Author note: Okay, so the last chapter was disgusting, but I did warn you. Let's see how this chapter goes.

I stumbled to the infirmary, looking like one of them homeless people who just lost a fight. One of the nurses cleaned my wounds, but she wasn't gentle about it. She stitched up my leg, and wrapped a bandage around it tightly.

I walked back to my room, still shaken from searching through dead bodies.

"Anomie, you passed!" Erica shrieked once I walked through the door.

Her smile turned to a frown when she saw the sickly look on my face and I collapsed on the bed. Stephen and Cadince jumped up at once.

"Anomie, what happened?" Stephen asked.

"I hate dead people," I mumbled into my pillow, ready to puke at any given time.

"Was it worse than last time?" Cadince asked.

I sat up in bed and winced from the pain in my leg. "No," I lied. Like I'd ever admit to it being horrible, yeah right.

"What's that on your leg?" Erica asked, seeing the bandage poking out from my skirt.

I sighed and shook my head. "I got in a fight with an axe. The axe won."

"You had to get stitches?" Cadince asked.

"It's not that bad," I shrugged. "I don't really want to talk about it."

After washing up, and trying not to puke, Stephen and I left for Brooklyn. Erica still wasn't feeling well, and Cadince was summoned by her uncle.

I limped alongside of Stephen to the docks, which was completely empty except for two people.

"Hey Spot," Stephen greeted Brooklyn's jackass.

Blade was standing beside Spot, grinning.

"Stephen, can I speak with you?" Blade asked.

"Lemme guess. It's about Erica," Stephen said.

Blade blushed and pulled Stephen away. Far away. Leaving me alone with Spot. I sent him a dark glare and looked out at the water.

"Where's your prostitute, Conlon?" I asked rudely.

"I got rid of 'er," Spot shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets and leaning against a pile of crates.

"Why? She wasn't good enough for you?" I asked disgustedly.

Spot stared out at the setting sun as I sat down and hung my legs over the side.

"Nobody is good enough for me," he said proudly.

I looked up at him with hateful eyes. "Well you just have yourself all figured out now don't you?" I asked.

"Sure do," he answered.

"Then I'm sure you've already concluded that you're a real ass," I hissed.

Spot met my eyes, his fiery, mine icy. "There isn't much room for you ta talk, sweetheart," he said.

"Oh I know I'm an ass. But do you know that you are?"

"I know I'm one. And I know I'm tougher den you," he said, kicking the side of my calf lightly.

I winced at the throbbing pain his light kick caused and clutched my fists. Spot saw the painful look in my eyes, and raised his eyebrows.

"What's with you, Anorm?" he asked.

"None of your business," I told him enigmatically. I pressed my palm over my wound and closed my eyes.

"Whatevah," Spot shrugged.

I sat there on the docks, looking down at my reflection in the bluish gray water.

"What do ya see, Anorm?" Spot asked softly, bending down beside me.

I was surprised to hear such softness in his voice, but replied, "Just some stupid, lost girl." I threw a rock down at my reflection and it rippled and then went back in place.

Spot furrowed his eyebrows and stared over the side at our reflections.

"What do you see?" I asked, glancing over at him.

He stared down at the water as if he were in thought, and then looked back up at me. "I see one rough goil, and a very lonely boy."

"What makes you lonely?" I asked confusedly.

"You don't know da half of it," he sighed, sitting down so that one leg was hanging over the side and the other propped up beside him, resting his elbow on his knee.

"Wait, you have girls all over you hot shot, you can't be lonely," I said.

"It's like bein in a crowded room, Anorm, but you still feel like yer da only one there," Spot told me.

"Look around, Conlon, you just might be the only one there," I said.

Spot looked over at me, his eyes squinted in wonderment. "What makes you different?" he asked.

"Different from what?"

"From everyone else."

I rolled my eyes and leaned back. "Don't tell me I'm different. Everyone who's different is a freak," I said.

"You are a freak," Spot said, not one bit of sarcasm in his voice.

"I'm just trying to survive," I said honestly.

The sun seemed to be getting lower and lower, making the scene before me even more beautiful. Spot's presence made me tense, but other than that it was peaceful.

"Why do you argue with me?" the newsie beside me asked.

"That's an easy one. Because I don't get along with cocky, self-absorbed people," I said proudly.

Spot laughed at that one – I mean really laughed. It was like hearing a foreign language being spoken on a wild carriage heading for a steep cliff.

"You think I'm cocky?" he asked, a grin playing on his face.

I stared at him as if he were an alien. "Are you drunk?" I asked cautiously.

This made Spot grin even wider. "Nah," he said. "It's just…nobody ever had da guts ta evah stand up ta me da way you do."

"Well that's sad," I said, looking down at the water.

Spot pulled off his cap and ruffled his hair. "I don't know how Cromwell puts up with ya, Anorm," he said. "Yer a handful."

"How would you know? You barely even know me," I said, glaring at him.

Spot shrugged, "I don't need ta know you to know what yer like," he said.

"Yeah, and I thought I was out of my mind," I muttered.

"You are," Spot said, taking in a deep breath.

"I hate you," I admitted, looking over at him.

"Ah, dat's what you say, but do you really mean it?" Spot asked.

"Let me think about that….Yes."

"Oh well, dat's jus' one less person," he said.

"Well aren't I just inferior?" I sent Spot another glare.

"You know, Anorm, we could get along if you'd jus' quit bein so insecure," Spot said.

"I'm not insecure," I snapped. "And I don't want to get along with a jackass like you."

"Well I'm not da one beatin myself up because I'm no greater den everyone else," Spot said, looking down at my hurt calf.

"I'm not beating myself up," I said, shivering from the memory of dead bodies. "Do you think I'm suicidal?"

"Maybe," Spot said.

"Well I'm not," I argued.

"Den why do you keep wearin dis?" he asked, grabbing my right arm to show my bandaged wrist. Apparently the idiot doesn't see the bandage on my other friend's wrists. Oh wait, they wear long sleeves…Damn it!

"What, is it against the law now to wear bandages?" I asked, trying to pull my arm away, but he just pulled back.

"What's under it?" he asked, a look I couldn't describe in his eye.

"Nothing!" I said, pulling on my arm.

Spot pried at the bandage with his other hand, and I jerked away. This made me hit my wound, and I moaned in pain, which gave Spot the advantage and he pulled my bandage off completely.

He stared down at the carved number on my wrist and traced his fingers over it. "Are you insane?" he yelled.

I got to my feet, the stitches in my calf now open and blood seeping down my leg.

"You just couldn't mind your own business, could you?" I yelled back.

"You're hoiting yerself, Anorm, you need help!" he argued.

"I told you, I'm not doing this!"

"Den who is? Somebody who sneaks in your room at night and tortures you?" he yelled.

"You know nothing about me, so don't start coming up with bullshit!" I screamed.

"I'm jus' tryin ta help-"

"Well don't!"

"Damn it, Parker, do you want ta kill yerself?" he asked.

"Why do you care?" I shouted.

Spot stared at me with cold eyes. "Fine, I don't, kill yerself. I don't care, but yer friends might."

My bandaged floated in the river, and I felt the urge to jump in and grab it. "You're just getting in the way, Conlon. Don't get anymore involved then you already are!"

And with that said I marched away, yearning to jump in the river and die.

I found myself back in the infirmary at school, getting my wound re-stitched. After that I cleaned up and put another bandage around my wrist, trying to calm myself down. One of Ned's spies had to see that, and probably already reported it to him.

As I was walking down the hall to my room, somebody stopped me.

"Anomie Parker," the man said in a deep, unkind voice. "You are wanted at the front desk."

I found no need to argue back and followed him to the front desk where a bunch of men dressed in dark colors stood.

"You have ten minutes," one said, opening the door to a room.

I gave him an odd look but entered the room, hoping this wasn't another test. Once the door closed I looked ahead of me and felt my eyes water.

"Anomie!" Daniel shrieked, running up to me.

I dropped to my knees – which was very painful – and wrapped my arms around my ten-year-old brother. Tears traced down his face, and I held mine in.

"Oh God, Daniel," I said, holding onto him tightly.

We then broke apart and I examined him intently. He had a bruise right under his right eye, a busted lip, and a scar going across his forehead.

"What have they done to you?" I whispered, running my fingers through his bright, blonde hair.

"Can I come home now?" he asked weakly, his eyes pleading me.

"I wish you could," I told him. "I wish we both could go home."

Daniel wiped at his tears and sniffed. "I don't like those people, Anomie. They're mean and rude," he said.

"I know," I said, hugging him once more. "I know."

"Do you think they'll let us free?" Daniel asked me.

I stared at him, feeling nothing but pity and hurt. "Listen, Danny; we'll be free soon, I promise. I'll do my best to pass. I can't fail, I won't!"

"Anomie, it's been five years," Daniel sobbed. "I wanna come home."

"You just, you just hold on, okay? I'm not waiting any longer. I can't," I told him. I wiped away one of his stray tears and smiled at him. "Once we're free, we'll move to a nice area, where you'll make friends and go to school, and I'll take care of you."

"Why does father hate us?" Daniel asked sadly.

I looked down at the ground and sighed. "Greed can turn anybody into a traitor, Dan. Remember that."

"I thought I saw mother, yesterday," he said, looking serious. "The woman looked just like her, and was very sweet. She took care of me for the day, but then she left."

"Some people are good," I said, trying to smile again.

"Am I good?" Daniel asked.

My eyes softened and my heart sank. "Yes, Danny. You're good."

"Are you good?" he asked me.

I blinked a few times and frowned. "I don't think good describes me anymore, Dan."

Daniel shook his head and patted my shoulder. "You're good, Anomie. I know you are. You're my sister."

Tears finally fell down my cheeks. I bowed my head and closed my eyes shut tight.

"I'm sorry, Daniel," I whispered. "I am so sorry."

I just couldn't believe that I was seeing him in person again. It was like a miracle – like magic. I wanted time to stop and let this moment never end. He looked so pale and sick, but still managed to smile.

"Why are you sorry, Anomie?" he asked.

I didn't answer his question. Instead I gripped him into another hug and never let go. This time I couldn't hold onto my pride and cried like I never have before.

"Times up," the man said, opening the door.

I pulled away from Daniel and kissed his forehead. "I love you, okay?" I said.

"I love you too, sis," he said, smiling.

I got to my feet and stared down at him. Leaving was the hardest thing to do. The man grabbed my arm and pulled me out, and I watched Daniel stand alone in the middle of the room, crying.

We had to come up with a plan soon, and if we didn't then I'd probably go insane. There wasn't a way out, so we had to make one…Even if we died trying.

Next Chapter: Anomie is worried about Spot find out the truth, and even more worried about this new respect she holds for him.

Author note: Yeah, yeah, touchy chapter.