The wooden plank creaked under the weight of Frank Miller as he stepped off the weather-beaten boat onto the harbor. He looked up at the red-bricked horizon and watched the movement of the bustling New York City. Frank heard the yelling of merchants and the clopping of hooves, along with the clattering of tracks as a streetcar passed by. He opened up his money pouch to find his two months of work in the form of a measly ten bucks. Frank quickly made his way through the town eyeing those around as he walked towards the crowded Mulberry street. He walked fast, ducking and dodging workers trying to get through. Turning the corner and meeting a mostly empty back alley, he took caution. He looked over his shoulders and held his pouch tightly in his pocket. When the coast was clear, he made his way to his tenement. Frank walked up the dusty wooden stairs and reached the door frame for the key. The maze of grimy and leaky pipes on the ceiling, the peeling wallpaper, and a certain heavy mustiness in the air greeted him. The floorboards groaned as Frank made his way towards the back of the small, dimly lit room. It's there he met his brother, Joseph, resting on a battered yellow mattress on the ground. Joseph with his dark, thin-frayed hair, opened his crusty dry eyes. His skin was pale, almost white, and his cheekbones poked through his flakey skin. “Frankie?” he said.

“Didn’t mean to wake ya Jojo.” Frank said, “Where’s Mary-Anne?”

The front door opened as a little girl in a tattered brown dress came in with a cup of water. “Frankie, welcome back. The water stopped working again,” she said.

Mary-Anne brought the cup of water down to Joseph and held his head as she poured the water down his throat. Frank got down and touched Joseph’s forehead.

“Don’t worry it’s from the pump,” she said.

“He’s burning up,” Frank said.

“Is he gonna be okay?” asked Mary-Anne.

“I don’t know,” Frank replied, "Doctor said there’s no cure for tuberculosis.”

Frank took a long look at Mary-Anne and her skinny legs as she put the cup of water on the ground. Frank tousled her hair.

“How are ya? Sorry, I was gone for longer than I said I would be. They offered me more hours and I couldn’t pass it up. Did Bobby come by?”

“It’s okay Frankie. Bobby said we owe for three months. He said it’s gonna be like fifteen dollars!” she said.

Frank's eyes opened wide. “Fifteen for three months? Why does he keep raisin’ the fuckin’ number” he sighed.

“Yeah. Miss Boyle gave me a loaf of bread 2 days ago but that’s all.”

Frank stood up and checked on Joseph. “Alright stay here and watch Jojo,” he said, “I’ll go talk to Bobby and see if I can ask our uncle Tony for some money.”

Frank left the room and walked down the stairs and came to a door on the first floor. He knocked and it swung open. There stood a fat balding man smoking a cigar. The man stared at Frank with indifference before taking a long drag of his cigar and blowing it in his face. “Need yer rent,” he said.

“Bobby, why is it fifteen now? Before it was twelve. I just worked my ass off on that stinkin’ fuckin’ boat for two months tryin’ to get enough. I got two kids I gotta feed Bobby. Where we gonna go if we can’t make rent?”

Bobby stared at him. “You tryna gyp me, boy? It changed. Fifteen by tonight or need you and yer runts outta here by month's end.”

“You can’t do this Bobby,” Frank said before the door slammed shut. Frank left the building and made his way back down Mulberry Street. The stress flooded his mind as he tried to block out the incessant noises of the busy street. Soon taking a turn down Mott Avenue, he came to a tall and slender gray tenement.

Going inside and up the stairs, he found himself at a wooden door. The door looks like it’s been recently changed. Frank raised his hand to knock, but after a moment of hesitation, stopped. He tested the knob and the door slowly opened up. Inside, he watched his large uncle Tony, loudly snoring, passed out on the floor with a couple of empty beers by his side. Frank looked down at him with a revolting look. He glanced at a large drawer by the dining table, then quietly made his way there and opened drawer upon drawer, searching for anything valuable. On top, was an old photograph. Frank noticed Tony and a group of men standing together. Tony had his arm around another man who looked much like himself. Frank stared at the photograph before putting it face down.

“Bastard,” Frank muttered. Eventually, he found a large pouch. He grabbed it and quietly left the room and made his way back to Mulberry.

The market was bustling more than before. As Frank walked down the street he opened the pouch and looked inside. There, was a rolled stack of money along with a watch and two rings. Frank clutched the pouch tightly and made his way past the market. Soon he came to a turn, finding himself in an alleyway near his tenement. The alley was a bit narrow with kids huddled together, sleeping near a barrel. Rows of clothes on a clothesline hung above in between the buildings. He sat down and caught his breath then pulled out his uncle’s pouch just to make sure it was still there.

“Hey mister, whatcha got there?” he heard.

Frank looked up and saw a boy about 15, not too far from his age. The boy stood there with his arms behind his back.

“Whatcha got there mister,” the boy said again.

“Nothing,” Frank said as he stood up.

“Are ya lost, mister?” The boy asked as he stepped closer to Frank.

“No, I’m not. I’ll just be on my way,” he said.

“Hold on now,” the boy said, as he looked to his right. All of a sudden multiple boys, all around the same age though smaller than Frank, start coming out of the woodwork. The boys were carrying an assortment of chains, pipes, and bats. The main boy removed his hand from his back to reveal a switchblade. “Give me the pouch mister, then you can go,” he said.

“No,” Frank said firmly.

“Have it your way mister,” the boy said as the rest of the boys circled in on him. All at once they attacked. He felt every smack from the bat and every whip from the chain. One took a wooden plank and hit Frank in the back, while another took a bat and smashed it into his ankle. The main boy put the knife up to his face and tried to wrestle the pouch out of Frank's hands as other boys held him down. In a moment of panic, Frank managed to get loose. He then got a hold of the knife and plunged it into the boy's neck. The rest of the crew scattered and quickly disappeared into the dark corners of the night. Frank got up, bruised and battered, and stared at the young boy as he gurgled on his own blood. His eyes rolled back and he violently shook in a moment of agony until he stopped. Frank removed the knife from the boy's neck and grabbed the pouch off the ground.

He stumbled down the empty alley and came to a fence leading to the back entrance of the tenement. The door swung open. Mary-Anne peaked her fuzzy haired-head from around the corner and rushed to Frank.

“Frankie what happened to you?” she said. Mary-Anne peaked past Frank and watched the dead boy sprawled across the floor.

“Don’t look Mary-Anne. Here take this.” Frank quickly handed her a dollar. “Go down to Miss Boyle and buy some food. Tell her I send my thanks. How’s Jojo?” Frank asked.

“He’s sleepin’,” she said.

“Alright, go on now,” Frank said. Mary-Anne ran past, eyes wide, looking at the lifeless body on the ground.

When she was gone, Frank made his way towards the boy. He dragged him to an empty corner submerged in the darkness of the night, and covered his face with a nearby sack. Frank walked back past the fence and went upstairs. He called out to Joseph as he entered the room.

“Jojo? Jojo, you gotta wake up. Mary-Anne will be back with some food real soon.” There was no response. Frank made his way to the mattress.

“Jojo?” Frank said with a weak voice. He looked at Jojo and instantly knew he was gone. Frank dropped down on his knees. He struggled to keep the tears in.

“Jojo, I tried. I really did. I was gon’ get some food, then a doctor. We was gon’ go someplace better I swear it. God damn it. This city, it’s poison. N’honest man can’t make no livin’ here. Greedy bastards puttin’ the jump on all the prices. It ain’t right” Frank said.

Just then entered Mary-Anne. Frank looked at her with his teary bloodshot eyes. His look signaled to Mary-Anne that something was wrong. It’s there she stood in the doorway with a brown bag of groceries, staring right at Frank hunched over the yellow mattress.

Dirt piled into the hole at the potter's field. Frankie stood there, hand-in-hand with Mary-Anne. She sobbed as she tossed in the dead flowers she held in her hand.

“You fellers might wanna say your last goodbyes, I’m gonna be here awhile,” said the gravedigger. Joseph's grave was marked with a simple wooden cross. Frank pulled out the old switchblade and carved his and Mary-Anne's initials into the stake.

“I’ll miss you, buddy. I’ll make sure to take care of her,” he said, turning to Mary-Anne, “We’re gonna be okay.”

In the distance, they watched as a train arrived at a nearby station. The train’s horn could be heard, as the chugging of it got increasingly slower until it came to a full stop. Frank stared at the train. He thought of its route and the possibilities found along the way. He imagined good country and beautiful wildlife.

“If I save enough, we can buy a train ticket and move west. I could maybe be a hand on someone’s ranch and you can play with the other girls,” he said.

“Will I get to ride a pony?” Mary-Anne sniffed. Frank smiled. “Yeah, you’ll get to ride a pony, Mary-Anne.

Frank looked up and watched the gleaming sun as it blazed over the horizon. The train blared its horn again and steam billowed gracefully from the chimney, before slowly taking off. Frank and Mary-Anne watched as the steaming locomotive disappeared in the distance only to soon return to that same spot where they would be waiting for it to take them to a promised land.