Crutchie's POV
I left 'The World' and sat on the curb, throwing my dumb crutch onto the road and burying my head in my hands.
She lied to me, she's a Delancey, she's one of them. I thought back to everyday at the refuge. Everyday being beaten. Being starved. Every night I'd woken up in a cold sweat from a dream about that place. I remembered every time I had seen the Delancey brothers and been afraid for my life. Every threat they'd made. Every ridicule or bruise. She was one of them.
What makes it worse is I truly thought I could be with her. I thought she might be the one. Why couldn't she just be Clara; the girl I loved? Clara; the girl who made me feel unstoppable butterflies from the moment we first made eye contact? Or even better, Clara Morris; the girl I get to see walking down the aisle? Why did she have to be Clara Delancey; sister of the people who are willing to leave me for dead? Oh, why are you a Delancey?
"You okay bud?", I looked up to see Jack sitting next to me, offering me my forgotten crutch.
"Did ya know?", I asked him, taking my crutch from his hands and placing it next to me.
He shook his head and looked at me sympathetically, "Nah, not 'till now". I smiled sadly, holding back tears. Jack sighed.
"I know how it feels Crutchie", he leant back on his hands, "you know that wese a fam'ly right?", he said, chuckling and nudging my arm with his elbow. "I ain't gonna let you down".
"I know", I responded, letting a small smile slip out, "I just really thought I could love 'er".
"No Crutchie, I saw da way you looked at 'er", Jack smiled and skimmed a pebble across the road, "you do love 'er". I looked down onto the concrete, knowing perfectly well, he was right.
"So, how 'bout some soda", Jack sighed, standing up and offering me his hand, "on me".
I meekly smiled up at him, taking his hand and standing up, pushing my crutch under my arm. Maybe, one day, I'll find someone as perfect as she is. Someone who isn't a Delancey.