Pour ma fille petite.

2. Pour ma fille petite. anges veillent Que les sur vous je suis allé. quand Propriété de Tatia Fritz

3. Journal 1 I feel so tired from running up and down town trying to find the little one. Bill even said that it would be better just to wait it out until Oliver came back. He hadn’t peached on us in court so why should he now? Something’s not right with Fagin. The way that he wanted to get Oliver back was almost like he had a secret reason to it all. We finally found him in an alleyway, having lost his way from the old man’s house. Bill and I were able to get the boy back to Fagin without outsiders getting involved luckily. The poor boy though, he struggled the whole way back. He even tried to escape when we were inside the building. Bill was so angry he started to threaten the boy. I feared for him; him a child though older than I was when I was first beat, but still emotionally the same. I got to Oliver in time to stop the beating before it even began. I wish that he hadn’t been in that alleyway that day; he would be better off.

4. Journal 2 I woke with a start tonight. I fear that with this Oliver child coming into my life come those memories that I’ve tried so hard to repress; memories that no child should ever have to endure. All those bloody buggers throwing money at me just tear and mangle my lifeless self. I can’t help but be glad that Bill helped me get out of that hell hole. It also reminds me that Fagin holds a candle to the devil and it is my duty to watch over the poor boy named Oliver. He’s not like the other boys; his innocence is still in contact. Bill squirmed a little and grumbled about me waking him but soon fell back to sleep. I laid back down and hugged him close to me. “What’s wrong,” he groaned drowsily. “Nothing more than a shadow, Bill.” He squeezed me tighter to him; he knew that it was something. Him being a man and knowing I didn’t want to talk about it he went back to sleep. What would my life be like now without him?

5. Journal 3 Bill came in covered in blood this morning. I was so frightened I searched him franticly for any wound, any wound at all. He pushed me aside and howled at me that it wasn’t his blood. I then realized little Oliver wasn’t with him. “Where is he,” I asked. He answered back hesitantly, “He was shot. I couldn’t carry the little lout to safety without being caught. I left him in a ditch and ran.” I felt fear for the child; he was out there bleeding, most likely dead, and in such a short amount of time. If I could’ve I would’ve cried; with Bill there though I didn’t dare. He could understand sometimes, but other times he would be less than loving. He swept me up into an embrace and pulled me to the bed where we lay for a while. Though the dirty stench of his clothes filled my nostrils and the flooding thoughts of Oliver swam through my mind, I still felt my heart sigh that my Bill was okay.

6. Journal 4 When I collected the money tonight for Bill from Fagin something huge happened. Monks, the man over Fagin, came. I’m not sure if he recognized me from before but I recognized him. A few nights ago, when Oliver was left by Bill in the ditch, he’d said that he would pay Fagin to get Oliver back and turn him into a crook. This made no sense to me then last night came. He spoke of getting rid of the only evidence to Oliver’s identity and getting the child’s money. He also spoke of how sad he was that he couldn’t end the boy’s life without bringing his own neck in danger. Then I was shocked to hear the next part. He said to Fagin, “In short, Fagin, Jew as you are, you never laid such snares as I'll contrive for my young brother, Oliver.” I couldn’t believe it; his younger brother? Then he talked of Oliver being with two women, and how much of a blessing and a curse it was that they were taking care of him. When he was finished I dashed back down and waited. After I got the money I at first ran in one direction out of feeling hopeless. I needed to tell someone. I dashed back to Bill’s place, and as soon as he dozed, rose again and hurried to the women’s house. Maylie was their name and when I beheld Miss Rose Maylie I was astonished; she was like an angel in manners and appearance. I told her all that I’d seen and heard. I noticed that it was getting late a little while later and didn’t want to have Bill wake up with me gone; there was no telling what he would do. I left after she tried to help me. I hope that Monks stays away from her. He seems extremely dangerous. As I write this I fear for my own life as well. Who knows what could be lurking in the shadows watching? I get shivers at just the thought.

7. Journal 5 I talked to Miss Maylie again tonight. As I write I shake. We met on the London Bridge, and she brought someone, the old man who took Oliver in, Mr. Brownlow. I begged them not to get any of the others in trouble. I didn’t want any trouble from the others, especially Bill I love him too much and he would surely lose his temper. Maybe even to an extent where he might murder me. I gave them the public house and I gave a description of Monks so they could have most of their event planned. Mr. Brownlow tried to help me, offering money and protection, but I couldn’t accept. This is my life; this is the way I chose. I can’t go back without feeling loads of guilt pound against me. And then there was Bill. I think I hear him coming now. I had better hide this so he doesn’t find it. He would kill me if he saw me writing in this.