Letters From the Refuge (A Newsies Fanfic)

Chapter 3

I was pushed into the Refuge. The old building smelled like mold, and stale bread. I was shoved up what felt like one thousand flights of stairs. When I was finally at the top, I was led into a dark, ominous hallway lined with tall wooden doors. I was then greeted by the boys from the Distribution Window, the Delancey Brothers.

"Well hello there," Oscar snickered, "Hey Morris, ain't this the newsie from dis mornin'?"

"I believe it is Osca'," Morris responded.

"Why don' we show our guest 'ere how we welcome newsies," Oscar suggested. As soon as he finished his sentence, I felt the impact of his fist and a pair of brass knuckles connect with my face. I fell to the ground, raising a trembling hand to my face. I felt the gash, trying to clot it with my hand. Morris threw me back onto my feet. 

"Now,"Oscar shouted, " There is certainly more where that came from if you EVER step out of line!" He then opened a door and threw me onto the cold, hard wood floor. 

"Boys meet your new cell mate," Morris said gruffly to the other boys. There must have been at least twenty kids in the room with only twelve beds. 

"Find a bed, we'll be back for evenin' check-in," Oscar spat. 

I looked around the room at the boys surrounding me. My hat lay a foot away, my braid cascading down my shoulder. One of the boys stepped forward and helped me up. 

"Hello, my name's Click," he said with a click of his tongue, then spitting on and extending his hand. 

"Ink," I say returning the gesture and shaking his spit covered hand. I grab my hat of the floor and place it back on my head with my braid safely inside. 

"Say, why's youse called Ink?" Click asks as the other boys return to their beds. 

"When I was taken in by some of the 'Hattan newsies, I had ink smudged on my face from sleepin' on old papes,"I answered, "Why do they call you Click?" 

"Well, it's a habit of mine. You see I likes ta do this a lot," Click says clicking his tongue a few times. 

"Say," a newsie said walking over and examining me, "Ise never seen you wit the 'Hattan newsies." He was about as skinny as a pole, and tall as one too. He was so skinny, and probably underfed, that you could see his bones. 

"I'm new. Got dragged here today, my first day of selling," I explained. 

"The name's Bones," he said sticking out a hand, but not before spitting on it. I did the same and shook it. 

"I'm Ink," I responded. 

"Fellas, we's should start gettin to bed," I heard one of the kids warn, "The Delancey's 'll be here any I minute". Click must have seen me looking a little lost and made some room for me in his bed. There were at least three boys in these so called "beds". They were more like wooden boards. My newspapers were softer than this. Now I understand why they call this place, "living Hell".

AN- Thank You sooo much to TFansie  for voting! I really appreciate it! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter as much as I did writing it!🗞🗞🗞