The Greatest Showman: March One-Shots

4. Newspaper

"Phillip, come look at this," Anne says, trying to keep her voice steady as her hands shake, grasping onto the newspaper. She squeezes her eyes shut for a moment, trying to calm herself, the words she just read imprinted on the insides of her eyelids.

A small scream escapes her parted lips.

"Anne, what's the matter?" Phillip says worriedly, rushing into the room. He grabs ahold of the newspaper, and Anne watches with tear-filled eyes as he reads it over. His face changes from curious to angry to bewildered, and then back to angry. Anne doesn't even think he's finished reading the whole article when, to her surprise, he momentarily crumples it up into a tight ball, and throws it at the wall.

Anne stands up, shaking, unable to find anything to say. Phillip envelops her in his arms, quietly soothing her.

"It's okay," he whispers, then squeezes his eyes shut and clenches his jaw. Why must his parents be so quick to judge? Why must they be so caught-up in their own money that they seek to bring others down? They mess things up for everyone else, and then think their money is going to save them from their destruction and downfall.

Which, unfortunately, is the cold, hard truth.

"No, but it's not okay," Anne cries, and Phillip's heart breaks as her voice does. She pulls away, her face wet with tears. "They threatened me, Phillip. They threatened my brother!"

"I know," Phillip says sadly, reaching up to tuck some strands of hair behind Anne's ear. "And there's nothing I can do to stop them, they won't listen to me. But they're not gonna hurt you—or W.D. I promise."

Anne's bottom lip trembles as she holds her arms close to her chest. "B-b-but that was the newspaper, Phillip. They're gonna... It's on every one in the city!"

"I know," Phillip says again, this time nodding. "I know." He pulls Anne close to him once more, running one hand up and down her back, the other pressed firmly against the back of her head. "They think they have all the power in the world, but they don't, Anne. And they never will. They're too small-minded."

Anne sniffles, desperately trying to catch her breath.

After a moment, Phillip whispers, ever so quietly, "Their opinions don't matter."

Anne immediately pulls back. "Yes, they do! You don't know what it's like walking in my shoes. You don't know what life has been like for W.D. and I. The circus? The circus saved us, Phillip. Gave us an image that isn't full of prejudice and racial slurs. And we're trying to pretend we don't hear any of that, because it's certainly there, but it's..." She hiccups. When she speaks again, her voice is thick with tears. "It's just so hard."

She falls back into Phillip's arms without him having to say anything. They just stand there, crying, and Phillip searches for the right words to say to try and comfort Anne. But he knows she's right—he doesn't know what it's like to live on the margins of society, when your next meal is unknown.

Anne pulls away again, and she haphazardly wipes at her cheeks. "I have to go call W.D.," she says softly, her voice still cracking with tears. She hurries away.

Phillip, full of rage, walks over to the crumpled-up newspaper sitting in the corner of the room. He grabs it, his fingers wrapped around it as tightly as possible, and he goes into the kitchen. Turns the sink up to the hottest temperature. Puts the newspaper underneath it. Watches it dissolve.

Like it never even existed in the first place.