silly little crutchie fic
Hi i wrote this a bit ago at like.. 2am with the intentions of it just being for me and my partners eyes only but it loves my writing and it wants me to share more of what i write to the world so this is my attempt. This is absolutely rubbish but uh,,, im proud of it. Also crutchies a female in this im sorry i couldn’t control myself.. I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS?? Also sorry each paragraph is so big i didn’t realise it till i finished.. also its 2k word exactly in total which makes it slightly better.. OKAY BYE
Truth be told, Crutchie lost track of time. It had been a week? maybe two? god, she didn't know. That's just what the refuge does to a person. She was weak; most likely coming down with a fever of sorts and most certainly did she have a bruised rib - every shaky, short breath she took ached and came out more like a wheeze. She knew it was some time during the day thanks to the small amount of natural light that escaped passed the barred window. The singular line spread across the floor like it was some line of hope - to Crutchie all it did was make sure she didn't go too insane. The rest of the room was mainly coated in darkness with a few candles having been lit by the other kids. The room was deathly silent if you ignore the empty coughs from the ill kids or a sniffle from a kid who just finished crying. She hated the silence. She felt fake. Unreal.
The silence was suffocating, really. It wasn't the type of silence that brought tranquility but it was more so the type which pressed in on eardrums, when the stillness around her presses in so thick it muffles her sense of self. In that void, it was easy to wonder if she was really here at all—or if she ever was, like the world was breathing without her. Silence has a way of peeling back the layers of reality, until even her own existence began to blur at the edges—until she wasn't sure if she were a person or just a thought echoing in an empty room. When everything grew quiet, unbearably quiet, it didn't feel peaceful; it felt like being erased in slow motion, like the world has forgotten to include her in its noise. She could hear the world moving on around her. It was early into her stay that she decided it was the quiet that truly hurt worse then the bruises she had been given. She only lowered her head further down and took less breathes of the air she simply borrowed, embracing the dark and that she was just part of the background noise; she was part of the background noise of forgotten and unwanted kids. She really prayed she would survive another 5 and a bit months but by the looks of it, - and how she felt - she didn't think she would even make it to tomorrow.
She couldn’t ignore the heavy footsteps looming just outside the door—slow, deliberate, too confident, like whoever they belonged to thought they owned the place. Each step sounded quieter than usual. New shoes, maybe. Snyder probably bought them with money meant for the kids—funds that should’ve gone towards making the refuge a slightly better place to stay at. Instead, it padded his pockets and his soles. It wasn’t rare for him to pace the halls outside the rooms. It was a threat without words, a reminder that he was always there, always listening, always watching. The message was clear: they couldn’t do anything without him knowing. It was his favourite kind of control—the silent kind that crawled under your skin. Her stomach twisted at the sound, bile rising with each step. Just the mention of his name was enough to send shivers down any orphan’s spine. And Crutchie? Crutchie was just one of the unlucky ones who hadn’t found a way out, hadn't been able to escape from the bulls on that stupid day. She never got to forget the day the strike had failed, her body definitely couldn't forget. It left her lip healing wrong and her ribs throbbing. The bruises from the day were yellowing now — beautiful yet terrible as they bloomed across her skin almost everywhere - she was basically a giant and ill bruise.
She heard the steps following a path. It went into the first of the six rooms, the one crutchie knew was opposite the one she was in, a room stuffed with even more kids. then this room was. Except when the footsteps walked back outside of the room, loads followed after. Was it dinner already? it didn't look too late outside. She pulled herself closer, knees achingly close to her swollen ribs. She didn't care. Knowing Snyder he wouldn't bother calling her for food; he was still angry at her withholding information about Jacks location or the strike plans. If he wanted her to come anyway he would just drag her by her leg. She couldn't even move if she wanted to anyway since Snyder had taken her crutch away from her on the grounds of it being a potential weapon (which he proved after beating her with it but still.) She followed the footsteps and its patterns; going into each room on its own and leaving with a dozen extra footsteps. He made his way through all the other rooms before approaching the one she was staying in.
The light conversation in the room was officially gone as the door handle turned. She knew the fear these kids had after being trapped here for months. It made her feel bad - not just for them but also for Jack. He out of all the Manhattan newsies had been to the refuge the most, only getting out three years ago thanks to the Governor wanting to show his love for orphans. Personally, she didn't believe the act - she thought it was all a ploy so he looked good for the cameras but she didn't care - jack got out and that's all that mattered. She got brought out her head as the steps entered the area and spoke. Her ears rung so she couldn't hear what was being said by the man but she could tell the atmosphere had shifted. She didn't make an effort to move. She could feel the floor moving with the steps of other kids. Except she only heard the softer steps leave meaning it was just her and Snyder in the room. That was what scared her. She felt herself run colder then she already felt, sweating not only from the fever but the slight nervousness that overwhelmed her. She focused as well as she could on the floor despite her eyes being fuzzy and feeling incredibly nauseous. Low and behold, the shape of two hazelnut brown loafers came into view. He was in front of her. She held her breath, not wanting to be forced to apologise for simply breathing. Silence wrapped around Crutchie but instead of being that usual suffocating feeling that wrapped too tightly around her throat, it was more like a hug; warm and safe - something she had been craving.
Soon, the mans voice cut through. Although she couldn't hear to well, she knew it wasn't Snyder's voice. "Would i be correct if i said these belong to you, young lady?" She tilted her head up ever so slightly and caught sight of the man. He was dressed too fancy to be a guard; a large brown suit jacket, glasses and some fancy hat - also a beautiful moustache but still. She caught sight of what he was holding. Whilst one hand gripped onto a cane, he was still holding an item in both of them. The one with the cane held - her crutch! She took the object too quickly, leaving him to stumble back with a small laugh and her head to spin. She held it close like it was a child's comfort toy. She remembered when she got it. Her previous one had been stolen by, at the time strangers but now she knew it was the Delancey brothers - her bruises stung at the thought of the pair . She had been found by Jack and brought to the lodging house. Her first night there had been paid for by him so for the first time since being kicked out she had a bed. She woke up in the morning to it being laid next to her. A new crutch. It was made from wood and cloth and very obviously the hard work from the news boys who had most definitely stolen the wood and cloth and made the crutch with it. She looked up, pulling the crutch under her arm to test its comfort only to be met with the wide smiles of the kids. All she did was smile back at them with her adorable eight-year-old smile with its singular missing tooth - she was grateful the smile stayed the same way even seven years later.
She looked up again in his other hand and she felt her eyes water at the sight It was her hat. She remembered the day too well. It had been nearly two months since she had been a proper newsie and boy was she the best seller. Except the group learnt quickly she didn't do too well in the heat. It left her nauseous and extremely fatigued leading to her once passing out on poor JoJo. The solution to this was for her to have a hat! She had been given one of the other newsies old hat and she didn't want to admit how bad it smelt. That and limiting her selling time managed to get her through the heat wave New York was facing. On one day her and Jack were done selling and were taking a small stroll together in the shade, her crutch made a satisfying noise with every step she took - it was sturdy, able to support her weight properly even if she lent on it unlike her old flimsy one which in the end she never found but with the new one and seeing Jack soak the two brother that didn't matter match. She decided to peer through a window and she saw it. A beige cap which had a section that shaded her eyes, It was perfect and Jack must of caught sight of her watching it as the next thing she knew, they were both running away from a bull who had been sent to chase after them by the shopkeeper and a very happy Jack Kelly, holding onto said beige cap in one hand and the other intertwined with a very happy Crutchie's free hand. She remembered looking up at Jack after they had evaded the bull by stumbling into an alleyway and behind stacks of boxes. He smiled down at her and pulled the cap onto her head, mentioning how it was a perfect fit before ruffling the hat and making his way out of the alleyway with her close behind in tow and that day the fellas had given her loads of compliment on how cool her new cap was. She kept the old one still, tucked underneath the pillow of her mattress on Jack's penthouse because it meant too much to her to throw out, an extra source of comfort.
Before she could reach up to take it from the mans hands, he placed it on her head, making sure it was situated just fine. "Perfect fit." he smiled at her. She blinked at him. "Who are you.?" The words came out more shaky then she would of liked. Her throat was raw, hoarse from the lack of water and speaking she had done. "The man who's getting you out of this place." He stuck a hand out for her. It wasn't forceful, more like an offer in case she wanted the extra support; it was like he could see the Independence she longed for still dance like the mightiest flame in her eye. "Now, shall we leave?" She hesitated before taking his hand and pulling herself to stand. She stumbled and he caught her. Every part of her was aching so badly but as she stepped foot outside the refuge and was met by the actual sun beaming at her alongside fresh air instead of the smell of musk and Mold, part of her thought that she was going to see tomorrow now.
