Daughter of the Refuge

Chapter One

Hiya people, so I just want to make a note about this chapter. It deals with mention of attempted suicide and suicidal thoughts. The character dealing with it does not follow though, but like I already said, it's talked about. If you struggle with suicidal thoughts and this kind of thing triggers you, you can skip to the second section of this chapter (There's like a larger break or whatever) and I will sum up what happened.

July, 1894

The boy walked along the busy streets of New York, his hands in his pockets and his eyes on the ground. 

To an outsider, he was just another boy, maybe off to pick his brother up from school, or run errands for his parents. Looking at the boy, no one could see the battle that was fought everyday in his mind. No one could see how the boy of a mere eleven was holding the weight of the world upon his shoulder. 

So he continued walking, one destination in mind. With each step closer, the weight grew heavier and the battle harder to fight. With each step, the boy could feel himself giving in. 

He wasn't meant to be here. He should have died along with his family. Nobody needed him, nobody wanted him. As far as he was concerned, it was his fault his family was dead. That's what he had been told over and over again until it became the only truth he knew. 

He glanced up when a heard a boy yelling about a disaster striking a poor family who were residents of Brooklyn. The boy was fairly tall, with light brown hair and a cheeky grin. 

"Hey kid!" He called out. "Wan'a pape?"

"No," he replied. 

"Ya sure? They've got some great headline taday," the newsboy continued.

"Ya mean you've come up with some betta headlines than those stinkin' ones they write." The newsboy's jaw dropped. 

"How'd ya know?"

"I gotta go."

"Hey kid, you got a job?"

"Don't need one."

"Well, if ya do, yous could be a newsie."

"Thanks, I guess, but I gotta go," the boy said, turning to continue his walk. 

"Hey kid!" The newsboy called out one last time. The boy glanced back at him. "Uh, nevamind. See ya 'round."

And he kept walking. 

Until he was standing on the Brooklyn Bridge, looking down into the rapidly moving water in the river below. 

His heart was pounding and his mind racing. 

Could he do it? Could he take the step off and rid this world of himself? He didn't know if he had the courage. But neither did he have the courage to fight the war with his mind anymore. 

He wrapped his hand against the braces of the Bridge, relishing in the feeling of the cold metal against his equally as cold hands. 

One step is all it would take. Just one. He could do this. 

There's nothing left for you here, nobody needs you. All you are is a burden and a danger. Look at what you did to your family. 

The boy pressed his face into the brace, willing the thoughts out of his mind, but nothing ever helped. He felt a tear slip down his cheek. 

It's time, just let go.

But that's when he heard a shout. 

"Hey!" The voice called out.