|Friends Close, Enemies Closer
Author: RoseDelion PM
Evangeline is the sister of Amsterdam. They want revenge on Bill for murdering their father years ago. Bill has an interest in Amsterdam, but his eyes are set on Evangeline. How far will she go for her brother and revenge? Bill/OCRated: Fiction T - English - Hurt/Comfort/Romance - Words: 808 - Reviews: 10 - Favs: 8 - Follows: 11 - Published: 06-03-10 - id: 6022899
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Hey all! So I decided that Gangs Of New York is such a fantastic movie, I should write a story about it. So please lemme know what you all think and if I should continue.
I do not own Gangs Of New York, the movie or book. I do own Evangeline.
The year was 1863. My brother Amsterdam and I want revenge. Want revenge on the bloody bastard that killed our father. Bill.
Vague memories sweep my mind at night. I was younger than my brother, only remembering bits and pieces of my past. One memory will forever haunt my memories. The day Bill murdered my father, and my brother and I saw it.
Of course, Bill ordered Amsterdam and I to be 'locked up' for educational purposes. Women were not allowed to be educated, but my brother educated me still. Teaching me what father taught him, and what others have taught him.
I stood waiting near the prison like state where my brother was at. He was being released today. I began pacing, wondering out loud to myself. How on earth are we going to get our revenge against Bill? I've heard rumors that he is a feared man, but was it true?
Father always told me, "Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer." His words rang in my mind everyday.
"Evangeline!" My brother ran to me with open arms. I was to busy having an argument mentally with myself to notice my brother walking out.
"Amsterdam!" I replied happily, hugging him tighter. His body warmth protected me against the bitter cold sweeping my body.
Amsterdam pulled away from me, eyeing me from head to toe. He looked amazingly like father. Same sparkling blue eyes, soft brown hair, and his tall height. I'd never forget my brother's face.
Only about one or twice a month I was lucky to see my brother. He looked skinny, too skinny for my liking.
I'd managed to work as a maid in the richer part of New York. I was allowed to live on the property, with three proper meals a day, and was welcomed with nice warm sheets at night. The same could not be said about my brother.
"Ready?" Amsterdam's voice broke my concentration; he nodded his head at my unanswered reply.
I nodded slowly, knowing worry took hold of my face. I lowered my face, suddenly finding my shoes the most interesting thing in the world. A finger, pressed gently against my chin, pressing it in an upward motion.
Amsterdam lowered his head, staring hard in my eyes, making my shuddered slightly. Amsterdam pressed his lips gently to my forehead, as if brushing away my worries and fears.
Amsterdam suddenly, started laughing. Embarrassment took over my face, which felt burning hot.
"What?" I barked, stepping angrily away from my brother. Amsterdam let his hand glide over my hair, picking up a large piece.
"You still have that large damn piece of blonde in your hair!" Amsterdam laughing at me was driving me crazy!
Ever since I was little, I was always teased by my brother. My hair was a light brown, having a large chunk of blonde in the front of my face on the right side. I was always trying to pin it up, so it would be less noticeable, but no. My brother always made fun of me for it, while my father said I have my mother's hair.
"Oh shut it! Let's get going." I said, slapping his hand away from my face. I raced to walk in front of my brother, letting the cold wind hit my embarrassed face.
Amsterdam's laughing became silent, which I was grateful for. Hearing a small splash, I eagerly turned around.
Amsterdam was leaning, looking down at the dark water. On top of the water, was a floating bible. My brother had just thrown a bible in the water!
"What are you doing?" I yelled rushing towards him. His face was emotionless. Our father was a priest, faith to me was important. Apparently, to Amsterdam it was not.
We descended down the ships and walked onto the awaiting docks. It smelled horrible, rotten meat, bodies, and God knows what else. Many immigrants flooded the docks, eagerly rushing into the busy streets of New York.
I held my brother's hand tightly, afraid I'd lose him again. He clung to me also.
Some of the native's were throwing rocks at the new people, even hitting one woman in the face. I had to bite my tongue in order not to scream at the man.
Amsterdam pulled on to me, making me stumble over my fresh clean pink dress. Glancing down at my dress, it became dirty.
Amsterdam and I continued our walk to the five points of New York.