I Don't Own Emotion -Open-

[Bella Harris]

Bella sat near the market place, painting a picture of a meadow. She loved painting, she loved the feeling that she could create something beautiful. All she heard was she was ugly and worthless and good for nothing. Her artwork helped her in two ways. One, she felt wonderful when someone complimented her artwork. Two, it was a way to unleash her anger and emotions.

She carefully painted, making sure each line was perfect and that the picture would come out beautiful. She rolled up the sleeves of her blouse, letting her wounds get air so they could heal. That, and she didn't want to grow hot while painting. She smudged a few of the lines together to create a blended look. She had smudges of paint on her face that helped disguise the bruises and cuts. She even had some paint on her arms, so the cuts and bruises looked like red, blue and black paint.

This was the job she enjoyed. She enjoyed creating art, not performing for drunk men. She felt beautiful when she created art, not dirty and used when she performed. If she could, she would paint all day. But she couldn't she had to go back home to Edward. He would then find some reason to get angry at her, because that was when her parents weren't home. Her father was off working, and her mother was most likely shopping or visiting friends.

Bella didn't have any friends, she scared most of them away. She's never felt the love or comfort of a friend or boyfriend. Most of the girls her age had a group of friends, and a beau. Bella had none of that. She had her artwork and...nothing else. She looked over and saw a young man with his girlfriend, they were holding hands and smiling at each other. She knew she couldn't blame them, but she wondered why everyone else could be happy but her?

She didn't even ask for this lifestyle, she wanted anything but the life she led now. She never asked to move away from Italy, she never asked to perform in a pub, and she never asked for the worst uncle ever. She didn't want to live in misery anymore, she wanted to be free. Free from her uncle, her job, her parents, her home, everything.

She loved her parents dearly, but had a certain resentment towards them. Why couldn't they notice her misery, and tormented soul? Yes, they would be good parents and ask her what happened. But she had to lie. They probably weren't good parents because she wasn't a good daughter. She feared for the life of her father. She knew Edward hated him, because of what he yelled to her. You stupid girl! You're just like your father, good for nothing! You're worthless, you're a mistake, and nobody loves you. His words hurt more then anything.

She had to wonder sometimes, was she really worthless and good for nothing? Would somebody ever love her? That's the one thing missing from her life, love. She didn't have the love and support from her family, and she didn't have any friends. Bella was lonely, and she hated it.

People came to talk to her, but it was normally to see if she was alright. They always caught her at a bad time, and she lashed out at them. She didn't mean to, but what else could she do? She was hurt, she was upset, she was in pain. Sometimes that caught others by surprise, and they walked off. And sometimes she got yelled at- again.

She pulled herself out of her self-pity cloud, she was the only one who would pity herself. Everyone else didn't care. She continued to paint with grace and ease. Hopefully she could sell a painting today, and buy something to eat without Edward knowing. Its been three days since she last ate. Edward wanted to keep her figure trim so she could get more tips from men at the pub. Even though she was underweight, and anything but heavy.

With a flick of her wrist she finished the painting. She smiled, admiring her work. It was beautiful; a picture of a meadow with wildflowers, and the sun was shining. Now all she had to do was wait for someone to approach her. And if that didn't work, she would approach others and ask if they wanted to buy her painting. She was taught only to speak unless spoken to, so she would wait for someone to approach her.

[Kid Blink]

Kid Blink pushed his way through the crowded market, beaming. He'd had a good day, and he'd only been out on the streets for an hour or so. He looked down at his few remaining papers and smirked. "Only ten more," he thought excitedly and looked around, searching the crowds for a familiar face, "Only ten more, and then I can go and find Mush and... do something to him." There! There was Mush, and... he was with a girl, as to be expected. And, there were no papers under his arm. Which meant he had already sold all of his. Which meant he'd be taking said girl out to dinner. Which meant that when he came back later this evening, Mush would want to tell Blink all about it. It was to be expected, since Blink and Mush were best friends after all. But recently, Mush's exploits in wooing women had begun to get on Blink's nerves. Although Blink didn't like to admit it, not even to himself, it was probably because he hadn't been having much luck with women himself lately.

So, this morning he had initiated a prank war with Mush. And contrary to the morning person Mush was, Mush promptly informed Blink that he was off his trolley and needed to quit being such a bonehead in the morning. Blink scoffed and rolled his eyes. Mush could be so full of himself sometimes. Yeah, and he'd show Mush. Blink neither wanted, nor needed, girls falling head over heels for him. He wanted a girl who had her own personality. A girl who was strong minded, rather than weak-willed. A girl who... never mind.

All this thinking was tiring. Blink would rather be joking around and goofing off with Mush than analyzing anything. He needed to clear his head. Maybe he'd go for a swim or something later. Blink shook his head and raised one of his papers. The headline stated, "WEDDING FLOWERS ATTRACT BEES; BRIDE AND GROOM STUNG MULTIPLE TIMES" A smirk formed on Blink's face, and he called out, "KILLER BEES INVADE WEDDING; MANY FLEE IN PANIC!"

In five minutes, Blink had sold the rest of his papers and was in a good mood. He surveyed the market. People were shouting, and merchants were bargaining. It wasn't as noisy or chaotic as it was in the morning though. He shoved his hands in his pockets and sauntered over to the side walk, wrapping an arm around a lamp pole and swinging around so he was facing the crowded street again. His good eye, the one not covered by the worn leather patch, raked the crowd, searching for Mush. There he was. He was still standing with the girl, but they had moved. She was sitting on a crate, a smile playing on her face, and Mush was talking animatedly, making small gestures with his hands. Blink knew Mush well enough to recognize that he was nervous. Maybe Mush really liked the girl. Blink grinned. It was hard to be mad at Mush for long. Or jealous, for that matter, Blink thought.

He swung himself around the pole and started off down the sidewalk. He had enough money in his pocket that he could afford to take a girl out, but the only thing lacking was the girl. Blink sighed. He stepped around a gentleman in a top hat and stumbled against a crate. Blink grunted as his right knee scraped against the rough wood, and he shot out a hand to steady himself before he sustained any further injuries. He stood up, and stretched, then sat back down on the crate, pulling up his trouser leg to look at his knee. It was just a scrape fortunately, and no blood. He dropped his knee and took in the people rushing by him. Nothing interesting was happening, but then something, someone actually, caught his eye. There was a girl sitting on a small crate; a makeshift easel sat in front of her, and a glorious painting which she had clearly just finished sat on the easel. Blink was intrigued. He hopped off the crate and made his way towards her. He stood behind her and examined the painting. Blink had never seen a real painting that he could recall. And he had never seen a meadow. He was transfixed. It was beautiful. It was a picture of a meadow with wildflowers, and the sun was shining. It was nothing like he was used to. He wondered if such a place could exist. He was captivated, and he wished he could buy it, but he knew he wouldn't have enough money, and he wasn't sure if she was selling it. He snapped out of his reverie and looked down at the girl. "The painting suits her," Blink thought absently, "She's kinda beautiful too..." She was about his age, with wavy, light brown hair. He hesitated, then tapped her on the shoulder. "S'cuse me miss," Blink said, using some of the manners he had picked up from Mush, although he would never admit that to him, "Yer paintings beautiful."

[Bella Harris]

When Bella finished her painting she sat on her crate and watched the city life go by her. She wished she could go out and talk to the people, make some new friends. But that would never happen, not as long as she was with Edward. She never asked for this life, so why did she get it? What did she do to deserve this?

She watched as children played with balls and jacks and what nots. She sighed, one day she would want a family. She wanted to meet a nice man, and they would fall in love and have a nice family. She vowed she would never let her children go through what she had gone through. Growing up, her life was horrible. It was just a living nightmare for her. Everyday was a struggle to stay alive.

She shook her head out of her thoughts, she needed to focus on selling her paintings. She had to have some sort of money so she could live. If not, hopefully she got a lot of tips at the pub she performed at, maybe a bachelor party would happen tonight. She hated working at the sleazy pub, but she was forced and threatened. She didn't want to die, so she did. At least it was better than being a prostitute.

"S'cuse me miss, Yer paintings beautiful."

Bella turned around and saw a young man that might've been her age, maybe a bit older. He was very attractive with sandy blonde hair, and an eyepatch over his left eye. She smiled when he complimented her paintings, that never happened. Edward told her that she had no talent, and painting was useless. "Thank you..." She said, pulling up her shirt a bit so it would cover the bruises and welts that she had on them. "I'm Bella," She said. Normally she didn't trust people this early, but he complimented her, and that never happened. The least she could do is give him her name. She offered him a smile.

[Kid Blink]

"Thank you...
The corners of Blink's mouth twitched, a slight smile dawning on his face. He could tell already, by virtue of the fact that she had said thank you, that she was genuine. Natural was the only other way to describe her. Beautiful like the painting. He recalled his earlier thought about her painting, how it suited her. The painting was beautiful, and it had occurred to him that it suited her. He had not been quite sure what he meant by that, or how it "suited" but now he knew. The painting was... natural. It was nothing like you could find in New York--paintings you could find of course, but Blink had never seen anything natural in New York. Rather, he had never seen anything of beauty naturally growing amid the buildings, the smoke, the people crowding the streets...

"I'm Bella"
The corners of Blink's mouth twitched, and a smile played lightly upon his face. "Bella, that's a nice name," he mumbled, then he grinned broadly. "Kid Blink," he declared, "'Cause of, y'know..." he gestured towards his eye patch. He was blind in that eye and had fashioned an eye patch for himself a while back. He always wore it, and no one asked questions. It wasn't too hard to figure out the reason behind it. "So, you a painter, Bella? D'you sell em?" Blink cursed inwardly. He felt like a bonehead. Obviously Bella was a painter if she had painted the picture. He hoped she didn't pick up on his nervousness either. It struck him as he thought it, that he was nervous. He wasn't usually nervous when it came to talking or interacting with girls. "Strange," he mused.

[Bella Harris]

Bella smiled, He has a lovely smile. She thought to herself. For some reason she felt really...giddy. Perhaps it was because this was the first conversation with someone from the 'outside world' in a long time. She had been locked up in her room for what seemed like forever. Edward was a horrible man, but yet he could continue on with his terrible act. Poor Bella was the subject of his rage, and nobody seemed to notice. Nobody seemed to care..

"Bella, that's a nice name, Kid Blink, 'Cause of, y'know..."

She smiled, "Thanks, my parents gave me the nickname Bella when I was younger. It means beautiful in Italian, that's where I'm from; Italy." She said, she normally didn't share this much information, but she felt a certain connection with Blink for some reason. She just thought it was because she was so lonely. "I take it the name 'Kid Blink' is a nickname?" She inquired. "If it is, its a nice nickname." She said.

"So, you a painter, Bella? D'you sell em?"

Bella nodded, when she did a lock of hair fell into her face. She pushed it away behind her ear. "Yeah, I'm a painter. I learned it all from my father. He used to be a painter before he met my mother. And yes, I sell them." She paused, sighing slightly. "I haven't had too much luck with selling them lately. I haven't been painting much." She said, the past couple of weeks had been bad. Edward was angrier than Bella had ever seen him. It scared her, and it made Edward find every other thing that she did at fault. He really went over on her, she wasn't able to walk without pain for two days.

[Kid Blink]

"Thanks, my parents gave me the nickname Bella when I was younger. It means beautiful in Italian,"

Blink noticed her staring at him and he reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. Maybe she'd like to go to Tibby's he thought, but refrained from asking quite yet. He grinned wryly, "Well, I'm not sure what yer real name is, but Bella suits ya," Blink paused. He knew he was a flirt, maybe not to the extent that Mush was, but a flirt all the same. Blink took pride in his skill."What is yer real name, though?"

"That's where I'm from, Italy."
So she's Italian, eh? He grinned. "You'se born in Italy? Where?" He was curious. Racetrack was Italian, and was sometimes taken to cursing in Italian when he played poker. He wondered if she knew Italian also.

"I take it the name 'Kid Blink' is a nickname? If it is, its a nice nickname."

Blink smiled at her comment. No one had really ever said anything about his nickname, for that was what it was. A nickname. "My real name's Louis Ballat, but I don't really like it. I'se been goin' by Kid Blink fer so long s'prising I even rememba' it," he paused, "It's 'cause I'se blind in me left eye."

"Yeah, I'm a painter. I learned it all from my father. He used to be a painter before he met my mother. And yes, I sell them."

A lock of her hair fell into her face, and Blink resisted the urge to reach out and tuck it behind her ear. She really does have beautiful hair, he mused. He glanced up at her painting when she confirmed that she sold her pieces. He wished he had more money. He had the urge to buy the painting which was like nothing Blink had ever seen. Of course, he wasn't sure what he would do with the painting, and it would probably get destroyed or messed up if he brought it back to the lodging house, but still... he wished he had bought more papers that morning.

"I haven't had too much luck with selling them lately. I haven't been painting much."

Blink took a moment and regarded her with a speculative gaze. She had paint smudges all over her arms and her face, but something just didn't add up. The smudges and blots of paint didn't look like they were there because she accidentally leaned her arm against the canvas, or she touched her arm or face with the tip of a paint-covered fingertip. They looked... almost deliberate, Blink mused. He wanted to ask her if she was allright, but hesitated, not wanting her to push him away if he became too nosy in her opinion. But he didn't let that stop the concern from showing on his face. "You'se, uh...," Blink changed his question, "What do you'se do beside painting?" He had come close to asking her if there was something bothering her, but he didn't expect that she would actually tell him. He changed his mind after a moment and looked at her with a frown. He couldn't ignore it. It seemed obvious now that he looked at her arms and face that the paint smudges were, well, deliberate to an extent. "You'se okay?" he finally asked quietly. She didn't have to answer, but he felt he ought to ask. Worst she could do is t'refuse t'answer, he thought, and he hoped that she wouldn't pack up and leave or refuse to talk to him., even. He berated himself. He was most definitely overthinking things. "Ugh, she prolly thinks I'se a bonehead or sumthin'." He flushed, and tugged on the brim of his cap nervously.

[Bella Harris]

"What is yer real name, though?"

Bella thought for a moment, maybe Edward wouldn't get upset with her if she just said her real name. It was better than some of the names he gave her. "My real name is Isabella." She said. "So its not much of a huge name change for me, a lot of girls in Italy go by Bella. Because Isabella's such a common name." She said with a small smile.

"You'se born in Italy? Where?"

She nodded, "Venice, Italy. I lived there until I was seven." She said, she loved her home country dearly. Everything was better in Italy, there was no abuse, no Edward, nothing bad.

"My real name's Louis Ballat, but I don't really like it. I'se been goin' by Kid Blink fer so long s'prising I even rememba' it, It's 'cause I'se blind in me left eye."

The corners of her mouth twitched slightly into a frown. "Oh really? You're blind in your left eye?" She asked, pausing a bit. "If you don't mind my asking, how did it happen?" She could recall a moment when her uncle threatened that he would blind her, and push her in front of a trolley so she would die. He said it would solve everyone's problems.

"What do you'se do beside painting?"

A slight flush approached her pale, yet bruised face. "I uh, work in a pub." She stared at the ground. "A burlesque performer." She said, softly. She was embarrassed about her second job, she was forced to work there. She hated it, and dreaded 7 o clock every evening.

"You'se okay?"

She continued to stare at the ground, and nodded weakly. "I'm fine, its nothing...don't worry about it." She said. It wasn't nothing, but she didn't want anyone to know her horrible secret. Edward threatened her, and even though she hated to admit it, she was terrified of him. He was a horrible person to live with.

[Kid Blink]

My real name is Isabella. So its not much of a huge name change for me, a lot of girls in Italy go by Bella. Because Isabella's such a common name."'

Blink smiled. "Isabella," he said slowly, "I like it." The name Isabella was new to him. He did not know many people from Italy, or even with Italian heritage. He knew Racetrack was Italian, of course, since Race spoke the language. But Bella, Isabella, Blink thought, was the only Italian girl he knew. "Well, yer lucky here, I guess, 'cause yer the only Isabella, or Bella, I know."

"Venice, Italy. I lived there until I was seven."

Venice, well that was a new one to him. He did not have much exposure to the world beyond New York. He occasionally scanned through the papes before he sold them, but he never really read the articles. Scanning through the pape just helped him to come up with new headlines to shout. Kid Blink's actual knowledge of the world outside of the states was little to none. But he had heard of certain places, and although he didn't really have a memory of his parents, he had found out that his mother was from France. "What's it like?" Blink asked curiously, taking a seat on an overturned crate near Bella, "Venice, I mean. 'Ya miss it much?"

"Oh really? You're blind in your left eye? If you don't mind my asking, how did it happen?"

He shifted positions on the crate he was sitting. He reached up and tugged on the brim of his cap, and looked at her with a grin. It was no use being depressed about being blind, he thought. He was used to it anyway. "Yeah, I'se blind in it. When I was just'a kid, I was in a boys home or something, I'se not really sure, and there was a fight in the bunk room and something shattered and hit me in the eye. The doctor said I'd be blind innit, an' I lost sight in that eye in a month. I became a newsie soon afta' that, though." He finished with a shrug. He looked back up at Bella and grinned, "A'least the patch looks kinda cool, eh?"

"I uh, work in a pub. A burlesque performer."

Blink looked at Bella and frowned. "S'nothing wrong with working in a pub, I guess," he hesitated, then continued, "But, uh, burlesque... performin'," Blink paused, he knew he pronounced the word "burlesque" terribly, but it was of no importance right now, "You'se don't like it." he stated. A slight flush had appeared across Bella's pale skin. It was clear to him that she was embarrassed, but she wasn't meeting his eye, and rather than looking just anywhere but at him, she was staring at the ground.

"I'm fine, its nothing...don't worry about it."

Blink furrowed his brow. Contrary to her words, her body language expressed that she was not fine. On one hand he wanted to go sit by her, and put an arm around her, but on the other hand, he wasn't sure if the move would be welcome. She had just revealed her second job--she was a burlesque performer--and Blink was sure that the crowds at such a place weren't as nice as those who came to see Medda. Blink opted for standing up and walking to stand by her side. He tugged on the brim of his hat nervously, an action that was becoming a nervous habit of his, and said mildly, "Hey, you wanna go grab a bite to eat? I wants you to meet someone. Her name's Medda, 'an she's a performa' too. Y'know of her?"

[Bella Harris]

"Isabella, I like it. Well, yer lucky here, I guess, 'cause yer the only Isabella, or Bella, I know."

Bella smiled, her name in Italy wasn't unique at all. It was actually very common, even girls that didn't have the name 'Isabella' were called 'Bella' by their fathers because of what it meant in Italian. She remembered when her parents gave her that nickname before they moved to America. Here, her uncle would call her 'Brutto', because it meant 'ugly' in her first language. "Thank you." She said.

"What's it like? Venice, I mean. 'Ya miss it much?"

She sighed slightly, thinking about how Italy was. "It was amazing, Italy is such a beautiful country. There are many artists there, so every building is like a work of art." She said with a small smile. "Yes, I do miss it." Things were better in Italy, for one there was no Edward. Another reason was that her parents actually paid attention to her.

"Yeah, I'se blind in it. When I was just'a kid, I was in a boys home or something, I'se not really sure, and there was a fight in the bunk room and something shattered and hit me in the eye. The doctor said I'd be blind innit, an' I lost sight in that eye in a month. I became a newsie soon afta' that, though. A'least the patch looks kinda cool, eh?"

Bella nodded sympathetically, she admired his optimism. "I'm sorry to hear that." She said. His optimism inspired her, she had always felt sorry for herself. Maybe this could change things. "Yes it does." She said, agreeing with him on his eyepatch.

"S'nothing wrong with working in a pub, I guess, But, uh, burlesque... performin', You'se don't like it."

She shook her head, "I hate it...I would quit if I could." She said, looking up to meet his eye. "But I can't," Bella hated her job, because it was another remind her of how badly she was treated at home. Her uncle showed no pity when she would come home limping because she refused to have a fling with some drunken, old man. He laughed right in her face, and said she should've and charged two dollars for it.

"Hey, you wanna go grab a bite to eat? I wants you to meet someone. Her name's Medda, 'an she's a performa' too. Y'know of her?"

The corners of her mouth twitched into a smile, she hadn't eaten for a few days; another result from her uncle. "Sure, I would love to." She recognized the name Medda, she performed at Irving Hall and there was a big sign with her on it. "No, I don't know of her. Doesn't she own Irving Hall?" She asked.

[Kid Blink]

"Thank you."

"Yer welcome." Blink smiled. What he had said to Isabella was true. She was the only Bella he knew. Most girls around New York had names like Margaret, Francis, Sarah, Helen, or Anna. But Isabella was special: it had a meaning, and it was someone he knew.

"It was amazing, Italy is such a beautiful country. There are many artists there, so every building is like a work of art."
"Yes, I do miss it."

He tried to imagine what Italy, what Venice, would look like, but all he could picture was dusty cobblestone streets and monotonous brick buildings. Blink shook his head. He wanted to be able to see what she was describing. "That can't be. She said it was beautiful, so it's gots t'look different," he thought. A thought suddenly occurred to him, "Hey Bella, could you paint a picture of Venice? Y'know, from what you'se remember?"

"I'm sorry to hear that."

Blink wasn't quite sure what to say so he settled with a murmured "Thanks." He looked around at the marketplace. People were bustling around them, and at the corner of the street, a short fair-haired woman was purchasing loaves of bread from the bakery. For once, Kid Blink wondered if everything would look different if he had vision in both of his eyes.

"Yes it does." She said, agreeing with him on his eye patch.

Blink grinned. The boys at the lodging house didn't comment on the patch that often, which was fine by him. Like Crutchy, he didn't want to be treated any different just because he had a minor handicap. But he didn't consider his need for a patch to be a handicap. He was as good as a newsie as the next, even though some things did escape his notice if they were on his blind side. But Blink liked the patch because it made him different. He wasn't just any witty Manhattan newsie; he was Kid Blink, Manhattan newsboy, the kid with the patch, and one fourth of the (infamous) group known as the Manhattan Four, more commonly known as the Four Musketeers. Although, the latter was a self-titled name that they really just used between them. So, in reality, they were more commonly referred to as, "You four!," or "Those four!", which would be spat out by a disgruntled victim of a 4M prank, along the lines of, "Where in the wide streets of York are those four?!", or, "You four are so....!" But Bella had agreed that the patch looked cool and he was happy to get her seal of approval.

"I hate it...I would quit if I could...."
"...But I can't...."

Blink looked at her, a frown crossing his face. He hated to see her so miserable. She raised her head to meet his eye, and Blink's frown deepened. He couldn't stand feeling helpless and unable to protect her. He couldn't really tell or ask her to quit her job, could he? He wanted to reach out and comfort her, but wasn't sure if the move would be welcome. And public displays of affection weren't exactly appropriate, were they? At least not between someone of his class and hers. Blink knew class meant a lot to Bella, and sometimes he hated that he couldn't be more of a gentleman. If he were a gentleman, then there would be more that he could do for her. He could take her away from whatever, whomever, was hurting her. Acting on impulse, Blink grabbed her hand gently. "Bella, it's going to be alright. Life can't beat a pretty girl like you forever." Blink stared at her for a moment, then said, "I'm here Bella. When you need someone, you can come to me."

"Sure, I would love to."

Blink grinned, something he had been doing more often lately, since he started seeing Bella. He'd like to think that she was "his girl", but he hadn't formally, or for that matter, even casually, asked her yet. "I'll just ask her today." Blink thought absentmindedly. He took off his hat and offered her a hand to help her to her feet. Today, he could be the best that he could be, as gentlemanly as he could be for her. He glanced back at her painting which appeared to be finished. "It looks really nice. I wouldn't be surprised if someone wanted to buy it," he assured her. "Where would you like to go? We could go to Tibby's, or there's this nice little Italian restaurant in Queens, ah, Renolli's, I think it's called, that Race mentioned the other day."

"No, I don't know of her. Doesn't she own Irving Hall?"

He nodded in response. "Yeah, that's her. We go there for shows every now an' then. Maybe I can introduce ya to her," he paused and considered her for a moment. He really wanted to help her, and more than that, he didn't want to see her hurt anymore. "I'm sure I can convince her to give you a job there if you want. Y'know, so ya wouldn't have t'work at the pub anymore...." Blink trailed off with a hopeful expression on his face. If Bella accepted his offer, it would mean that she could work in a better place, and he'd also get to see her more often. He wasn't quite sure which paid more, a pub or a performance hall, but he hoped that it would be the latter.