Beneath The Brooklyn Bridge

The Lodging House

(TW: implied child abuse)

The house Spot brought me into was large and had many boys and girls anywhere from 8 to 18. He pulled me over to a bed and helped me sit down. "So kid what's in da bag?" He asked pointing to the bag.

"Just a few pairs of trousers, a couple shirts, some scissors, and about five dollars." I answered.

"Mhm, ya got a decent bit in ya pockets, ya lookin' for work?" He asked while rummaging through a drawer.

"Yeah that's what I was looking for when that River kid kicked the hell out of me." I replied seeing him find what he was looking for as he pulled it out and closed the drawer.

"I'mma help wrap you up kid, it'll help your ribs. Is that ok?" He relayed the question calmly and seemed to care. My chest was still rather flat so I didn't really mind it all that much.

"Sure" I replied as I shakily pulled my arms from around my torso and began unbuttoning my shirt.

"It'll hurt a bit kid, but tell me if it feels too tight." He began to wrap my ribs gently as I helped situate the wrap and winced. "So did all dis come from River?" He asked taking notice of the bruises and scars on my body. "I understand if ya ain't wantin' to talk about it, a few friends is runaways here. There's no shame in ya upbringing." Spot spoke softly in a way that was quite comforting to me, I could feel a few tears escape my eyes. "Hey, Hey, Tate it'll be ok." He hugged me gently, his arms feeling strong but comforting. "I know it's hard, it's hard on the best of us kid. We is all family here." He let go of me as I resituated myself, drying my eyes and finishing buttoning my shirt.

"Thanks." I murmured softly.

"It ain't a problem kid, now how's about we talk about your work situation?" He smiled at me, I only now got a good look at him. His skin was a bit tanned with some grime on his face, his shirt was dark with a brown vest layered over top, his hair was dark and unkept, and his blue eyes were like the water of the harbor except they contained a feeling of mischief.

"Yeah" I replied, quite eager to find something.

"So me and the others here, we sell papes. We walk around sellin da newspapers to people around here. It's 50¢ per hundred, and we sell em 2 for a penny. If ya know how ta do it ya can make an honest earnin'. How old are ya?" He was nice and calm.

"13" I replied, "I turned 13 a week ago!" Spot nodded at my reply.

"Nice enthusiasm kid but say you're 11 Younger the kid, the better ya sell, got it?" I nodded understanding the advice. Suddenly he tossed a hat in my direction, I caught it and examined it realizing that it was very similar to his. "Welcome to the family kid, you're one of Spot's boys now."