(This is a historical fiction story I made for school, in case anyone is wondering.)

Dorothea Dix looked at her young daughter. "Annabelle."

Annabelle Dix looked up from the floor and at her mother, who was attempting to organize her papers. "Yes, mother?"

"I need to know you will conduct yourself with proper decorum, dear."

Annabelle nodded. "I will, mother." "Good."

Annabelle and her mother, Dorothea, were on yet another outing to the Massachusetts East Cambridge Jail, a frightening labyrinth full of screams, slamming doors, and strange mumbling. The jail was kept almost completely dark, with the only light coming from one or two windows. The smells of rotting food and dirt traveled throughout the building. The black paint used on the jail's walls was decaying and peeling off the walls. Annabelle shuddered. She hated going to the jail, even if she wasn't one of the people locked away.

"Miss Dix?"

Dorothea got up from her chair, grabbing her child's hand. "The meeting will begin now." Dorothea nodded. "Come along, Annabelle."

****

"I beg your pardon, Miss Dix, but I do not see your abase for these buffoons!" Dorothea sighed again. "Sir, please, you are imprisoning these people and treating them cruelly for no reasoning other than their mentality differing from yours!" "I demur, Miss Dix." Dorothea groaned. The other man spoke up. "Miss Dix may have a point, sir." The two men began to bicker with each other.

Annabelle tapped her mother's shoulder. "Mother, may I leave?" Dorothea nodded. "You've been very good today, dear. You may take a look around the prison." "Thank you, mother."

****

Annabelle left the meeting and walked through the halls of the prison, seeing many people locked away in cages, all attempting to get out of their cage. She opened the door to one of the prisoners' cells. "He's dead!" The man shrieked. "Who?" Annabelle asked. "Lincoln! There goes the train.." Annabelle closed the door and continued on. The people locked in the cages reached for her, grabbing at her blonde hair and dress and begging for her to set them free. They seemed to believe she was their messiah, an angel who had come to free them. She struggled out of their grasp and quickly ducked down a corner into another hall. At the end of the hallway was a single, partially open door. Annabelle could hear someone sobbing faintly on the other side. I ought to see who that is, and why they are crying, she thought to herself. She was just about to walk through the door when she realized that if anyone caught her, she may end up locked away. She shuddered at the thought. Then she remembered something she'd often heard her mother say: "In proportion as my own discomfort has increased, my conviction of the necessity to search into the wants of the friendless and afflicted has deepened. If I am cold, they too are cold; if I am weary, they are distressed; if I am alone, they are abandoned." If I am alone, they are abandoned.

Annabelle chose to go through the door.

On the other side of the door was a dark, secluded staircase leading to an almost completely darkened room, with nothing inside apart from a small, locked cage. Annabelle could hear sobs emitting from the locked cage, and chose to investigate what they were coming from.

Peeking into the cage, she could see the shape of a small boy, curled in the fetal position, and crying into his hands.

"What's wrong?" She asked the little boy. The boy looked up into her eyes. He was cadaverous, his ribs showing through his dirty skin. His hair was blonde, with dirt laced into it, and his clothes looked like at least five people had worn them before him.

"What's your name?" Annabelle asked the boy. "C-Charles." He stammered. "Why are you crying?"

"H-He hurt me again. I-I don't know why!" Charles wailed, bursting into tears again. "Who?" Annabelle asked. "Who hurt you?" "T-the w-warden." Charles choked out through his sobbing. Annabelle reached her hand into Charles's cage. Charles clutched her hand tightly, not seeming to want to let go of it. "Why are you here?" She asked him. He didn't answer her question, instead laying his head onto her hand and sobbing wildly. A thought struck Annabelle's mind: The people my mother spends so much time helping.... Are they treated like this? I never understood why mother seemed so devoted to them...

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a door slamming.

"He's here!" Charles whimpered. "Who?" "The warden. Hide!" Annabelle quickly hid behind a shelf in the corner and peered at her new friend through her hiding place. She watched as the warden stamped up to her newfound friend's cage with visible anger contorting through his face. "Who were you talking to?!?!?!" The man shrieked angrily. "N-nobody, sir." Her friend stuttered. "Yes you were!" the warden shrieked. Annabelle watched as the warden smacked his hand across Charles's face. She clapped her hand over her mouth to keep from screaming. Why did he do that? "Now who were you talking to?!?!" "I-I was talking to myself, s-sir." The warden gave Charles a look. "If you are caught doing it again, I will make you sorry you were born. Mark my words!" He gave Charles another smack and left the room.

Annabelle was terrified at what she had just witnessed. How could anyone do this? She rushed over to Charles's cage. Charles lay on the cold floor, slap marks all over his face. At that exact moment, Annabelle knew she couldn't allow her new friend to stay in jail. Without thinking, she whipped out two of her hairpins, picked the lock on the cage, and grabbed Charles's wrist. "Come on!"

Tugging Charles behind her, Annabelle dashed through the prison basement, desperately looking for an exit. She could hear a third pair of footsteps following them, but she didn't have time to be afraid. She had to get them both out of the prison. Her legs were starting to get tired, and her heart was beating like a drum. Eventually, she saw a light peeking down the end of a hallway. She dashed up to the door, shoved it open, and ran out of the prison with her new friend. The two of them ducked behind a tree, attempting to catch their breath. Annabelle was amazed. Did I really do that?

****

"Miss Dorothea, I do not understand. Can you please elaborate?" Dorothea was just about to explain once again that those with mental illness should not be treated harshly because of it when the prison warden burst into the room. "One of the boy prisoners escaped with someone! We must catch him!" Dorothea instantly had a feeling that her daughter was in trouble. "Gentlemen, if you could excuse me for a moment?" "Yes, Miss Dix."

Dorothea left the prison and searched outside for her daughter. "Annabelle?"

****

Annabelle and Charles were hiding behind the tree. Charles looked at Annabelle.

"You must be my messiah."

Annabelle smiled at him. All of a sudden, the two of them heard footsteps right behind them. "Annabelle?" asked a familiar voice. "Mother?"

Annabelle and her mother embraced. Dorothea took a look at Charles, and how poorly treated he appeared. "Annabelle, who is this?" "His name is Charles, mother."

Dorothea took each of the children's hands. "Come home."

(If you enjoyed this short story, why not leave a vote and share it with your friends? Also in case your wondering, I got an A grade on this. Follow for more stories, have a great day!)