It was obvious that neither Spot nor Skittery was pleased about being babysat as the pair stomped behind Chance, selling their papers the next day. Chance ignored their bad moods, and tried unsuccessfully to joke with them. By then end of the day, he was frustrated with them, and trying hard not to show it.
"So, you's two wanna grab a bite ta eat at da diner?" He asked. They both shrugged, and Chance could see Skittery's eyes moving rapidly back and forth, watching for an opportunity. He placed a hand on each of their shoulders, steering them in the right direction, hoping the boys got the point that he wasn't letting them out of his sight.
He opened the door, ushering them in, and was relieved to see almost every Brooklyn newsie sprawled around the dinner. Some sat at the booths, with the torn black vinyl and cracked tables, other sat at the bar, perched on the uneven barstools, and the rest sat in the chairs, backwards with their arms slung over the back, or tipping the chairs back precariously, or using one to sit on and one to prop their feet on. Everyone had remnants of their dinner on plates in front of them, and the older boys had mugs of beer, while the younger ones had mainly milk or water. The faded off white paint on the walls was chipping, the tiled floor squeaked loudly under their boots, and the waiters and bartenders didn't know how to smile. But this was the newsies hang out, and you rarely found someone who wasn't a newsie or a child worker there.
Spot and Skittery sat at a table in the corner, slouched in their seats, and Chance made his way around the room, stopping to chat with everyone, and still keeping one eye on the boys. He eventually lowered himself into a seat joining Razz, Sweets, and Spades and was quickly caught up in an animated conversation about the day with the others. He forgot to pay attention to the young boys, and no one else was either.
Skittery saw their opening, and grabbed Spot's sleeve, and the two made their way out of the diner and back onto the streets without being noticed. Skittery broke into a run the second his feet touched the cobblestone, and Spot was right behind him, more than willing to play a part in the master plan.
"Dere's no way dey's gonna be asleep yet. We's gotta wait for awhile," Skittery panted when they finally stopped running, cutting into a back alley to wait it out. He sank down against the wall, and Spot followed suit, as they waited for the city around them to go to sleep.
Chance glanced over to check on the boys and swore out loud. "Where da hell did dey go?"
Razz and Spades shrugged. Sweets said something unhelpful around his bite of sandwich.
"Dammit, c'mon you's guys," Chance stood up, scraping the chair back, not giving the others much of a choice but to abandon dinner and follow. "Bull! You's too!"
Bull groused, but got up just the same, meeting the others on the sidewalk.
"Okay, spread out and comb da city. Meet back at da lodgin' house in an hour," Chance ordered, turning and heading towards where he'd followed Skittery the night before. Sneaky little brat, can't take me eyes off 'em for one damn second. Chance griped to himself as his eyes adjusted to the dim twilight, and he peered around for them. They weren't at the apartment from the night before, they weren't at the docks, and they weren't in any of the restaurants Chance checked. Discouraged, he walked back to the lodging house, slamming his change on the table and scribbling his name in the book so hard he tore the paper.
"I take it ya didn't find 'em?" Lawrence asked, unnecessarily.
Chance shook his head, "No one else did neither den?"
"Nah, sorry."
Disgruntled, Chance sat down in the common room, then stood back up and started pacing the room.
"Dat ain't gonna help any, Chance," Sweets informed him, chewing on the cigar dangling from his lips. "Why don't you's an' I go back out?" He offered.
Chance gave a curt nod, and immediately headed for the door. Not bothering to see if Sweets was following him or not.
Spot shook his older cousin awake urgently. "Skittery. Skittery! It's late enough. C'mon!"
Skittery blinked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and yawning as he batted Spot away trying to form a coherent sentence. Mumbling, he finally stood up when Spot tugged at him, and he stumbled along behind the younger boy, shaking himself awake. They darted in and out of side streets; eyes wide for Chance, and came to a stop at their old apartment. Both boys leaned over, hands on knees, out of breath.
Silently, Skittery pointed toward the dark windows, and he reached a hand in his pocket, feeling for the comfort of the steel blade. He nudged Spot, raising his eyebrows in question. Spot nodded, gesturing towards his own pocket, and the two crept their way up the steps and into the apartment.
Nervously, Spot followed Skittery into the bedroom, where the sleeping figures of their parents lie. Spot headed over to his parents bed, and Skittery went to his. Sot was starting to have doubts about the solidity of Skittery's plan. They locked eyes across the room, and Skittery gave the younger boy a nod of encouragement, as he raised his knife, and brought it plunging down into his father's throat. Over and over again, he brought it down. His brain barely registered the screams from his mom and his aunt, the more he stabbed, the more the rage inside him built up.
He didn't notice Spot who'd backed into a corner of the room, eyes wide with terror. He did notice his uncle coming towards him though, and he quickly turned, shoving the blade that dripped with his own father's blood straight into the side of Spot's father. Images of the beatings he received at the hands of them accompanied a soundtrack of the hateful words that repeated in his head, as he rhythmically stabbed the life out of his uncle. With each outwards yank of the knife, blood spewed from the blade, painting the Skittery and the wall behind him.
The world around him started to spin, and he looked down at his hands, convinced they didn't belong to him. They were covered in blood, and the knife fell from them, clattering to the ground. The whirring in his head drowned out the women's screams, and he could feel his heart pounding against his chest. He tried to focus his eyes, as the world around him took on a hazy red tint, and the last thing he saw was Sweets crouched down next Spot, and Chance coming towards him as his world faded frome red to black.
Chance and Sweets were only a block away from where he'd found Skittery the night before when a scream pierced through the silent night. The older boys exchanged an uneasy look, and Chance took off at a sprint, with Sweets quick at his heels. His fears were confirmed as he raced up the steps, and there was no doubt where the screams were coming from.
He shoved his way in the tiny apartment, following the sound to a bedroom located in the back. He stopped suddenly, horror at the sight before him washing over him. Sweets slammed into the back of him, snapping him out of it.
He motioned towards Spot in the corner, and Sweets followed the silent command, as Chance inched his way toward Skittery. The young boy had stopped, and now had a blank look covering his blood stained face. Skittery's gaze slowly rose, and brown eyes met blue, and Chance's heart broke as the look decorating the boys face changed from blank to utter confusion. His eyes rolled in the back of his head, and Chance rushed forward to grab him. Before he could get there, he felt a blow to his back that knocked him on his knees. The wind rushed out of him, causing him to go lightheaded for a moment, before he gathered his senses, and was back on his feet, spinning around to confront the short lady standing behind him with a piece of wood.
He stalked forward, cornering her against the wall, and leaned down so his face was a centimeter from hers. "Hit me again, and you's gonna be joinin' you's husband, got it?" He told her through clenched teeth. She nodded meekly, and Chance threw a glare to the taller woman on the other hide of the room. "Dat means you's too!" Turning back around, he ripped the board out of the other woman's hand, and threw it with all his force against the wall across from him to prove his point.
Chance leveled her with one last look, before he turned back to his original concern, and bent over scooping up the small boy who lay unconscious on the ground. He picked up the knife from where it had fallen and with a grimace, wiped the blood off on the bed sheet, before pocketing it. He nodded at Sweets to get Spot, and turned back to the women cowered in the corner of the room. "We's weren't 'ere, an' neither was dey. If I find out you's said odderwise, me an' him'll be back, along wid some of our friends," He threatened. "Dat's a promise."
Chance cradled Skittery against his chest, as Sweets picked up Spot, who was too horrified to fight him, and they left the house, leaving the dead fathers, and the terrified mothers behind.
When they got back to the lodging house, Chance kicked at the door until it swung open, to reveal Spades. "Calm you' self, I's comin-shit! What happened?" Spades mouth fell open, and his cigar fell to the floor, as he scrambled to pick it up and grind out the fiery ash left on the carpet.
Chance ignored him shoving past him and yelling out for Lawrence as he and Sweets took the boys up to his room. He gently laid Skittery on the bed, brushing the hair out of his eyes, and without turning around told Sweets to wet a rag and bring it in. Sweets set Spot on the bed, but he immediately jumped off, going back to the corner of the room, and hugging his knees to his chest.
Lawrence burst in the room, shooting a worried look at Spot huddled in the corner, before joining Chance and Skittery at the bed. "What happened? Do I's wanna know?"
"He did it. He actually fuckin' did it," Chance muttered, still reeling a little bit.
"Did what?" Lawrence pressed, on as he examined the boy closer. "Chance, you's wanna explain ta me why he's covered in blood, an' yet I's can't find a scratch on 'im?" Lawrence wasn't positive he really wanted that question answered, since he thought he knew the answer and it was not one he wanted to hear.
Chance glanced up at Lawrence, and shifted his eyes behind him, holding a hand out into which Sweets dropped the wet rag. He ignored Lawrence's question again, and began wiping at Skittery's face. The previously white rag took on a pinkish hue, as he mopped the blood off Skittery's face, causing the young boy to stir, and blink his eyes open.
Skittery blinked against the bright light, as his vision slowly came into focus and he saw the faces of Chance, Lawrence, and Sweets hovering above. Discombobulated, he tried to figure out where he was and what had happened. The events came rushing back to him, and he sat up in a panic.
"Where's Spot?" He demanded, struggling to get out of bed, as Chance and Lawrence pushed him back down.
"He's right dere, see?" Sweets pointed, in a vain attempt to placate him.
Skittery fought against Lawrence and Chance, growing frustrated when they wouldn't let him up to check on Spot. "Get offa me!" He hollered at them, trying to pry their hands from him uselessly.
"Hey! Calm down!" Chance thundered, raising his voice at the young boy for the first time. It didn't have the desired effect. Instead of heeding his warning, Skittery started clawing manically, kicking, screaming, and biting trying to break free of their grasp.
"Let me go! Get offa me!"
In the end it took all three of them to hold him down, until he finally exhausted himself, laying back on the bed, and curling into his self, ignoring them.
"Sweets, why don't you's go get some a dat whiskey I know you's boys 'ave hidden in da cupboard, Chance, see about getting 'im bathed and in clean clothes," Lawrence took over the situation, going over to check on Spot while the other two followed his directions without hesitation.
Chance scooped Skittery back up, who hung limply in his arms, the fight drained from him, as he let Chance cart him off to the washroom.
Lawrence sat on his haunches in front of Spot. "You's okay dere, little man?"
Spot got the all too familiar defiant look on his face, and he nodded resolutely. "'I's jus' fine," He muttered, refusing even at such a young age to show weakness in front of others.
"All right, sorry. Wasn't tryin' ta offend no one. Wanna help me change dese sheets, so you's two can go ta sleep? It's getting' late," Lawrence tried to distract Spot, who reluctantly stood up to help. They pulled the sheets with streaks of blood off, and replaced them with clean ones, finishing just as Chance came back in.
He laid Skittery on the bed once again, and Spot climbed in next to him. Chance and Lawrence pretended not to notice the way Spot sat as far away from Skittery as possible, as Sweets handed over the bottle of whiskey he'd scoured from the kitchen, along with a water stained glass.
Lawrence poured a small amount in the glass, and handed it to Skittery. "Drink," He told him.
With shaking hands Skittery took the glass, sipping at it experimentally, and gagging on the first sip. But much like his younger cousin he refused to look weak, and after a brief coughing fit he swallowed the whole glass, silently handing it back, and trying his best to wipe the sickened look off his face.
"Now sleep," Lawrence ordered, motioning for Chance and Sweets to follow him. Chance turned off the gas lamp on the bedside table, and shut the door quietly behind him. He pilfered the bottle out of Lawrence's hands as they trooped down the stairs, taking his own long swallow, and passing it to Sweets who copied.
"So what was da point of makin' a ten year old drink?" Chance couldn't help but ask, as he took the bottle back from Sweets.
Lawrence smirked at him, shaking his head. "It'll help 'im sleep, an' calm his nerves," He explained. "Now I want some answers. Tell me dat boy didn't do what I t'ink he did," Lawrence came to a halt at the bottom of the stairs, his eyes drilling into Chances'.
Sweets snuck off into the common room, leaving Chance to deal with it on his own.
"I tried ta find 'im before he did anythin', I swear. An' I only took me eyes off 'im for a second!" Chance defended himself, not used to being on this side of things.
Lawrence held up his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, I ain't blamin' you's, all right? I jus' wanna know how much trouble dat boy is in."
"I don't t'ink any," Chance quickly recounted the night for him, shifting nervously when Lawrence was quiet for a long time.
"I guess dere ain't noin' ta do but cross our fingers an' hope for da best," Lawrence sighed, yanking off his bowler cap and scratching at his head. "All right, get everyone ta go ta bed. An' keep a close eye on dat kid for a coupla weeks, dis could turn ugly."
"How so? Like problems wid da bulls," Chance trailed off, as he lit up a cigarette, and took another long drink.
"Well, yeah dere's dat. But I was t'inkin' more along da lines a dis could really mess dat kid up. I don't t'ink he really t'ought it out much 'fore he acted, y'know?"
Chance gave a slow concurrent nod, and wandered towards the common room to round everyone up, lost deep in his own thoughts, the worry already eating away at him.