No, I refuse to accept that Charlie will end up like me. I have to do something, now. We need more money to use and to put away. I spent all night thinking about this and I've made up my mind. Mum never has to know about it. I'll do it tonight and see how things go. After a meager breakfast, I set out and head to just the alley I need. I've spent my fair share of time on the street as a kid, so I got to know the city pretty well. I know where to go to get a sturdy jacket for a decent price. I know where to go to get a kid if you need something disposed of or taken care of. I know who to go to if the high-society snobs are treating you like a wet teabag and you need one messed up. And I know where to go to find the infamous board for girls with no where to go. All you need is a paper where you write your name, available times and then you post it. Usually within the day, there's a location scrawled on in quick writing.
I put mine up with a racing heart and duck out of the alley quickly. Then, I try to forget about it and make my rounds. Good morning, Mr. Reikon! Anything for me today? No? Alright then, have a nice day! Good morning, Mr. Karstaire! Could you use a hand with something today? Babysitting this afternoon? I'll see you then! Good morning, Mrs. Lavelle! Got any chores you'd spare a few pounds for? The gardening? Happy to!
I've been so restless all morning, it's all I can do to focus on the gutters I'm cleaning out. The idea of what I have to do is strangely split between two very different reactions. Part of me thinks it will be awful and scary, the other thinks it'll be fun and make me more confident. It really depends on how it goes and who saw the notice.
I'm heading home for lunch when, in a spur of the moment decision, I make a sharp turn and hurry to the alley to check on my notice. My breath comes in quick puffs of steam as it leaves my lips and clouds my goggles. I push them up onto my forehead and hop over a pile of trash that spilled out of a bag long ago. I scan the board quickly and blanch when I see scribbled in hasty handwriting at the bottom of my paper, East Elm Street. 11:00 pm.
My eyes widen and I feel chilled to the bone. I shiver and snatch the paper, shoving it unceremoniously into my pocket alongside the empty bird's nest I had found in the gutter for Charlie. I knew it was long since vacant, so I thought it'd make a cool late birthday present. I make my way home carefully, checking over my shoulder every so often to make sure I'm not being followed by whoever left those words for me. East Elm Street.
I finally make it home and eat with my grandparents. Charlie's at school and Mum's probably working through lunch, the deal is I make them lunch and Mum makes us all dinner. Though I usually end up making part of dinner despite it being Mum's job, I don't mind.
We eat in silence until I gather enough courage to say, "I'm going to spend the night at Addie's house. She invited me over to see her new house and to sleep there. Could you tell Mum?"
"Why, sure we can. No shenanigans with that boy of hers, you hear?" Grandpa Joe says.
"They're married, Grandpa Joe. I'll be staying in their guest bedroom," I respond. The story is, Addie comes from a rich and kind family. She has me over for dinner at her parent's house sometimes and has a fourteen year old brother who likes to pull her hair. Addie's a year older than me and plays the piano. She's been married since November and recently fixed up a place for her and her husband. Her husband is a banker and very well off. I helped her parent's with housework once and that's how we met. She's very down-to-earth and likes how hardworking I am.
My family buys it, so I keep selling it. I clear the makeshift table and wash the bowls and spoons. I say my goodbyes and tell them to give Charlie an extra squeeze for me before heading out into the cold, toward Mr. Karstaire's house.
• • •
The night didn't start out too bad. I had to wait around a little bit until a dark figure met me on the street and confirmed my identity before bringing me to his flat. He introduced himself as Nigel, but I highly doubt that's his real name. He was handsome enough, a few years older than me, but not too old so as to deter me entirely. I may not have much experience in the dating world, or any, but I know when a man is attractive. He had blond hair, reaching just below his ears, and dark, smouldering brown eyes. He had a chiseled jaw and fairly muscular frame. He had a predatory smile playing on his lips the whole time. There was something just so elegantly mysterious in the way he held himself. He would fit in at one of the Queen's balls or at a filthy stable equally well. He had that handsome-rogue look that was at the same time exquisitely beautiful and astoundingly average.
He invited me in kindly enough and offered me spirits. I declined and sat awkwardly while he poured himself a glass and drank it while raking me up and down with his appreciative gaze. I blushed hard and tried to remain stoic until he set his glass on the counter and asked me how much I charge. I responded with a hundred pounds and he gave it to me. No question. I tucked it into my pocket with a sense of triumph. He sauntered toward me and took my hand a little less than gently. He took me to his room and did his thing while I tried not to cry. When I looked at him again, he no longer seemed mysterious, but dangerous. No longer handsome, but scary. His chiseled jaw turned into a cruel, sharp edge that could cut me. His smouldering eyes turned into angry, demanding pools of darkness that sucked me in. His handsome rogue-ish look turned into the likeness of a cunning assassin.
The second he was finished, he shoved me away from him and bellowed, "Get out, ya filthy runt."
I could have fought. I could have protested against being turned out. But I had no more spirit left. So I went. After I collected my things, of course. I went and have been wandering the dark streets for the past three hours. I can't go home because they'd wonder what happened that I'm not at Addie's house. It's not that bad though, I hardly notice the frigid air and swirling snows. Snowflakes alight my matted hair and slumped shoulders. Icy winds kiss my ghostly pale skin. Frozen teardrops decorate my cheeks and shatter when I wipe them away to make room for more. I hug my arms to my chest in a self-soothing attempt.
Images and memories haunt me as terror rips through me. His words replay themselves over and over as I walk alone in the dim streetlight. He had called me a filthy runt. Now, I know I am a clean person, but I can see where he was coming from with the "runt" part. I'm small for my age, only 5'2" and 93 lbs. But he called me filthy. Filthy!
Thoughts torment my mind and I am sucked into a vortex of my own invention. But now, there is no Charlie to get me out of it.
• • •
I found my way home, luckily, in the golden beams of morning, just in time to catch Charlie as he is leaving for school.
"Dawn!" he shouts, running to meet me. I duck my head so he can't see the misery on my face and let him embrace me. It's reassuring and warm and he lets go all too soon.
"I have something for you," I remember blandly. I reach into my pocket to find it empty save for the money. No bird nest. My face falls even further if that's possible, the nest must have fallen out somewhere. I take out a two pound note instead and hand it to Charlie. My voice takes on a conspiratorial tone when I say, "I found that on the street, it must be a sign. After school, I want you to go to Mr. Goldstein's and get the first Wonka bar you see. Bring it home and we'll open it after everyone else has gone to bed. You and I are going to have one last fling at finding that last Golden Ticket, sound good?"
Some excitement had crept into my voice and Charlie heightens it with his wide smile and enthusiastic nod. He laughs with glee and does his funny bounce-walk out the gate. I sigh heavily and screw up my face, prepared for a barrage of questions when I get inside.
I was right to do so because the second they see me, words start flying. Mum walks to me and inspects my face, looking for something off. "You're so pale, Dawn. What happened?"
"Yeah, I just had to walk home. It was a long walk, and I got lost a few times. I wanted to get here before light, so I was navigating in the dark," I explain. Mum puts her hand on my cheek and exclaims when she feels the frosty temperature.
"You're freezing! I forbid you from working today, you are going to go upstairs right now, Dawn, and change out of those wet clothes." I hadn't even realized I was soaked, but now that she mentions it, the uncomfortable heaviness hits me. "I'll boil some water so you can have a hot bath, but you are staying inside and with a blanket at all times. You'll catch pneumonia like this!" I realize she's right. I'm alright with staying home today because I got so much money last night, but I can't be out of commision forever. I climb upstairs, much less agile than normal, and change quickly behind a curtain in the corner. A cold gust of wind comes in through the hole in the roof and I shiver uncontrollably. I go downstairs to get the warm water and find my mother gone, my grandparents asleep, and a note saying she forgot about not paying the water bill, and she's gone to work "since someone has to." I hadn't even heard her leave. I wonder if she's mad at me. For not being able to work today?
I really needed that hot water. I silently curse myself, since when do I requires such luxuries? I go back upstairs and snuggle under the blankets, trying to absorb warmth from them and keep out the cold. My joints are stiff and my skin has a weird pale, clammy look to it. My hair is still matted from last night and the notes burn in my coat pocket. I can buy water now. We need water. I'm too tired to move. We need water. I hoist myself up, with much protest from my limbs and put on my still damp coat. I put on my scarf, boots, gloves, and goggles before heading out of the house.
• • •
After a hot bath, I felt much better physically. Mentally...I don't know if I'll ever be better. I had lain down under the blankets again and slept until dinner time. Mum had seen the water I bought and made sure to take the labels off of. While we ate, I explained how Addie had driven by to make sure I got home alright and when she saw my condition and I told her about our water situation, she filled some jugs up and gave them to me.
Mum barely said a word to me at all and Charlie sat still with a grin exploding with joy on his face. The grandparents weren't particularly conversational today, so it was mostly a silent evening.
When Charlie and I went upstairs to go to bed, he sat on his bed very much awake and patted his pocket with a pointed look. I nod and hold a finger to my lips and nod my chin to the hole in the floor where we can see everyone else still awake as well. Charlie and I sit in the darkness for a little while, watching everyone downstairs stealthily. My arm is draped over Charlie's shoulders, and he is leaning into me while we wait. The grandparents fall asleep pretty quickly, but Mum stays up reading the paper and getting a few bills in order. Charlie nodded off once but I nudged him softly and he woke up. Once Mum's eyes finally droop closed, we creep away from the edge and sit on the bed together. Charlie's eyes dart back and forth as he pulls the purple and red wrapped bar out of his pocket. He hands it to me, but I hand it back.
"You do it," I whisper to him. His hands are shaking and he looks to me with wide, hopeful eyes.
"Which end should I open?" he asks in a low voice.
"It doesn't matter, does it? Which ever way you open it, we'll see if there's a ticket eventually." I shrug. He concedes with nod and takes a deep breath before tearing it open in one swift motion. I don't see gold. He scours the chocolate and the wrapper. Nothing. He looks down with dull eyes, obviously disappointed.
"Oh, well. Here, Dawn," he says, holding out half of the chocolate to me.
"You know I don't like chocolate, bud," I respond, and suddenly, I feel very much like that horrid boy that won the fourth Golden Ticket. I bite my lip so I don't cry and turn away, reaching into my jacket pocket. He needs to win. We need a win. I take out my wad of notes and turn back around. Charlie is lying on his side, staring forlornly at the wall. I'm about to say something and give him more money to get another candy bar when an intense gust picks up and swirls about me. My scarf is lifted from its position at my feet and blows toward the open roof. I grab for it with both hands and a second too late, I realize I let go of the money to do so. Notes of all values swirl about me and zip out the hole despite my desperate grab for them. I see the wind carry them away, dancing about on the invisible currents, taunting me. I feel a devastated jar in my heart and I slump to the ground as the wind calms down. As the last tendrils of air seem to retract from inside, the rich scent of chocolate tickles my nose.
Charlie turns over to see me on the ground. Worry wrinkles his forehead. "Are you alright, Dawn?"
"Yeah, I just...the wind just...did you smell chocolate a second ago?"
"No, why?"
"Really? You didn't smell anything when that huge gust of wind came in?"
Charlie gives me a weird look. "What wind, Dawn?"
"The wind...it just...nevermind." I lay down fully, defeated. I'm going mad, I just know it. That wind was hard not to notice, if Charlie didn't feel it...
It doesn't matter. Nothing matters anymore. I'm starting back at square one tomorrow, and last night was useless. All the blood and pain last night. Useless. Tears silently streak my face. Useless. My mother snores lightly, and I think of her anger with me earlier today. Useless. Filthy runt. Useless.
Dudes, I think I just made this more Tim Burton than Tim Burton did. 😂
Thank you so much for reading! You're awesome!
xoxo, Tilly