All Too Well

♚ Chapter Nine ♚

An old man hunched over as Freckles and I made off with his suitcase. A women, who I assumed to be his daughter, ran over and placed a comforting hand on his back and chest, where I threw a rock at. She glared at us. "You two mischievous thieves come back here and give my father back his bag and apologize to him!" She yelled.

We turned around. I pulled down my left eye and stuck my tongue out at her in a taunting and mocking way. Freckles giggled as she playfully stuck a tongue out at her. The women fumed. "I'm going to turn you into the police!" She shouted as we ran off. "You, and all of the filthy people who live in the slums with you two!"

Freckles and I ran straight into a dark alley and hid in there. While we did so, we emptied the bag of its contents. "Cripes," I sighed. "It doesn't look like the grandpa had much."

"What's this?" Freckles asked, holding up a large green glass bottle with dark liquid inside. "Is this a painkiller medicine?"

"Let me see," I said. I took the bottle from her hands and looked at it. "If only I could read," I sighed. "Then I know what's in it."

"If we uncap it and smell it, maybe we can tell what it is." Freckles offered a solution.

"Good thinking," I nodded a her. I pulled the cork out of the bottle and took a whiff. A familiar scent filled my nostrils and a memory of seeing snoring, salivating adults all over the floor flashed through me.

I gritted my teeth and threw the bottle at the brick wall. It shattered on contact and the blood-red liquid inside stained the wall and dripped onto the floor. "Aw, Violet, why did you do that?" Freckles asked, exasperated at my sudden action.

"I know what that liquid was," I growled, clenching my my hand fist. "It's a fancy drink that those nobles enjoy. I think they call it 'wine' or something. I know it has other names, but I don't know them. At the old orphanage I used to live at, the adults used all the money we stole on that instead of things for us. It made them act funny if they drank too much. Sometimes, kids got hurt because of it."

"That's awful!" Freckles gasped.

"I know," I agreed with her. "Besides, it's not something I want us to drink."

We continued rummaging through his stuff before I noticed a red mark on Freckles forehead. I pulled up her bangs to see a bruise on her forehead. "What. Happened." I demanded, rage coursing through my veins.

"Oh, the baker stoned me," she explained. "But I'm alright. At least he only threw one rock at me instead of multiple like he usually does."

"Did you do anything to provoke him?"

"Nope. I was passing by and he stones me, calling me 'filthy'."

"Well, that isn't okay!" I yelled, standing up. I clenched my hand into a fist.

"Violet, calm down," Freckles sighed. "I'm okay."

"But you didn't do anything wrong and he still hurt you! Stupid people...they think they can treat us like dirt because we're living in the slums!"

I lifted one leg in the air and spread my arms out like I bird as I spun on the ball of my feet in frustration. Freckles' head perked up. "We'll show them," she grinned.

"Show them what?" I asked.

"One day, I bet we'll become famous at something! Everyone in England will know our names and we can laugh at the people here who treated us like dirt as they kiss our feet in mercy. We'll show them one day!"

I smiled and held up two fingers on each hand, spreading them out as far as I could. I placed them over my eyes and Freckles did the same. "That's right," I smiled. "We'll show them. We'll make them sorry that they threw rocks at us!"