Of Broken Things

Prologue

 Philadelphia

10:30 PM, July 1st 1869 

It was an unseasonal beginning of the summer season. Rain had come and overstayed its welcome, quarantining the city's residents and creating a picture of a nearly flooded ghost town.

"Stop! Stop... I... can't..." the voice of a young woman bounces off the brick, her hurried feet echoing with the splashing of the mud trodden alleyways, breaking up the quietude.

"Darlin'... quit your bitching. We ain't got no choice." The gruff drawl of a man cuts her off. They reach the end of the alleyway; he sets down the woven basket he was carrying, turning around catching her shoulders in his hands as he towers over the young woman. His one hand comes down to pull at the bundle of blankets cradled in her arms, revealing a sleeping infant.

"Suggest you quit that ratbag act. You'll wake her." The woman strokes the cheek of the baby before covering the child's face, hiding it from the rain. "Ain't been but three days." her hushed voice tells. She fights the tears stinging her eyes. Fighting to break through the façade she so fiercely is holding together.

"Uh huh, three days or not, those goddamn nuns were 'bout to turn us in had they got a clue. Our faces are up all over this city and that ain't no life for a little thing like this."

"I know... I know... I... I just don't know if this... any of this is right." The woman is practically sobbing. Fighting tooth and nail to stay hushed in fear of alerting someone of their presence.

"Don't matter. This is the only way. Give the thing a proper life, away from this.. Shit." His arms wave outwards. Subconsciously pointing to the decay of the city, a metaphor of what they were running from.

"Now, darlin'... I'm damn positive the orphanage is just around this corner, you got her stuff, the note?"

She sniffles, nodding, trying to gather in these last moments. She knew it was right, but it felt so wrong. Something she never wanted, a child... the responsibility, everything. She would give everything and anything for that life at this point. Anything far from the day in and out of running from the law. Their faces on the posters scattered throughout the towns and cities. The least she could do was give her tiny baby girl the life she so badly wanted.

Grabbing the basket off the ground, she stomps past the man, peeking around the corner to make sure they were in the free and clear of prying eyes.

"You comin' or not?" She beckons to the man, not even stealing a glance in his direction for a double take 'stupid bastard' she whispers under her breath after hearing his grunt of recognition.

There are lights on in the three-story building, evident someone is there, but it's locked up for the night, the perfect timing to leave the little bundle to her new life.

"I'm so sorry little one. We love you... want the world for you." She whispers, as she strokes the small face of the infant. These final moments, standing outside the building, were bittersweet and heart wrenching.

"You ready darlin?" Can't linger too long." The man whispers. He leans in, planting a small kiss on the baby's forehead.

She sets the basket down near the door to the orphanage and gently sets the sleeping bundle in the basket, possibly risking everything if she were to wake. Placing the handwritten note on the child's chest, she covers the basket with her shawl, which would now belong to the little one, a reminder of a mysterious maternal figure. The man roughly raps on the wooden door, causing it to shake violently. Grabbing onto her wrist, they race away into the night. Left on the rain burdened sidewalk is a trampled bounty poster.