Let's All Just Blindfold The Poor, We Must Remind Them What's In Store

Jack & Crutchie

After he woke up on that confusing day, Charlie was alone. But not completely. He heard his fathers straining voice come from the kitchen. The kitchen and small dining area were only separated from the bed by a half wall, and if he moved to the edge of the bed, and craned his neck far enough, he could see it almost completely. His father and mother were standing there, holding each other. His father whispered things into her ear, and sometimes he couldn't control his volume through a shaking voice, causing her to flinch slightly.
Charlie slowly stepped off of the bed and made his way into the small room that his parents stood in. It smelled sour. The shelves were empty and the food that his mother was cooking before they slept was sitting on the counter, burnt and mushy. The walls were peeled and the color had almost completely faded - much like his parents' faces.
Charlie tugged on his mothers skirt, hoping to get her attention. It worked, but almost too well, she jumped what felt like ten feet in the air, knocking her husband in the face with her shoulder.
"Oh god, sorry dear." she practically whispered, her hands lifting to check his face fro a bruise. She still hadn't acknowledged Charlie.
She held her husband's shoulders for a minute to steady herself, and then moved away from the boys and into one of the uncomfortable wooden chairs that they were lucky enough to possess. She still hadn't acknowledged Charlie.
The boy walked up to her. He tugged on her dress again. She looked down at him, she'd been crying but Charlie wouldn't know it. After all, he was only four at the time. But oh if he knew that all this was over him... well, about him and her. Her child, the light of her life, was a monster. He was weak in the eyes of god, so her entire family was punished. And Charlie was dangerous, how could he not be? He must be able to control plants, or air currents, or wind or something. And she was mad at herself. Her boy hadn't changed a bit. He has shown no differences. He probably doesn't even know he has this evil magic, he doesn't know what they have to do to him. He doesn't know that she's been dying for years and maybe if she could have just been stronger, better, more worthy, then she could make it through this. If she knew that she would live long enough to help her dear husband deal with this situation, then she wouldn't do this. She would hold her son tightly. She would help him hide his 'talent', repress it even. But if she can barely stand, should she bother? No. Certainly not. Especially since she was the only one considering this. Yes, if it weren't for her, her husband would just go through with it without a second thought, so why prolong the inevitable when this could be her last year? Her last month or week? Exactly. If she loves her son she'll give him a real chance. If he can survive away from home, then maybe their family is worth something. This is the only humane way. She must go through with this. And even if Charlie doesn't make it, maybe that's the way it was destined to be. He was cursed after all, god must have had a reason. She could always give her husband another son. So at least he wouldn't be alone and scared at the end of all of this.
Another, more harsh tug to the hem of her dress. Charlie wanted attention. He wanted answers. She almost slapped the child, without thinking about it. Oh my god. She almost slapped her child. His was much too much for her, she couldn't to even act correctly.
"Dear? Can we please..." she managed to say, waving her hand.
He nodded and walked up next to Charlie. "Hey buddy? Mama's a little tired. You wanna go to the park?" he asked, trying to keep a cheery attitude as he scooped his son up into his arms.

Almost 6 years later, Crutchie still returns to that park. He goes by Crutchie now - in the time he was alone he contracted a disease called polio, causing one of his legs to become paralyzed. Though luckily, about three years ago, two angels came to save him. They gave him a crutch, along with a nickname, and a new family. One of the 'angles' was a boy, only a year older than him, named Jack. The other was his brother, Francis, who was about ten years older than them. He's probably in his 20's now, so they easily pass as a young family. Well, they don't really need to pass for it, they just. Are.
Even at ten years old, Crutchie doesn't understand why he was abandoned. Why he and his dad spent so much time together that day; getting ice cream, walking around town, playing together, only for Crutchie to end up sitting on the bench wondering where his dad went. Only for him to wander around the park, and eventually out of the park, searching for hours. And crying. Crying so hard that he couldn't breathe. Crying so hard, some kids a few years older than him got annoyed and decided to give him a black eye.
He had to learn how to steal, he had to re-learn how to walk, and how to interact with people all because.... Well. he didn't know. Was he just not good enough for them? Jack likes to joke and tell Crutchie that he was too good of them, but that clearly wasn't the case.
But regardless, whether he likes it or not, he has a new family. Well - of course he likes it, it's just confusing. And he's known Jack for three years, and still doesn't even know why he and his brother ran away.
But now he's ten. And he has nothing to show for it, except an empty bench that reminds him of the person he could have been if only he was good enough.
Sometimes, sitting there with Fran, he feels like he's sitting with his father. He doesnt ever think of his mother, and Jack certainly doesn't fit that role. Although Jack is caring, and treats him like a real person, and beats up people that call him names and does so much to help him, he's so much more like the best brother he could have ever asked for than a mother. But that's ok. Jack and Fran had a mother once too, but she died. And their father wasn't too great either. At least, that's what he pieced together from everything Fran had told him.
These boys have tried having parents, and it didn't work out on either end. But maybe, just maybe that was for the better.

"Hey crutch, whatcha think' about" Jack asked, pulling Crutchie out of his spiraling thoughts as he leaned over the back of the bench to be as close to Crutchie as possible.
"Heh, nothin'." He sighed out, pausing for a moment. He was always so open with Jack, and it wasn't like he was telling him earth-shattering news or anything. "Just ah.. Wondering about my folks."
Jack sighed, and walked around to the front side of the dirty wooden bench to sit next to Crutchie. Crutchies eyes were on the floor, he didn't want to look at Jack right now. They'd been through so much together, why couldn't Jack just... open up? Just once, then crutchie might not feel so alone.
"You know crutchie, they didnt do a damn thing for ya. There's no reason to be so caught up yeah?''
The blonde nodded. Jack would never understand. He only ran away, Crutchie was abandoned. "Will ya tell me about yours?" he asked, slowly moving his eyes to look over at the brunette.
Jack felt so old right now. Well, he felt like this most of the time. He remembered that fateful night when he asked Francis about Antonio from next door, about where he was dragged off to. He remembered wondering how that kid's parents could ever recover loosing a child. And he remembered that terrifying night, only the day after, when he saw his brother take a hit, when he saw power of which he never would have dreamt explode from his own body.
"Yeah. jus'.. Gimme a sec"
Since then, he'd been to the refuge twice. The first time, only about a month after they ran away from home, he went alone. He was sent there because someone saw him use his powers, nothing more than playing around with his electricity, and they dragged him straight to that awful building themself. Francis was scared half to death when his brother wasn't where he left him, and used brute force alone to get his brother out. The next time, only three days later, they were both taken.
On that visit, Jack met Antonio. He was a tall kid, almost as tall as Francis, and blonde. He had a few freckles on his face, but his most noticeable trait was how he was never seen without a cigar. And if he was, it was when the warnen was around, and he always looked like he was holding his breath - as if he could only breathe in smoke, like oxygen would kill him. He claimed that he was "in this stinkin place just cause theys was mad i gamble better than theys did!" Of course, Fran was skeptical, because the kid was only seven, the same age as Jack at that time - but he'd seen sadder.
During this one month stay before they were able to escape again, Jack had time to figure out what was wrong with him. All of the kids there had powers, except for Francis and Antonio, who were both caught helping some kids that had powers, which is apparently just as bad.
Or at least, they all supposedly had powers. Some were quite blunt about it, spraying water out of the palms of their hands, burping out flames, growing plants through the walls, whatever they could do they did, because anyone over the age of 6 knew that if you stay in the reefuge, your next stop is death row.
Jack's powers were apparently centered around weather. Antonio and some of the older kids helped him discover and control them. It was particularly easy when Fran told them about what Jack did to their father. Jack was devastated when he learned that Fran would just reveal their story like that, but all of the kids were supportive. They all thought it was super cool actually. After that, they tested out their powers as they told each other about their lives. It was a sweet bonding moment where they could just be kids, and it was something that they all needed desperately.
Jack wished he could have conversations like those with Crutchie. But this was different. Crutchie was just a kid, he had no idea about the struggles of dealing with powers, and he certainly had never been to the refuge.
But that's just what Jack thought. He could be so wrong. After all, Crutchie probably thinks the exact same thing about Jack. And it's Crutchie, the kid he's known for years, the kid he trusts with his life now, the kid that can be a kid with him.
It felt as if they'd been sitting in silence for a year. But it wasn't uncomfortable. Crutchie knew Jack was thinking, reviewing what he might say. And Jack knew that Crutchie was reminiscing, yet still taking in this moment.
"Do you know about the refuge?" Jack asked, finally knowing just what he wanted to say. Crutchie nodded. He'd heard plenty of stories. Every kid on the streets knows about the refuge, and knows what happens to you if you go there. What scared Crutchie the most was that he thought that he met those qualifications. He only used his powers once, as far as he was concerned. And it was just a simple manipulation of the wind. It took him awhile to realize but, one fall before he met jack, the leaves moved out of his way as he walked. This was right after he first learned about the refuge, and the realization hit him like a brick. It took him a while to come to terms with this, and he still hasn't told anyone, but it's always a fear in the back of his mind that he might hurt someone.
Jack noticed the worry resting on Crutchie's face, and hesitantly continued. "I've been there once. Me and Fran. "It was after i... i..." he took a deep breath. "I used my powers on my old man."
Crutchie gulped. He'd never met anyone else with powers before. But it's jack. It's not like he would hurt him. And now, he isn't alone. The blonde listened intently as Jack continued to tell him about his story. About how his mom died, about how awful his father was, and about his trips to the refuge. Everything up until he met Crutchie.
He was only planning on telling Crutchie about the refuge, but he couldn't help himself. He had to let everything fall out, he had to tell someone.
And Cruchie eased his concerns, telling Jack everything he remembered about the day he was left behind, about his internal struggles on why he was abandoned, and on his own talent.
Ever since then, there have been no secrets. The boys were closer than anyone that anybody could possibly imagine, and they planned on staying that way. Jack and Crutchie would go to Fran for all of their problems and questions, and he would happily answer them. He had never seen them this happy, so many weights had been taken off of their chests since they met and learned to trust each other. He'd never been so happy, so sober. He could form proper sentences, and he even learned to write from studying some papes that would make their way around.
The boys never had a solid sleeping place. Sometimes they would go days without eating or resting but, with each other by their sides, they kept it fun. Fran could distract them, they didn't have evil adults looming over them, and they could live freely.
Though of course, nothing like this lasts forever. As funny as Jack was, and as cheerful as Crutchie got, and as strong and supportive as Fran always would be, they couldn't ignore their hunger for forever.

Francis took a deep breath. These past few years have been a lot. He certainly couldn't have done it alone, and as much as he loved the boys, they were a handful. And feeding three people was much harder than feeding one.
Now that he thinks about it, this is the only alone time he's gotten in what feels like centuries. But there's always something to do. They needed food, they have for a couple of days now, but all of the local stores already knew all three of their thieving faces. So the only option was to cross the bridge into the other side of town. It was a small bridge, but it wasn't one for pedestrians. The train roared every night, and it had become a comfort for the boys. Almost like a lullaby.
This is the first time he'd left Crutchie and Jack alone, and it was admittedly terrifying. But they were 13 now, and definitely old enough to handle themselves. The walk was long, but bearable, it was much better than the walk to brooklyn.
Once he reached the bridge, he waited. It was only about one mile long, and he didn't hear any trains coming. But he continued to wait. And wait. Maybe the station was shut down today. The dew from the grass was soaking into his old broken shoes, and the wind stung his bare arms and cheeks. He inhaled deeply. If he sprinted, he could make it in 8 minutes. But there was a bend, the track twisted left, and then right, disappearing behind a wall of trees. He had to go now. He'd already left Crutchie and Jack for over an hour, and he was barley any closer to the other side of town. He exhaled. He had to go now.
The boy broke into a sprint, almost faster than his legs would take him. He sped and sped as fast as he could, making it around the bend in less than three minutes. There was no train in the distance. He was safe. Just a long, long stretch to solid ground.
Just as he thought he was about half way, he heard a crack. The deafening sound accompanied a sharp pain in his leg as he was halted to a stop. His food went right through one of the larger tracks, and the broken wood splintered into his leg.
"DAMMIT" he yelled as he tripped on the sudden halt, falling to pry his leg out. No no no! He could barely move. He was frozen by fear and the horrifyingly freezing air. He pressed on the wood with his hands, only to get more splinters than he could count. He tried lifting his leg, using all of the strength that he could, only to get scratched worse than he'd ever been. He was stuck, trapped, paralyzed. He couldn't move an inch. The temperature continued to drop as the sun fell alongside his heart. If he'd just taken it more carefully across the track, maybe this wouldn't have happened. Or maybe, this was inevitable. Everything seemed to be going so well in these last six years, but his family had never been this lucky. His mother was struck down with cancer, his dad with crippling alcoholism, his brother burdened with powers. And now he will be struck down by a train. By the freezing air. By his dry throat and his nonexistent, rumbling stomach. By the deafening sound of the horn as the train soared around the corner. Or the blinding headlights that illuminated his terrified and regretful face as he felt the grim reaper slam against his fragile, far too gone body.