The days passed, the Incident (as it was now referred to) became obsolete in the house, affecting no one. Except Red. Every day she spoke less and less, until the day she didn't speak unless someone spoke to her. Then came the day, about a week afterwards, that she didn't speak at all, except to yell out headlines.

Jack had called out to her. "Hey, Red! Ya wanna come with me ta Charlie's?" Charlie was known for his famous, tasty, cheap hotdogs on 7th.

She barely acknowledged his presence, only slightly shook her head, then yelled out the headline once again. Jack noticed she hadn't taken the usual seventy papes today. Only fifty. He scratched his head, determined to think on this after he had a bite to eat, and turned away.

Through the week, she continued to be reclusive, not even coming downstairs at eight like usual. A few of the guys started teasing her for freaking out over the fire, but she just threw them a death glance and went on her way. They suspected something was up, but it didn't really show itself until later.

- - - - - -

A couple weeks from the Incident, Spot came by.

"Hey, Red! What's eatin' ya?"

All he got was a sharp glance as she passed by, heading towards her room. Spot scratched his head. Normally, her reply would have been, "Maggots, dunderhead." He looked to the other newsies. Mush spoke for all of them.

"She's been that way since the fi…" before he could say anything, he was nonchalantly elbowed. He winced, coughed, and started over. "I mean the Incident."

Spot just stared at the steps Red had just vacated. His voice came out haltingly, as if he was unsure of what to say. "A little fire brought her down like that. How is that possible." His last sentence came out as a statement, the question unnecessary.

Inadvertently, he had voiced the thoughts of the newsies as a whole. How indeed, and what to do about it was the question, but no one knew quite how to go about it, since none of them knew anything about it.

Sarah knew much, but they didn't think to ask her; after all, she's only a girl. But that was their problem. They were treating Red as if she were a guy. And it was plausible, since she'd been living with them for half a year.

"Guys, I really think suptin's wrong heah."

A cacophony of sarcastic "No!" and "Really, ya think?" echoed from the huddle the newsies had unconsciously formed.

"Hey, cut it. So here's what I tink we oughta do." Here Jack leaned in, proceeding to whisper as various head bobbing and shoulder shrugging went in a wave around the group. They each headed out, a small grin on their face. Red was in danger of being killed with normalcy.

- - - - - -

The flames flicked at her skin. She drew back in panic, running out of the house just as it collapsed.

Her mother and sister were still in there

She screamed, trying to get help, trying to reach someone.

But no one heard her.

Suddenly, a man ran towards the fire licking at the house. Several others joined him. Soon, the fire was out. But her family-she knew she wouldn't find them. Their cries still rang in her ears.

An arm crossed her shoulders. She looked up into the soot-streaked face of her father. He was grimly staring at the sight.

He sighed. "Guess we gotta move on, Torii." He looked at her for the first time. Noticing the tears running down her cheeks, he spoke. "It wasn't your fault, Torii. There was nothin' you could do."

The tears just came down harder. Suddenly her face was crushed against his flannel shirt. The fabric soaked up the tears as father and daughter rocked back and forth in front of the destruction that used to be their home.

No matter what anyone said, it was her fault. And her mind repeated it. Mea culpa. Mea culpa. You could have done something. Mea culpa. It is your fault. Mea culpa. Mea culpa. You did it to yourself.

- - - - - - - -

Later that day

"Please, Red?" Blink was down on his knees now, his hands outstretched. Red looked at him, lethargic in her response. Secretly her mind was chuckling at seeing Blink begging for her to come downstairs. She was ready to refuse, but then made the mistake of looking into his eye.

She sighed and threw up her hands in defeat. "Fine. I'll go." A grin flashed across his face and he grabbed her hand. As he began dragging her down, though, she cautioned, "Don't expect too much."

Blink didn't answer. Just getting her downstairs was the key.

As they entered the large room, Red stopped. The charred area of the house had been scrubbed, repaired, and now shined with the new wood. She had even helped. All the same, she couldn't shake that strange feeling—one that she could count on one hand the times she'd felt it.

Fear.

Blink felt her trembling. He gave her a side hug, wishing he could take away her disquietude, of what he didn't know. "You don't hafta go, if you don't wanna, ya know."

Red looked at him. The situation she was in suddenly hit her like a knife. She put up a front so quickly he blinked.

"Shall we go in?" She smiled a sweet smile, so real that Blink was almost fooled. But he couldn't get his stupid intuition to shut up that something was wrong.

Instead, he took her hand and led her in.

There was a new chair—or rather, another one found off the street, still usable and not too disgusting. Specs was reading his copy of Dickens' Hard Times. Everyone was back to normal. Everything was back to normal. But why doesn't it feel normal? She mentally shrugged and moved into the room.

She was greeted like any other day, making her a little bit more comfortable. When Blink led her over to the circle of talkers, though, she stiffened. He again put a comforting arm around her shoulders, trying to get her to relax. Finally, she sat down with the others, not adding much, if anything to the conversation, but Blink could see she was trying. She even started to give Crutchy a backrub, even though it was out of nerves. No one mentioned anything about her recent reclusiveness.

Until Jack spoke. "Good ta have ya back, Red."

At this she shot up out of her seat and stared him in the face. A cold, harsh laughed filled the room with dread. Her eyes were now boring into his, making chills shimmy up his spine. Her eyes looked dead. "You never had me normal, Kelly."

Instead of going up to her room, she headed out the front door. A draft of cold air wafted into the room

The door slammed behind her, a death knell to the ears of the newsies. Dread silence took precedence over the usual chatter. Jack sat as still as stone, hands on the arms of the chair, gripping them until his knuckles turned white.

- - - - -

oh yeah, look for translations at Majstro Translation Dictionary. Its a really hard language to find.