#first posts

     Jack smiled when he saw that his best friend was already curled up asleep. His leg had been bothering him more that usual that day, and the rain that had been pouring off and on throughout the afternoon had not helped him at all. Rain always made Crutchie’s leg act up. Jack grabbed his blanket and managed to get it under Crutchie’s head with him only stirring slightly before walking over to the corner where he hid his drawings. He knew Crutchie would scold him in the morning for giving up his blanket, but Jack always insisted he slept better outside without it, which was mostly true. 

      Drawing always helped him calm down after a hard day, or just gave him time to process everything that went on around him. He could revisit what happened that day and work through who needed help finding a new selling spot, who looked like they hadn’t been eating enough, and who the Delancys seemed to be targeting more than the others far easier when he had something else to channel his own emotions into. If he worked through as much of that as he could the night before, he wasn’t so worried about it while he slept and it sometimes helped keep the constant nightmares at bay. 

     Jack picked up his pencil and set to work on a drawing of Medda during one of her performances the other night that he had started working on as soon as he’d gotten home from watching it. The lighting had recently gotten upgraded, and it was a good way for him to practice shading, plus the intricate details on Medda’s costumes were always fun to draw. He just had to finish up the shading on Medda’s hat and touch up the bowery beauties standing off to the side. He was pretty sure they didn’t realize that they could be seen from the audience because one of them had stolen a short kiss before rushing back stage to get into place for their next song. 

     Jack’s eyes drooped as he finished the first drawing and started on another, this time one of the refuge. With his nightmares getting worse the past few nights, he was hoping to get all of the terror our before he went to sleep. He put all of his focus into drawing the broken beds and rats scuttling around, trying so hard not to remember the faces of the boys who tried to sleep three to a bed. Some of them looked terrified constantly, jumping at every sound that could possibly be one of the guards, Snyder, or even one of the older boys trying to take their bed. Some of the faces were screwed up in pain, trying to keep the tears back. But the worst were the ones who’s faces were completely blank, who had heard the lies that the Spider told them every day so much that they had started to believe that they really were useless, worthless, and weren’t deserving of love. Those were the ones that were found under the windows by the police later. 

     The hardest things to block out were the sounds. Kids sniffling in the corner with their backs turned pretending not to cry, an occasional moan or gasp of pain when someone tried to move, and heaven forbid the terrified cries when the Spider came and took someone for “questioning and correction” and the screams that were sure to follow. Jack found himself back in that dark bunk room again, nothing like the one his brothers were sleeping in downstairs. He could hear the screams from down the hall, could smell the blood and sweat of the young boys around him who had really done nothing wrong. Suddenly Snider’s shadowy face was sneering above him, telling him to give up and that no one would want him back, laughing whenever Jack could’t hold back his cries. He was desperate to leave, to run away somewhere no one would ever find him, have someone hold him and tell him everything was okay, even if he knew it wasn’t. Snyder started shaking his shoulder, yelling something at him that Jack couldn’t hear over his own screams. He kept shaking him harder, yelling and hitting his arm, until Jack bolted upright from the ground and dove into Crutchie’s arms. 

     Jack tried to get his sobbing under control while Crutchie gently shushed him and rubbed his back as he held him tightly. He knew Crutchie would be the last person to judge him, and he always felt safest trusting him, but he still hated feeling so weak. He finally started calming down when he felt his brother humming the same song he had sung so many times when one of the boys came to him with nightmares. It was quiet and sweet and hopeful, reminding him of somewhere he had never gone before but still seemed so very safe. Jack started to sing along softly as they both lied back down, Jack still securely in Crutchie’s arms as he fell asleep again for the rest of the night.

     “Soon your friends are more like family, and they’s begging you to stay. Ain’t that neat, living sweet, in Santa Fe...”