Page 38 of The Fighter who Needed Me
He never had much in the way of possessions, and he had not complained. It was not like they had much money to begin with and so as a child, he was content to have the very little they did.
But he felt rich as a king after finding Burk and Flordelize on the streets and becoming friends.
He finally had a friend. His first one. And had someone else to call mother. Amelie and Flordelize had come together to raise the children that they loved and he knew that his mother had struggled a lot before their arrival and had done all she could to shield him from the evil of the world, but he knew.
Even at a young age he knew there were bad men, bad women and evil that tainted the streets where they lived like it had been painted into the stone.
He could sense it and he wanted his mother to know that he could handle it.
And he had. At first. He had done well, but after Flordelize’s death, he realized he knew nothing of evil.
Knew nothing of the pain that men could inflict on another. Not until he saw it first-hand. And his small sheltered world that he knew was gone forever.
His mother had gotten sick soon after that, and he never truly knew why she died like she had until after her death.
Seeing the cuts on her skin, and the puss oozing from the wounds that could not have been fixed was something he would never forget.
Neither would he forget the smell. He and Burk had both lost the contents of their stomachs that day when Amelie’s body had been moved to be buried.
The men who had taken her must have had iron stomachs. They did not bat one eyelash at the smell, nor did they care.
But seeing that his mother had truly suffered in silence so as to not upset them with how badly she was injured was something Brooks would never forget.
He thought she had some illness. Those were rampant in the streets of Whitechapel where there was never enough water and never enough food to get by, so sickness spread like wildfire here.
But in his sheltered mind, and with knowing about the diseases that were always known through the Chapel, never once did he think she was injured that way. And he longed to know what happened to her.
For years after her death he searched for answers that never came.
No one would talk about her death in the Chapel. No one cared that just another prostitute had died, and it did not matter to the men or women here.
And he hated that. But he was too busy with trying to survive on the streets to find out more and once again, a prostitute dying of mysterious circumstances was not even something anyone cared about. Aside from himself.
Burk also wanted to know about his own mother and why she had been so brutally murdered the way she had, but their survival was the most important thing and what they needed to focus on.
And when they grew wealthy and Brooks was able to ask questions, no one cared nor remembered his good and kind mother.
Women like that were many and she was of no importance to anyone, aside from himself and Burk.
So, his small investigation had come to a close and he had let it go, hating it, but accepting it. It was the only way to move forward.
He had only found out the truth of her death after Burk had been taken.
That was hard for Brooks to hear. But he had Persephone then to help him through. And now? He had nothing and no one.
Burk had Lily and Brooks was happy for them. Or he wanted to be anyway.
He shut his eyes and took a few deep breaths. He needed to stop.
This needed to stop. He needed to find her, or he would go insane. Tomorrow, he would send Anneliese another letter.
She had to know something. Anything. Some tiny inkling of their whereabouts.
He knew she did not know, but damn it, he had to try.
Keeping his eyes shut he thought of the woman he loved. He kept her face in his mind and fell into a troubled sleep.
