My Ray of Sunshine

Chapter 12

Some blood.

"Because I lived it."

Albert's eyes were pleading and sad. Not once had I seen him look at me the way he was now. I scanned Race's features, not receiving anything from him to counter the ginger's remark. The intensity and sadness in Albert's gaze was too much. I looked back at the man in front of me. My finger found its way to the trigger, pulling back a little bit, but not enough for it to shoot.

"Raya, please," Race started in too.

I looked back at the boys, teary-eyed. And that's when it happened. Something connected with the back of my knee. The Newsies screamed as my legs buckled and the gun fired.

Nothing hit me, so I assumed I didn't shoot myself by accident. However, my face did collide with the pavement. My hands and clothes began to become wet. I looked up, a red liquid soaking me. I shrieked, thinking it was coming from me.

"Ray!" Albert was the first to my aid, a terrified look rippling across his face. Race was next, wearing the same expression. "Are you hurt?"

"I-I don't know," I stammered, pressing my hands to my head after pulling my knees to my chest.

"You need to relax," the ginger's attempt at keeping his voice calm was making it worse. And to top it off, looking at him hurt.

Racetrack crouched behind me, leaning me against him as his friend pulled my legs down and moved his hands around my body to check for a possible bullet wound (not in an invasive way). Something didn't make sense, I was covered in a lot of blood, so why wasn't I light-headed or passed out?

"Oh my-" Race's hand clamped down over his mouth, a horror-struck look playing on his face now. The ginger boy and I both followed the blond's gaze, eyes falling on a bleeding man.

Blood was spurting out of his neck where a rather large hole made itself present. I shrieked; blood began to pound in my ears and my head felt like it was being pounded with a hammer. (A/N: this next bit I will do my best to explain, but I suck at describing people ugly crying, which is what Ray is about to do.)

"Is he...?" I started, feeling the corners of my lips turn down as a loud sob escaped through them and tears well up in my eyes.

Race checked his pulse, having watched Specs in medicine since Race joined the Newsies. The blond boy looked to me, who was propped up on my own hands and watching anxiously. "He is," the boy said solemnly.

"I'm sorry!" I shrieked, the water built up flooding out of my eyes and down my cheeks. A series of loud sobs became audible as my entire body shook. Albert slid closer, not caring about the blood soaking into his pants; he pulled me into his chest; I welcomed it.

"Shhh," he stroked my hair as I cried into his shirt. I think he was trying to calm himself as well. Race was silent; New York was silent; we were rocking gently, our nerves calming down. As much as I wanted to go back to the Newsies...to Albert, I couldn't.

"I need to go," I said after a while, pulling out of the ginger's grasp.

"No you don't," he whispered.

"I do, Albert," I sighed and stood up, legs wobbly. "The police are going to find the body and I don't want you or Race to be arrested for my actions."

"It was an accident, Ray," Race tried, receiving a stern look from me.

"Okay," Albert sighed, looking at the concrete. It was that word. The word that hurt me so much last night. I was expecting...no, hoping for him to try to get me to stay, but he didn't. I shook my head, clearing my thought process and heading down the street; I then took an alley down to Medda's.

"Medda, I need a place ta stay," I breathed.

"Thought you were with the Newsies?" She asked, turning to face me, purple dress fanning out.

"I was."

"I have a spare room. Come with me quickly, I'm about to go on," she ushered me into a small room. It had white walls, and grey bed with lavender sheets, a couple books, a desk, and a lamp all tucked into the small space. There was a closet on the far-left corner of the room where dresses were carelessly placed inside. "I didn't get the chance to clean it..."

"It's fine. I'll do it since I have nothing else to do."

"Really?" I nodded, "thank you, child!"

"Ladies and gentlemen..."

"Oh crap! I have ta go!" She left quickly, leaving me with my thoughts and a dirty room. I started with the closet, hanging the dresses on the hangers and placing them inside neatly, arranging them by color. I then picked up the clothing that lay across the floor. After cleaning up the rest of the room, I set myself to organizing the desk. I needed some way to keep my mind off of the events of the past two days (including today).

I organized based on item: papers in one stack, books in another with pens in an old shoe box below. It wasn't until the very end when I found a worn picture frame. Miss Medda was holding a newborn baby girl in a hospital bed. Another one lay under another pile of papers, the protective glass shattered, but it didn't look at all worn down. I shrugged, placing them in a drawer in the desk along with the stack of papers. I shoved the books and pens under the bed and left the room, making my way to one of the wings (basically stage left or stage right in a theatre that's off stage.)