Bound To Rain

The Beginning

*takes place a year after the strike

"Harriet." I whispered to my sister, who was now eighteen. "Someone's here."
Harriet stiffened up, immediately knowing who it was. "You need to hide."
"What? No!" I retorted, taken aback. "Who is it?
"It's Mr. Kailem!" She glanced around the alleyway we were hiding in. "He's here to take me away!"
"Take you away?" I echoed, not believing it.
"If he sees you here, he'll take you too." Harriet told me frantically. "Hide!"
She lifted me up into a dumpster and closed it.
"Robinson!" A man's voice growled. It reminded me of the night my parents were killed. There was a bit of a scuffle, and Harriet let out a little cry. But besides that, she didn't put up a fight.
About an hour later, I lifted up the dumpster lid a bit and peeked out.
No Harriet.
No Kailem.
Not body.
I carefully climbed out of the dumpster, and eventually just fell out.
Ugh. My skirt is torn.
I must've had torn it on the way down. Now there's another break in the worn gray fabric. I glanced down at my blue shirt, which was missing a few buttons.
Harriet had a job before she was taken, so we had an almost steady flow of money. She left $8.20.

"I gotta do something." I muttered to myself. The sun will be setting soon. So, I left the alley. People were heading to their homes. Mostly fancy, rich people. There were some boys, news boys. One of them was hobbling around on a crutch until someone bumped into him.
"Outta the way, ya lousy crip!" I heard, then saw the person shove the lame boy. He fell, unable to get up without support. The person then began kicking him and throwing insults.
"Idiot! Newsie scum!" The person snarled. I ran up to the scene, determined to help the boy.
"Hey!" I shouted. "Leave 'im alone!"
I stood in front of the attacker. It was a tall, burly man.
"Ay, step aside, goily." He growled, shoving me away. I regained my balance.
"I ain't askin'" I moved back threateningly. He's much bigger than me.
"Neither am I." He tried shoving me again, but I punched him in the jaw. He rubbed it, then reared back to slap me. I ducked, then kicked him in the groin. Hard.
"Oof." He grunted, slapping me. "Street rat!"
Then he walked away. The crippled boy was still struggling to get up, blood trickling out if his nose.
"You alright?" I gave him my hand to help him up. He took it, and on the way up, grabbed his crutch. He then tucked it under his arm.
"Yeah, thank you." He wiped the blood from his nose and held out his other hand, not very far because of the crutch. "I's is Crutchie."

"Bailey Robinson." I shook it politely. I noticed his news bag. It didn't have anything in it.

"You got a place to stay?" He asked.
"Oh, uh... Yeah!" I lied.
"Well, okay." He nodded. "Nice meeting ya, Bailey."
"You too." He limped away, probably to his home. The sun was starting to set. I looked around, and my eyes landed on a theatre. I ran to the entrance, and peered inside. There was a woman in a dress admiring a painting. I slowly crept in. She noticed.
"Hey, you!" She called. "Shoo! No kids allowed in the theatre!"
"I- I'm sorry." I showed myself, conscious of my long, messy brown haired. "I don't have anywhere to go."
"Well..." She considered it. "Can ya clean?"
I nodded excitedly.
"Welcome aboard." She shook my hand firmly. "My name is Miss Medda Larkin."
"Bailey Robinson." I grinned.
"Let me show you to a room." Miss Medda led me to a big room far backstage. It had a bed, wardrobe, mirror, and other essentials.
"Thank you." I looked at her.
"No problem." She smiled at me warmly. "Now, how old did you say you were?"
"I's fifteen, ma'am." I informed her.
"Perfect." She nodded. "Well, I'll leave you to it."
Miss Medda left, closing the door behind her. I eventually found a hairbrush, and made myself look somewhat presentable, then I went to sleep.