From Crutchie To Wheels (And a Little Les Trouble)

Specs in the Refuge

Specs's POV

I woke up in an old musty room. It smelled of blood, sweat, and tears. There were about 10 other kids in this room, but only 4 bunk beds. I was on a bottom bunk by myself.

I look around and it's unmistakable where I am, even though I can't see it clearly. The refuge.

"Hey Brit he's up!" A young boy, maybe 13, yelled. An older boy who looked 17 walked up.

"Nice to see you're up. Welcome to the refuge. You've been out for just a half a day," the boy called Brit said in a charming British accent.

"Really?" I asked.

"Yeah, have you tried moving around yet?"

"No."

"Well, go ahead. Try to stand up."

Just sitting up was immensely painful. Then I stood for a second before I lost my balance. I smack the floor with a thud. Everything hurts.

"Woah, kid! You alright?"

"As good as I'll ever be."

"Whats your name?" He asked me.

"Specs."

He looked at me confused.

"See, I normally have glasses, but when I was visiting my friend in the hospital, they broke. By the way, I'm kinda nearly blind without them, so spare me some."

"Alright. I'm Brit. Guess I don't need to explain why really."

"Can you tell me what I look like?" I ask. "I mean, how bad am I beaten?"

"Well, your left eye is black and swollen, you have tons of bruises all over your arms and collar bone, and I think your nose may be broken. When you first came in, they threw you in and kicked your face. Just a heads up, the soreness won't go away until you get out of here. We get beatings every Tuesday and Friday, and extra ones when you step outta line or they get bored."

"Oh, joy," I say rolling my eyes.

"Ok, now that you're awake, you'll be sharing a bed with Timmy."

A small child, maybe 7 or 8 hopped over and sat down next to me. He looked very nervous and scared.

"Hi. I'm Timmy."

He was so scared.

"I'm Specs. What'd you do to get in here?"

"One night I ran into some Brooklyn newsies while trying to find food and one pulled out a gun. He shot me right in the shin and I was out on the street, bleeding to death, until Snyder found me. He told me he would get my leg fixed and I would be good as new. Well after the doctors amputated my leg, I was given a fake one so I could still walk. Once I could walk again, Snyder wanted me to pay him back for all he'd done for me. Of course, I couldn't pay him back, so he dragged me here and stole my leg."

"Oh that's awful. How old were you?"

"This was a year ago so I was 7 and 3 quarters."

Specs stared at Timmy in silence for a long time.

"Can I tell you a secret?" Timmy asked me.

"Sure, kid."

"My name isn't actually Timmy. It's Andy, but when I got here, people called me Tiny Tim so much the name stuck. But I changed it around a bit."

"Can I tell you a secret?" I asked.

"Yeah?"

"My name isn't actually Specs. People only call me that because I wear glasses. Except for right now. They broke when I was visiting my friend in the hospital."

"Why was he in the hospital?"

"Well, his name is Crutchie. And as the name suggests, he's a crip. Got polio when he was born. So, the mean Delancey brothers who work here like to make fun of him because he can't run away as well as the rest of us. He can't really run at all. Well, Crutchie was late coming home one day, so we all got real scared. A crip out after dark is not good. We's about to go looking for him when we hear him scream. We ran to find him and found him passed out, laying on the ground with a broken arm and broken crutch. So we carry him back, fix his arm. But now he can't use his arm to crutch with, so we got him a wheelchair. Well, he's selling papes with Davey and Davey's little brother Les. Davey came home later that day without them, so we assumed they were with Jack. And Jack came home without them, so we know something's up. No one saw either of them for 2 days. Then one day, Race, my other friend, comes running in saying he found them. So we run to them and find them all beat up and handcuffed in an alley. We took them to the hospital quick, but they weren't getting better. So we went to visit, which is where my glasses broke."

By now, everyone in the room was listening.

"You wanna know how I know it was the Delanceys who broke his arm? My friend Davey went back for his crutch after we carried him off. He comes back with the crutch and something shiny. Brass knuckles. He didn't tell anyone but me."

"Wow." Said Timmy.

Just then, Snyder burst in the room with a whip.

"Who stole my crackers?!" He screamed.

He walked up to one of the older boys, about 14.

"It was you, wasn't it? Shirt off! Now!"

The boy did as he was told, revealing deep purple scars on his back. I think he's been here a while.

Snyder relentlessly whipped the boy for everyone to see. Blood splashed on everything nearby. Screams from other boys filled my ears, but none from him.

He stopped at 16 lashes.

The boy lay limp on the ground. Snyder left.

"Are you alive, Mute?" Brit asked the boy after Snyder slammed the door closed.

The boy was either dead or passed out. The other stronger boys dragged him to a bunk and laid him down.

"I swear if he hurts Mute again I'll kill him!" Screamed one of the larger boys who had just dragged off Mute to a bed.

Then Oscar barged in the room, eating crackers. "Lights out, Scum!"

I laid in bed with Timmy curled up close to me. "Why did that boy get whipped if Oscar stole the crackers?"

I turned over and fell asleep.

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