Chapter Text
The world was cruel. Yes, an overused phrase, but true. At least, true for a 16 year old boy by the name of Israel Hands. Izzy for short. Izzy has been alone for most of his life, and to be honest he wasn’t upset by this. In fact, he was quite content. While yes, his existence was lonely and cold… and dirty, he could imagine some poor kid having it worse. Y’know, some child with scarlet fever begging to see the ‘rose garden’ one last time.
So, he was fine. Nothing wrong with good old Izzy at all. I mean- everyone thinks he’s just a normal… adult…bartender! Nobody will ever-
“You filthy little mongrel,” The Inn-owner- whom Izzy had lied to about his age- chucked the scrawny boy to the floor. “Don’t you understand the type of trouble I could get in for hirin’ someone underage?!” Izzy hadn’t cared to remember his name. Izzy sometimes snuck a drink or two during his shifts.. he must’ve been careless.
“Please, sir-“ The boy began, letting out a shriek of surprise when the Inn-keeper kicked over a pig feeder beside him, covering Izzy in the sludge. “Save it, scrub!” With that, he was gone.
And Izzy was covered in shit. Shit and pig food he supposed. Izzy grimaced. “Twat..” he mumbled under his breath, slowly moving to stand. His nose twitched in disgust. He shook himself off the best he could, before starting the trek back to his little alley he called home.
Listen. British towns are cruel. Especially in these dark times. You couldn’t trust anyone, and Izzy knew this.
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Israel “Iz” Hands was an explorer. That’s what his Mother always told him. He would be allowed to run free of her careful watch to fight pirates and win over fair maidens. It would be glorious.
And that’s what he was doing today. Exploring. Izzy’s Mum said to be back for dinner, but dinner could be from dark to almost morning light. He didn’t mind. The young boy was walking down the street, face pressing into some old, ratty parchment paper with smudged lines- a ‘map’.
He toppled over after a few minutes of examining his map.
“Are you alright?” The man asked, taking Izzy’s small hand and pulling him up. Izzy- who was small, and light- was pulled up rather quickly. “I’m fine-“ he said warily. The man tutted, examining the younger boy.
“Would you like to come back to mine? You’ve got a few scrapes, kid.” The man smiled, he seemed friendly.
His Mum had told him to be careful. But she’d forgotten one little detail.
Eagerly, Izzy replies. “Okay!” He showed his best, brightest smile. “Lovely,” The man seemed happier than he did, offering his hand.
To cut a story short, Izzy came home to his Mother that night, bruised and broken. That was his first lesson. Nobody has good intentions. ——————————————————— Izzy’s home wasn’t horrible. It was his. A cramped alleyway, all for himself! Sure, the floor was dirty and muddy, but he had stolen scraps of fabric to put on the floor. Plus, he had the rats. They never wronged him like everyone else.
He slowly sat against the wall, holding his knees to his chest. It was a cold night tonight, colder than usual, which meant Izzy would have to brave the elements, seeing as he’d not be given any money to buy candles anymore (yes, he used them for warmth sometimes, and yes, it was a stupid idea).
Izzy closed his eyes, letting out a shuddering breath. He blindly patted the floor, searching for his little piece of jagged metal. A ‘knife’. Izzy grasped it, cutting his finger in the process.
The 16 year old fell asleep a few minutes after.