his character, even when he was so weak, to admit that he was hurting. So I refused to push the subject any longer and sat up in my bed. My appearance must have looked atrocious. But Spot had seen me far worse that this and I was sure that he didn't care.

All I wanted was to break down whatever was holding us back and pour my heart out to Spot. To explain how sorry I was for hurting him and to tell him that no matter what I did I had never stopped loving him. But I couldn't…because I let fear get in the way. Yet as I sat there staring at Spot, I realized that this is what Booker wanted. He had died so that we could be together. But could it ever be the same, or would I even want to go back to how it was before. All I knew was that to get answers I would have to ask Spot…I needed to know.

Yet before I could open my mouth, Spot spoke. "I'm sorry," he said.

I stared at him bewildered…it was only the second time in my life that I had ever heard Spot Conlon apologize. "What?" I couldn't even understand what he was apologizing for.

"I'm sorry for screaming at ya and not listening ta what ya had ta say. I knew dat ya didn't kiss Booker but I was just so angry dat I wasn't thinking properly. I was gunna apologize to ya in da morning but ya left before I had da chance. I knew dat I messed up big time but I couldn't bring myself ta go and see ya in Manhattan." Spot spoke so fast that it took me a few minutes to comprehend everything. Then I looked up at him sternly.

"It wasn't your fault. I should have made it clear to Booker earlier that I didn't like him as anything more than a friend. I shouldn't have left, I should have talked to you. But you scare me when your angry, Spot. Besides I was to upset to face you."

"I tink' dat it was both of our faults." Spot replied.

I nodded my head and then looked at the ground. Spot stood up off the chair and walked over to sit down next to me. I looked up and stared into his eyes. It had been so long since he had looked at me with anything but anger in his eyes. That I had forgotten what it had felt like to see him stare at me so longingly. I knew that he needed me as much as I needed him and that somehow gave me comfort.

" I never stopped loving you Spot," I replied softly as I leaned my head against his chest. He placed his one hand on my back and ran the other one through my hair.

"I know," he said and that's all I needed. I didn't expect him to say that he loved me back. I didn't need him too because I knew by his actions, just how he felt about me. I always did.

"What happens now?" I asked him. I needed answers, I needed someone to tell me what to do. I was tired of being on my own. I couldn't take making any more decisions by myself. Because everyone that I made, somehow turned out wrong. I wanted Spot to tell me that everything was alright. That all that mattered was that we were together. But life wasn't as simple as that.

"I don't know, Dollface." he said softly. But I knew what would happen. Spot would leave and go back to Brooklyn. Everybody would be sad about Booker for awhile but then things would just go back to how they had always been. The next day the distribution bell would ring and all of the newsies would line the streets to get there papers. It was the way that things worked. When you live on the streets, people die and get locked up all the time. You just go on with life like nothing happened. But I don't think I could do that. Maybe that was my problem…that I cared to deeply about things.

I wanted to be with Spot more than anything, but no matter how hard we tried it never turned out ok…and I don't think it ever would. There was just to many things standing in the way. So I finally made my decision. I looked up into Spot eyes and I knew that he understood. "Your leaving aren't ya?"

I sat up straight and got to my feet. Walking over to the old wooden dresser I placed my hands upon the top and stared at my reflection. If I hadn't been forced to watch the slow progression, I wouldn't have been able to recognize myself. Was this what I was destined to become. I sighed and turned to Spot. "I think its for the best."

He looked down at the ground and I knew he couldn't debate with me. "But…we could make it work. I'm sure of it."

I turned around and looked at him. "This city's killing me Spot. I'm nothing here. I have no future if I stay. You…I know you will go somewhere in life, your to stubborn not to. But its not the same for me, I don't have a chance."

"What about da money you have in da bank?" he asked hopefully. As if that was enough reason to convince me.

"If I stay here, I highly doubt that I will even make it to my twenty-first birthday." I replied sorrowfully. "I only have one good reason why I shouldn't go…and that's you."

I knew that this hit him hard. Because if he truly cared about me, he wouldn't want to be the reason that I decided not to go. But I could see Spot battling with himself on what he was going to say. I knew in my heart that if he would have asked me to stay…I would have thrown all my hopes of a better life, out the window. But he didn't speak, he just lowered his eyes to the ground. "I understand," he said sadly.

I walked over to him and kneeled down on the floor, taking his hands in my own. Once again, my green eyes met with his blue one's. "If I had any choice, I would be with you forever. I love you so much and I will never forget everything that you have given me."

"I didn't give ya nothin," He replied.

"You gave me everything," I said sternly. "You saved me from falling apart and you were always there when I needed you the most. You helped me figure out how to care about people again. You showed me how to be companionate and caring towards others when I had given up hope. You helped me live."

"I didn't do all dat," Spot said as he got to his feet. I stood up also so that we were facing each other.

To his surprise, I leaned forward and kissed him softly. When I pulled away I whispered. "You did more…"

We were so in love at that moment that you never would have guessed that we had been fighting the day before. But that was the way that we had always been. I don't think I would know what to do if we didn't have our arguments. I truly believe that if we were completely the same we would get bored with each other. When I'm with Spot I never know what could happen. The main reason why I was attracted to him in the first place was because he was something new and exciting.

"So when ya leavin?" He asked sitting back down in the chair.

"In two days," I said softly. Spots eyes grew wide.

"Why so soon!" I walked over and pulled the suitcase out from beside the dresser and opened it up on the bed.

"Because I am going to live with Olivia at her aunts house in Virginia. It's a two day ride and she wants us to arrive a few weeks before the next school year starts in order to help her get the house together." I replied as I began piling some of my dresses into the suitcase.

I refused to look up at Spots face because I already knew the look that he was giving me. But he just sighed in understanding and relaxed in the chair. I think he understood that he had no choice but to let me go. No matter how hard it was going to be, it was the only hope I had left of living a normal life. If any of the other boys had the same opportunity they would take it without question, so why didn't I have the same right.

For a few minutes Spot sat there in silence and I continued scurrying around the room trying to pack my stuff. We heard the noise of the boys moving around outside my bedroom door and if it wasn't just my imagination, they were no where near as rambunctious as they normally are…today was different. I pulled out my dresser drawer and moved some stuff around. Looking for any small objects that I might of missed. When suddenly I came upon the shattered picture of my mother and the folded up note that my brother had sent me.

I hadn't seen that note since a couple of weeks ago when it was first given to me. I put it away and never looked at it since. There was so much going on that the thought of visiting my old house and meeting this man, had completely slipped my mind. I had told myself many times before that I should at least consider going to visit my brother. So I sat down on the bed and re-read the note.

I could still feel Spot staring at me from the chair but I ignored him. It didn't take me very long to finally come up with a decision. I would for once, put my aggressions aside and go to see my house for the last time before I leave. I needed some kind of closure in my life and somehow I realized that this would be the beginning. Knowing that I didn't have much time, I folded up the note and placed it into my suitcase. Turning around Spot stood up in concern.

"What's wrong?" He asked.

"I have somewhere I need to go," I replied quickly.

"Where?" Spot asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Home," That was all I said. "Now could you please step outside while I get changed."

I knew that it was an odd question to ask, considering our past relationship. But I didn't feel comfortable with him at the moment, at least not enough to change in front of him. Spot wasn't in the mood to argue so he nodded his head in agreement and walked out of the room.

I rummaged through my bag and pulled out one of the last decent clean dresses that I had. With some difficulty I finally managed to snap the corset and pull the dress up. It hung loosely on my body because of all the weight I lost. But I found a matching ribbon that I tied around my waist, making it look tighter than it was.

I walked over to the mirror and fixed my hair as best as I could, considering the fact that I hadn't brushed it properly, in a few days. Once I was finished, I held my breath and opened the door. I immediately looked at the ground and walked very fast towards the door. I made no eye contact with anybody as I made my way downstairs. They were probably wondering where I was going, but I really didn't care. For some odd reason, I could no longer look them in the face. I could hear Spot follow me down the stairs and out onto the street. He didn't say anything for a few blocks until he could hold it in no longer.

"Where exactly are ya going?" he asked curiously.

"To my old house," I replied but did not stop walking.

"Why are ya going there?"

"To meet my brother," I said staunchly. Even though I was telling the truth, it was only half of the reason. I needed to say goodbye. Because ever since the day my parents died, I had started running and I haven't stopped since. I didn't know exactly what I was running from, but I was finally slowing down and realizing that if I didn't do something to change my direction I would eventually run out of places to go.

My house was not far from my old school and it didn't take long before Spot and I reached what had used to be my home. I remembered the black iron fence that lined the yard where the grass was always green, unless glittering white with snow. I remembered how my father would demand that there be no vines upon this fence and hired extra gardeners just incase.

I walked forward and pressed upon the gate, watching as it opened with a loud creak. I put a note in my head, reminding myself to speak to my brother about oiling the hinges, it had been something that my mother always used to yell at my father about fixing. There were so many memories that I had shared with this house and it almost felt like I had traveled back in time, even for just a moment.

We walked up the stone pathway that was lined with yellow and pink rose bushes. I had planted one every year since my sixteenth birthday. I stared around closely, trying to point out anything that had changed. But there was nothing drastic that caught my eye.

I began wondering what my brother would be like and if he would have any resemblance to my father. We did not share the same mother, yet I still felt somehow connected to this stranger. There remained a slight bit of resentment in my heart, that he should have this house and I should not. But I decided that for only a day, I would put this behind me. I knew that it would have made my father proud.

Spot and I made it up onto the porch and I could tell that he was becoming uncomfortable. It was the same look that Racetrack had given me when he had taken me back to the school before. I was waiting for Spot to ask to leave, but it never came. My hand was shaking as I reached up and knocked on the door. It took a few minutes before a young dark haired maid opened it. I recognized her immediately and wondered if she did the same. It took her a few minutes before her eyes grew wide, I knew my appearance had changed drastically. "Young Miss. Grimmuald!" She exclaimed.

"How are you Clarice, it feels like ages since I saw you last." I replied as I reached in and hugged her tightly.

I knew she was uncomfortable because I had never been permitted to hug the hired help before. But I was so incredible happy to see a familiar face that I could hardly contain myself. Yet I think she understood and embraced me all the same. When we finally broke apart I smiled at her brightly. "I am sorry Miss but Mr. Grimmuald isn't here at the moment. If you would like to see him I suggest coming back at another time." Clarice replied. I was slightly disappointed that he wasn't there, but it didn't really faze me a bit.

"Actually I am here to see the house. I will be leaving for Virginia in two days and I just wanted to say goodbye." I replied. I blushed slightly, feeling rather odd for admitting my secret.

"Oh yes, I am sure that would be alright. They will not be home for many hours." In a way it felt like breaking an entering, considering I didn't have the approval of those that now owned the house. But as far as I was concerned, this would always and forever be my parents home.

Clarice moved to the side and at once I was bombarded by the familiar faces of all of the other maids. They told me there sympathies and how everything was going since my parents were gone. The cook, an old man named Gerald made me a glass of hot coco and I told them how I had been. They looked Spot over and greeted him with warm smiles. I think this made him feel slightly more comfortable.

I decided to leave him in the kitchen to listen to horrifying stories of when I was a child. Spot was finding them rather entertaining so I figured it was a good time to go off on my own. I walked from room to room and my brother had been correct at the notion that they hadn't changed a thing. There were a few trinkets that were out of place or had been brought in. But other than that, they had kept it relatively the same. Even all of the bedrooms were the same and I went into everyone but my own. I sat for a few minutes on my parents old bed, staring at the painting of the purple house that overlooked the sea. I longed for nothing more than to be in that painting, rather than here in a house haunted by the memory of my past.

Finally I made it downstairs and Spot walked with me out into the back yard. I was thrilled to see that the garden my father had built me, remained just had beautiful as it had always been. I walked over and sat down on the fountain of an angel that was placed in the middle. Spot sat down next to me and for once I was thankful for the company. I didn't know if I could handle being alone.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

I didn't speak, but just looked at my reflection in the water. How had things become so difficult. Why couldn't I go back to when I was four? When nothing else mattered but what dress I was going to wear the next day. I watched as a tear slid from my cheek and created a flow of ripples in the water. I stared up at the sky and then turned my attention to the weeping willow tree that my mother loved so dearly, that was casting shade upon us.

Spot watched me as I stood up off the cement fountain and walked over to the bottom of the tree. I knelt down on my hands and knee's and looked around. Before long I found an old branch that had just recently fallen off. Furiously I began to dig a deep hole in the earth. When I was finished I reached into a small hand bag that I had been carrying and pulled out the picture of my mother.

I stared at her beautiful face and for the first time in days, I smiled. It suddenly became clear to me that this is what she would want. She wouldn't be able to stand, living my life the way I have. My mother always told me that the most important thing in life was being happy. She wouldn't want me holding on to things in the past that would hurt me and bring me pain. So with great care I placed the picture in the hole and covered it up with fresh dirt. This was my mothers house and now a part of her would forever be here beneath the earth she loved so much. This was my final goodbye.