They throw the "untouchables" into the asylum. "It's an act of charity," the authorities gaslighted us. Like the rest of the New Yorkers in the mid-1800s, I believed them until I visited the asylum myself. There I ascertained the truth.
Reverend Boyle's proposition worried me. "Caroline, your mother said you are looking to afford charity work."
The wetness from my feet irritated me in my lumpish boots yet I resisted the unladylike urge to scratch them. I didn't desire to administer charity work. That was Mother's forceful hand in my life. But I couldn't share my reservations with the reverend.
"Yes, Reverend Boyle." I couldn't look him in the eyes. Maybe he would see my lie.
"We have such the opportunity. Every year, Blackwell's Island throws a ball for the asylum. It is a grand event for the people there. They look forward to it all year. It helps lift the morale of the asylum, and they need that."
The hairs on my arm stood beneath my wool shawl. "You want me to volunteer at Damnation Island?" No sooner had I said the words than I longed to take them back.
Reverend Boyle's face clouded as his eye narrowed. "The place is called Blackwell's Island, Lassie."
I looked down at the floor, no longer able to hide my concern.
"God loves all his children, Caroline. Even those in the asylum."
"Yes, sir, I mean Reverend."
I tried to open my heart to the opportunity but couldn't. The day of the ball came. I happened into the kitchen to find Uncle Ralph with Mother.
"Ralph, I do not need to hear about your smuggling ring. I will not permit that type of talk in my home. What if Caroline were to hear you?"
"Hear what?" I asked.
My uncle, a skilamalink, suspiciously eyed me.
Mother looked up and blushed. Uncle Ralph winked at me. I didn't much like him there, for I didn't trust him.
"Nothing Caroline." To change the subject, Mother asked, "Why are you wearing the round gown? You look so much better in your empire waist dress. Plus, I can tell you aren't wearing your corset. Darling, you are going to a ball. You must look the part."
Uncle Ralph eyed me up and down, which made my skin burn from his undesired gaze. "You said she is going to Damnation Island. Why, sister, I believe she is overdressed."
At least Ralph sided with me.
I defied Mother and kept the round gown on. I did not wish to look pretty at a lunatic ball. When I joined my chuckaboos, Isabella and Margaret, I felt out of place. They wore their most excellent dresses.
Good. Let them receive all the attention.
My apprehension intensified as the half-rats moved closer to us at the dock—those drunk men eyed us with lustful eyes.
Will the ferry ever come?
"Look at the jammiest bits of jam," a drunkard referenced to us ladies.
I had worried about my safety on Damnation Island, yet I feared for my virtue on the dock waiting for the ferry.
How did I get myself into this quagmire?
Finally, we loaded the ferry to take us to the island. For a moment, I felt safe as the ferry pulled away. I shivered. Was it to the cold or my nerves? Perhaps the insane were scarier than the vagrant men. Margaret and Isabella seemed equally nervous as we hunkered together.
Why had I ever come here?
As we walked into the asylum, the stench of death and excrement greeted us. I pulled my shawl tightly around me to armor me from the place.
"Help me, help me, help me," a man groaned in the distance while a low moaning that sounded like a monster joined in. "Ohh, ohh, ohh."
Isabella, ever the optimist, grabbed my arm. "At least we will have a chance to practice the Walz and the Two-step here."
I didn't want to Walz with anyone who moaned like the man in the background. I fancied running away. The sour smell, frightful noises, and dim lights filled me with trepidation.
"I plan to tripping the light fantastic toe," Isabella smiled, yet the smile looked sewn on her face and not genuine.
We entered the space and saw a cohort of undesirables having merriment of a time. A few other youths dressed like us were among the crowd, probably forced there by their mothers.
I never saw such gayness and abandonment of social norms as the people flung their bodies around the room. I would stay composed as a lady. My first dance, the Walz, I did with Isabella. Margaret must have felt left out as she wrapped her arms around her chest. Soon, an asylum girl whisked Margaret away. I am sure she felt more relief dancing with a young girl than with one of the island's dizzy age.
When we finished, an older man in threadbare clothes grabbed Isabella. Her eyes screamed for me to save her. I abandoned my duties as a friend as I did nothing. No sooner had she left than I wished I had kept her with me because an old lady clutched onto me.
I don't know what her body did, but it wasn't any dance I knew. The lady's urine odor stung my eyes, and they watered to the assault. We danced, if that were what one would call it, to the beautiful sounds of a violin. One of the inmates played the lovely instrument. -How I envied his skill in music-making.
When that dance finished, an emaciated man took my arms. We sort of Waltzed, but not really. His scraggly beard kept scratching my face.
I want to go home.
I didn't care what punishment Mother or Reverend Boyle would afflict upon me; I would never return to the island again. I couldn't escape the holds of the man, dancing one song after another. I believe we were on our fifth dance when a handsome young man cut in.
"May I?" He asked.
The older man gripped me tighter. "No. She is my dance partner tonight." A whimper escaped me.
I wiggled free of him and turned into the arms of the handsome young man.
"Thank you for saving me," I said.
His smile made my head lighten. He had deep brown eyes, and he led me in the Two-step.
"My name is William."
"William, I am Caroline. Do you volunteer here often?"
William closed his eyes and turned his head away. "No. I live here."
I jerked and then realized he wore the clothes of a pauper. His beauty had lost my senses, and I hadn't noticed his attire.
"Oh, I am sorry. You don't seem…" I stopped myself before I said crazy. I searched my mind for a better way to say it. "You seem different than the others."
"I am different. I don't belong here."
I overstepped my place when I boldly asked, "Then why are you here?"
"Six months ago, I started having seizures. They sent me here when the priest couldn't exorcist the devil from me."
"Do you have hallucinations?"
"No. I am every bit as normal as you. I randomly have seizures, but not often. That is why they locked me in here."
His brown eyes conveyed the sorrow he must have felt. Poor William. I couldn't imagine living among the people there. It would be utterly dreadful.
"How old are you?" I asked.
"Sixteen, almost seventeen."
"Ah, I am seventeen."
I danced with William for the rest of the night. Somehow being in his presence transformed the gloom of the place into one of magic.
"Before they sent me here, I had apprenticed with my father. He is a doctor, and I have assisted him for the entirety of my life. He had planned for me to be a doctor. It is sad how quickly he abandoned me when my seizures started."
I prided my fortune in dancing with an almost doctor.
The night ended with the paper lanterns. Their illumination of moving light flickered around us, and everyone settled to observe the show. When I first arrived at the asylum, the night couldn't end soon enough, but I never wanted it to end as William and I parted ways.
Isabella and Margaret were solemn on the ferry ride. The night had grown colder, and we huddled together. They looked as if they had been mistreated and would never be the same again. I concealed the smile that desperately tried to sneak on my face.
I returned to life, but my thoughts remained on the island. All I could think about was William.
I tried to convince myself to seize thinking about him. What are you doing, Caroline? It will never work. Besides, it is mad to love a lunatic. But I couldn't stop it. I had communed with William's soul. I must see William again, or I would go mad.
Although unwise, I approached the reverend at church. "Reverend Boyle, I felt something in my service on the island."
He looked at me, and his eyes softened. "Ah yes, you were touched by the spirit of service."
Or love.
"Can I serve there again?"
"Yes, of course. Next year you can return to the ball."
I pulled at the corset under my dress. I struggled to get in full breaths of air with its constriction. "No. I mean, yes. But can I do something before then?'
He gave me a blank stare.
"I just can't stop thinking about all those abandoned souls, hungry for attention. Can I do service weekly?"
"I can't think of anything there for you to do. But thank you, Caroline. Maybe we can find service here in the community for you."
I mustered up my defiance. "That is all good, Reverend, but I want to serve the unfortunates of Blackwell's Island."
"Hmm," he said.
"Do you think maybe I could go there and read the Bible to them?"
His eyes lighted up. "Why yes, that sounds like a noble act of service." I seemed to have ingratiated myself with him. -little did he know my true intentions. Would God send me to Hell for lying to the reverend? I rubbed my sweaty hands on the side of my dress.
Reverend Boyle arranged for me to serve once a month. It didn't seem like enough opportunities, but I had to accept it. As I prepared to return to the island, I put on my corset and donned the empire waist dress. This time, I dressed my best.
As I entered the asylum accompanied by a couple of missionaries, I dreaded returning to the place. Crazy people ran around, howling or talking to themselves. One man repeatedly screamed as he banged his head into a wall.
What was I thinking? What if I don't even see Wiliam? What if William really is a crazy, and he was lying to me?
"We will gather a group for you to read to," a missionary said.
I sat on a backless chair in the sitting area, the hardness grinding into my spine as the workers gathered twelve men around me.
"Um, hello. My name is Caroline, and I have come to read the Bible to you." I couldn't stop my voice from quivering. Some people stared at me, while others didn't seem to know where they were. My soul dampened when I realized William wasn't going to be there. I wanted to send the missionary looking for him but thought better.
"What book would you like me to read out of?" I asked.
"How about a Tale of Two Cities," someone shouted.
"Oh, um, yes. A good book indeed. I apologize, though. Today, I am reading from the Bible. What book would you like me to read out of?"
No one answered.
"Um, okay. How about Judges?" No one responded. "Verse 1: And the children of Israel did evil in the sight of the Lord: and the Lord delivered them into the hand of Midian seven years."
A man stood up and screamed, "You took it from me. You didn't eat the cabbage. The door opens now."
At first, I thought he was yelling at me, but then I realized it was at no one.
My voice shook in my throat. I continued. "Verse 2: And the hand of Midian prevailed against Israel:"
I struggled to read to the group. Only two people seemed to listen. The others moved around, and some even shouted or cried.
What a stupid idea this is.
During my reading, several residents of the asylum came and went. Halfway through my allotted time, I noticed William walk into the area. It was all I could do not to jump up and run to him. When I saw him, I realized my memory had failed me. He looked more magnificent appearing than I remembered, despite his slovenly clothing.
William looked over at me, and we locked eyes. An electric bolt passed between us. I smiled at him, and instead of returning it, he turned and ran.
Instantly tears came out of my eyes. The darkness of the room entered my soul. My fingers found a loose string on my shawl, and I picked at it.
"Why did you stop reading?" A man asked.
"Um, sorry," I said as I returned the Bible. "And the Lord said unto Gideon, the people that are with thee…"
The man interrupted me. "You already read that part. You are on verse six."
I wiped the tears from my face. "Oh yes, thank you. Verse 6: And the number of them that lapped…"
I read for twenty minutes more, my mind not on any words.
I am so stupid. I will never come here again.
One of the missionaries strolled over. "Finish the chapter, and then it is time to go."
As I came to the last two verses, William returned. My heart fluttered. He sat in the empty chair closest to me. Despite the cold room, my body heated.
"34: And the children of Israel remembered not the Lord their God, who had delivered them out of the hands of all their enemies on every side:"
William looked around the room, then slipped a wad of papers under the Bible.
They burned in my lap as I finished the chapter.
I wanted to speak with William, but a worker escorted all the residents away.
What did he give me?
What does it say?
If you look at it now, it will get confiscated.
I slipped it into my dress.
We left the safety of the ferry and went out onto the dock. A couple of beggars approached us.
"Alms for the poor."
The missionary put his body between mine and the drunk and said, "I am but a poor missionary myself." I feared the men would rob us, but they wandered away.
When I got home, joy radiated in me to find the place empty. I sat on my bed and opened Williams's pile of papers.
The top one said, Read first.
Dearest Caroline,
I cannot convey my delight when I saw you here reading the Bible. I never thought I would see you again. You are a holy angel of God to serve us as you do.
Guilt entered me since I was no angel. I had gone to the asylum for the first time by force. The second time was self-serving. Would God punish me? I continued reading.
You changed my life when I met you at the ball. You reminded me what it was like to feel normal. Caroline, I am normal.
How disappointing. I had hoped he would proclaim his dying love to me. I read on.
I have to admit. I cannot stop thinking about you.
My hands tingled.
I have never met anyone like you before, Caroline. You are an exceptional lady, and seeing you here serving us again proves that.
-Again, guilt entered me at the deception I had caused.
I have to admit that I have been writing you letters every day since we met. I never thought I would see you again. In my letters, I felt compelled to tell you my story. You can imagine my adulation when I saw you today. I am hesitant to hand you my writings, but I must. I need you to see me for the man I am, not for the crazy others see me as. I don't know if I will ever see you again, but just know that I love you.
He loved me!
I sorted through his writings by date.
November 6, 1865. Dear Caroline. I came into your acquaintance today, but before that, I had devised plans to end my life tomorrow. I apologize for my unconventional words. But you do not know what this place does to a soul.
I could imagine.
When I saw you enter the ball, it was as if God had sent an angel to deliver me. Your beauty pushed out all thoughts of ending my life. It took me a great deal of courage to ask you to dance. I felt shame, for I knew you would see me as a crazy. But, Caroline, I am not. I don't belong here. I was going to be a doctor. I was going to get married and have a family. Now, this is the place I will die in…
A deep sorrow filled me as I read his words. William was the most beautiful man I had ever seen. My heart ached for what he was sharing. How would I feel locked up on Damnation Island?
I would have to imagine Hell as more hospitable than this place. They hardly feed us, and what they do is tainted and moldy. I can barely ingest my meals but must out of starvation. Whenever I seizure, they punish me by putting me in the crib. It is a torture device like a caged coffin. If that was all they did to me, then I couldn't complain. They have wrapped me tightly in wet sheets where I have frozen for the night. They have given me horrific enemas. There is no heat in this place. The bathing practices are abhorrent. We are all forced to share the same bathwater. By the time it is my turn, the water is brown with excrement and the shedding of other people's bodies. As a doctor in training, I can tell you this is the quickest way to spread disease. I have had rashes and boils appear following baths. Chloromorphide and morphine are used to silence many of the patients. Thankfully, they have never used it on me. Another practice implemented here is called the health lift. Workers will lift a crazy above their heads, then slam him to the ground. I have seen many healthy people enter the doors and die within weeks from the ill-treatment they receive here. There is nothing provided for us to challenge our minds. No books. Nothings. Just long days of cruel treatment. Another repulsive practice here is they employ prisoners to care for us. You can imagine the ill-treatment we receive from the lowest form of society. I have seen girls assaulted by these prisoners…
Ruination entered my room and heart. William's words stirred me, and I could hardly stand to read his writings, yet I couldn't put them down.
I clung to his more upbeat writings.
Caroline, if I were to marry you, I would treat you like a queen. As a doctor, you wouldn't have to want for anything. I would give you as many babies as you desired, and I possess the knowledge to keep them vital.
I clutched his words to my chest.
I longed to be William's angel. I needed to rescue him from his Hell. I desired to be his wife. But how could any of that be?
I had to wait a whole month to return to Blackwell's Island. On my return, I couldn't stop shaking. That was normal, but my secret letter to William made it impossible to steady my nerves.
Like the Bible reading before, I sat surrounded by the residents. Again, I didn’t see William and hoped he would show up.
"Um, last time I read in Judges. This time I will read in First Samuel, Verse 1. Now there was a certain man of aRamathaim-zophim." That was a mouthful, and I know I said it wrong. I looked at my audience, and no one cared.
As I read, William indeed made a presence. Again, I wanted to run to him. This time to embrace him and balm his soul. How could someone normal be forced to endure the hell of the island? Unfortunately, people occupied the seats next to me.
How will I ever get my letter to William?
Eventually, the man closest to me got up and left. William immediately stood and went toward the chair, but so did a gross-looking man. The man pushed William onto the floor as he took the seat. I despised that harsh man. That seat was for William. Dejected, William returned to his seat. Thankfully, the mean man lost interest and left the room. William leaped into the empty seat so fast that one would have thought his previous chair was on fire.
We exchanged a lingering glance, and both smiled at each other.
I love you. I love you. I love you. I wanted to speak my heart out loud but couldn't.
As I continued to read, William found the opportunity to slip a pile of papers under my Bible. It seemed like an eternity, but I found a chance to sneak him my writings. My spirit soared at the exchange, and my heart raced wildly at the prospect of getting caught.
When I returned to my empty home, I sat on the bed. I imagined William reading my words.
Dearest William. Thank you for sharing your words with me. That was a brave thing you did. I can imagine the fear that came from opening your heart to me. I want you to know that your words are safe with me.
I imagined William's joy when I expressed my love to him. I wondered how he would react when he read my words, And I will do everything in my power to help you escape Damnation Island.
Did they feel empty to him, or did I give William false hope? How do you smuggle someone out of Damnation Island?
Then I had an idea.
I almost went into hysterics as I waited to present my plan to the only person who might help me. As I worked on my embroidery, a knock came on the door.
I took two long breaths and opened the door. Uncle Ralph stood on the other side. "Is your mother Lucinda here?"
I shuffled. "No, but come in."
Uncle Ralph's irritation immediately elevated his voice. "Why would she send for me then not be here? I left important work because she said it was emergent. You tell that mother of yours that-" I looked down. "I called you here," I said. My hands scrunched the pillowcase I had been doing needlework on.
Uncle Ralph flashed a look of bewilderment on his face. "Why would you do such a thing?"
I looked out the door, expecting to see an informant there.
"Please come in, and I will explain."
"I have strict instructions not to enter your home without your parents here."
"Please, Uncle Ralph, this is of utmost importance."
Now it was Uncle Ralph's turn to glance around as if searching for the same informants. I felt dubious about my plan.
He shuffled in but stayed by the front door.
"What is going on, Caroline? What type of trouble did you get yourself into?"
"Oh, I am not in trouble." I looked away because what I had to ask took stoic courage. "I just need your assistance."
Uncle Ralph put his hands behind his back. "What help do you require me?"
It took a minute to get the words out of my mouth. "Well, you see, there is a great injustice on Damnation Island, and I need your help to rectify it."
"Oh, dear niece, you must be mistaken about my character. I am no mercenary.” He tilted his hat forward, and a sly grin appeared.
"Yes, I know. That is why you are the only person that can help me."
"Go on."
"Well, you see, there is this boy. There is this prisoner in the asylum who is not crazy. He has been locked up as a prisoner merely to the fact that he at times seizures." I rocked back and forth on my heels. My feet marinated in my sweat.
"And what is he to me?"
"I need you to help him escape."
Uncle Ralph blew the air out of his lungs, and his foul breath blew across my face. I tried not to react. He adjusted his hat again.
"Let me get this straight. You want me to smuggle a crazy out of the insane asylum?"
"He is not crazy."
"Sure."
My voice elevated. "He is not."
"Watch your tone."
"Sorry."
"I am sorry. I cannot be part of this. In fact, as your uncle, it is my duty to report this scheme to your mother."
My head went light as I stumbled into him. "Oh, Uncle, please don't. Please, read these letters to see what he has been through." I handed him William's writings bundled in a chord. A few of the more intimate ones I had left out.
Uncle Ralph read the letters and would click his tongue, or look at me, shake his head, and laugh.
"Oh, Caroline, you are in love with a madman." He returned William's writings.
"Surely you could reason the state of his mind from his writings," I said, trying to control my temper. "Please!"
"Oh my, Caroline. You want me to free your insane lover. How scandalous."
I looked away as heat scorched my cheeks.
"How do you know this man is not insane?"
I couldn't look him in the eyes. "I just know it."
"Says many women previous to you who have been duped by their heart."
Silence lingered around us like the bad air of Damnation Island.
"Will you help me?"
"You are asking me to commit the biggest betrayal on my sister. -to put her only daughter in a criminal situation. I cannot do that."
"I will give you half of my dowery."
Uncle Ralph studied me. I squirmed in my constricting corset.
"Let me see your dowery."
He followed me into my room, which broke the house rules. We had to be quick in case Mother or Father came home.
I opened my cedar chest and pulled out my heirloom jewels.
I saw the greed flash across Uncle Ralph's face. "Oh my, that is a fine collection indeed." He scratched his chin, then sifted his hand threw the jewels.
"Here is the deal," he said. "What you ask comes with a heft consequence if I get caught. So, I will do it for the entirety of your collection."
You are so greedy.
I didn't want to give him everything. "Half is what I offered."
"Then no," he said as he walked toward the door.
"Fine. Seventy-five percent. I need at least a few items to secure my new life."
Uncle Ralph turned back to me. "Deal," he said as he picked out my finest pieces.
Finally, the day to return to the island came. It felt like I carried a boulder as I stepped into the asylum. The weight of my writings to William weighed me down. What if someone discovered them on me?
Uncle Ralph had warned, "If anyone finds this on you, they will arrest you, and you will become a prisoner on Damnation Island."
Even though I had repeatedly tried to talk myself out of the plan, I had to risk it. I couldn't leave William in the clutches of Hell.
I sat like normal in the sitting room and read the Bible to the crowd of men. My voice betrayed my fear, and I expected someone to search me at any moment, but they didn't.
Once again, William sat far from me. How could we exchange writings with such a chasm between us? Finally, when I had finished, I wanted to cry. I had not exchanged papers with William.
"Time to move out," the workers said. I needed to get William my writings. As they shuffled William away from me, he suddenly stumbled and fell backward. As he rose, he fell straight into me. I felt his writings thrust into my hands. My nerves flared. Everyone watched his theatrics. Should I give him my writings? What if someone sees the exchange? As a worker pulled William off me, I knew I had only this chance. I sneaked my letters into William’s waistband.
Poor William, they beat him right there in front of me.
"You never assault a lady like that," they scolded.
"It's okay. I am fine," I said.
Using a broom handle, they ignored me and bashed it into his head. I wanted to rip the broom out of their hands and save William, but I could do nothing. One of the missionaries came to my side and escorted me away.
"Are you okay?" He asked as we got onto the ferry. "I hope that incident didn't scar you and that you will return."
"I am fine," I said, choking back the tears. Everything inside me ached for William. His rescue would not come soon enough.
"We will make sure that man is locked up next time you return."
"Oh no, please don't. He is a soul unto God. I must balm his soul with my words. He didn't mean to fall into me."
"It was deliberate."
"Please, let God judge him, not us."
I hoped William would get to read the writings and the staff would not discover them. I had included written detailed instructions from Uncle Ralph about the escape. William was to follow through on them during my next Bible reading.
The following time at church, Reverend Boyle approached me.
"Caroline, I heard about the incident at the asylum. I do not believe it was wise to send you there. I have found a better place for you to serve."
"No!" I shouted, then lowered my tone. "I am sorry, Reverend. You cannot take my assignment from me."
"Caroline, it is not safe for a woman there among crazy men like that. I should have used better judgment."
Dear God, please do not strike me down for the lie I am about to tell. "Reverend, God made it known to me that this is my call. He will protect me as I do his work."
Oh, please forgive me, God.
"Here on earth, it is my job to protect you. I cannot let you return."
Tears filled my eyes. "Please, Reverend, I must return."
Reverend Boyle stared at me. He must have taken my tears as a spiritual manifestation, for he said, "I worry for you. But, if you feel this is your work, I will allow you another chance. But, if anything like this ever happens again, you must understand your work cannot continue there."
I jumped into the Reverend's arms and hugged him, unbecoming of a lady. He stiffened in my embrace. “That will do,” he said, pulling me off.
"Thank you, thank you," I replied.
The month almost reached a standstill as I waited to return to the asylum. I packed and repacked the bags I would send with Uncle Ralph.
On the day of my departure, I couldn't help crying at every little thing.
"What is with you today, Caroline?" Mother stroked my hair. "You seem to have the hysterics."
"I am sorry, Mother."
"Maybe you should cancel your charity work today. I do not believe you are up to it."
"No, Mother, I must go."
I gave Mother a long hug as I left the house for the last time.
As we waited for the ferry, I could scarcely breathe. A tardy ferry could make me late signaling William it was time to follow Uncle Ralph's plan. The frigid air chilled my bones, the day feeling colder than usual. The loiters around the dock seemed to be in collies shangles, quarreling amongst themselves. At least they didn't have their attention on us.
Will the ferry ever arrive?
Finally, the ferry transported us to the island. Once again, safe from the vagrants at the dock but thrust into the den of the mentally unstable.
In the asylum room, I kept watching for William. I never saw him. Did he know I was there? Had they locked him up to keep him from falling into me again? It would be awful if they locked him up, and he would never escape. If he knew I was there, he could start the escape. But I don’t think he knows.
My mood darkened by the time I left.
William didn't even know I was there. He will remain a prisoner on the island.
Uncle Ralph had warned me that he would only help this one time. If it failed, then too bad. He would keep the dowery regardless of the outcome.
Justice would never prevail for William.
Two masked men approached us as the missionary, and I stepped off the ferry.
"Give us all your money," they said, holding a knife.
"I am but a humble missionary," the missionary said. "I have nothing to give."
I clung to the missionary and tried to hide behind him. The prominent men turned to me.
"In that case, we will take the girl."
"No!" I screamed. Maybe the Reverend had been right. I shouldn't have come.
The missionary tried to fight the men, but his small frame did nothing against the burly men. One man lifted me over his shoulder.
"Help me! Help me!" I screamed, hoping someone would hear and save me. There was no one around on the dock. I tried to punch my assailant but could do nothing to bring him pain. The men dumped me in a carriage, and after covering my face with a cloth, we rode off.
After the most terrifying ride of my life, the carriage stopped. The men removed the cloth from my face, and one of the robbers opened the door.
"You are free to get out," he said.
Although fearful in the carriage, I panicked at what awaited me outside it. When I didn't move, the man picked me up and took me out. We were in an industrial part of New York. Were they going to force me into prostitution?
"Caroline," I heard. Out of the shadows, Uncle Ralph appeared. I flung myself into his arms and bawled.
He handed the two men money, and they rode away in the carriage.
"This was your doing?" I asked.
"I had to stage a kidnapping for you. This is the best way for your disappearance."
"I practically died from fright. Why did you not tell me?"
"It had to look genuine. If you knew about it, you might not have reacted with the right amount of fear."
"They beat up the missionary," I said. I surely will go to Hell now.
"Do you want your escape or not?"
I looked around the lot. I didn't see anyone but us.
"Did William get out?" I could hardly ask, just in case the answer was no.
"Come with me," Uncle Ralph said, avoiding answering my question. I knew his news would break my heart. William probably had been locked in his room and didn't have a chance to escape. Or perhaps the workers at the asylum had discovered the writings and laid a trap for him. I pulled my shawl tighter around me. We had walked for at least a mile when we came to a different carriage.
"Get in, and I will explain what happened," Uncle Ralph said. Tears slipped out of my eyes. William hadn't made it.
As I climbed in, another thug sat in the carriage.
"Why more theatrics?" I whined. I didn't want any more encounters with dangerous men.
As I sat down, the thug removed his mask.
"William," I shouted.
William embraced me and gave me a beautiful kiss. Eternal joy passed between us.
"Good luck, Caroline," Uncle Ralph said, sticking his head into the carriage. "And remember our deal. If you two get apprehended, you will NEVER MENTION I helped you."
I flung myself at Uncle Ralph, hugged him, and kissed his cheek.
"Thank you, thank you."
William pulled me into him. The rocks underneath the carriage crunched while we pulled away.
And like that, my whole life changed as I rode into my new life with William at my side.
-He, a free man.
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Lunatic Ball
by Stephanie Daich
