Chapter Text
[A/N: Enjoy the fruits of my nearly five years of laboring on this story! ╰(*°▽°*)╯
Potential Trigger Warnings:Mentions of war, implications of abuse, depictions of PTSD, verbal sexual harassment.]
"You're crazy Dorothy!", a gruff male voice shouted out at the back of a young woman's head. "No, papa. What's crazy is you thinkin' I'll stay here for the rest of MY life as YOUR maid!", the young woman snapped back as she attempted to concentrate on diligently packing her old dusty leather luggage. There was only so much one could carry by hand, how much of her life could she possibly cram into this singular case? "You shouldn't believe all the crap your auntie says 'bout the big city", her father grumbled lowly. "I know. So I'm gonna go and figure out what's out there", Dorothy retorted back, growing tired of this argument. She found she was growing tired of all of it, the yelling, the belittling, the holes in the wall. Working her fingers to the bone day in and day out, helping out on their failing farm, cooking and cleaning like some kind of indentured servant. The only reward for her hours upon hours of back breaking labor were the calluses on her hands, and emotional scars carved into her heart. Nothing had ever seemed good enough for the angry farmer, one of the many reasons she wanted to strike out on her own like her aunt had in the past, receiving a great deal of scrutiny, leaving behind rumors and gossip.
Over time she began to deeply think about what kind of future she could possibly have in such an environment. Would she truly have to spend the rest of her days under her father's thumb, only to end up getting sold off to another equally terrible man from their tiny miserable town for a handful of chickens and a goat? That itself would be a miracle as many of the townsfolk weren't particularly fond of Dorothy, to them her only decent assets were her face and body. Aside from that, they constantly disparaged her desire for learning, complaining that she asked far too many questions or thought too much. What kind of young woman wanted to spend all her time learning when she could simply do as the others have? She should be chatting over chores with the other women about what their plans for their family and children were. Not that Dorothy had any problems with said conversations, she just couldn't bring herself to relate to or envision herself joining them. As she watched and observed the town over the years, taking in the lives of all her "friends" and neighbors, she finally came to a realization that would catapult her life in a completely unforeseen direction. There was not a single person's life that she could envision herself living, the mere thought of it made her want to scream and cry in opposition.
Dorothy made her way downstairs, bag in hand, blowing past the huffing man who followed behind, her auburn hair whipping behind her. "If you walk out that door, you better not even think 'bout comin' back, ya hear?!", she could hear the man threaten in a mix of rage and desperation as she reached for the doorknob. "Loud and clear!", she raised her voice, opening the door before hesitating, turning her head slightly. "Take care of yourself papa", Dorothy sounded out a bit softer, right before clomping down the rickety porch steps, the final words her father would ever hear from her. Faded white paint had long begun chipping off the neglected wood, years of wear and tear on the exterior reflecting the states of the residents within. Old scuffed brown shoes made their way up the dusty path, wavy mahogany hair blowing along the hot, arid wind with her dark blue skirt. "That city's gonna eat you alive!", the man shouted toward the ever shrinking form before it finally disappeared along the horizon. Never once faltering nor looking back a for a single moment as she continued toward her next stop before departing for good.
The dry, brown grass crunched under every step she took as she approached a small withered tree in the middle of the desolate field. Dorothy leaned her luggage against the chipping bark of the trunk before going behind the tree, sitting on her knees as she began to dig. She had taken on odd jobs from neighbors over the years, slowly saving her escape fund, nearly failing a few times. Her father originally stole quite a bit of her savings whenever she hid them in different places around the house or barn before discovering the current spot she was digging in. The field had essentially been abandoned, the only living things that would approach the vicinity were snakes, insects, and the occasional cow. Her fingers were filthy, and her skirt had a layer of dust covering it just as she had retrieved her prize. A small wooden box she opened up, containing some dirt that leaked in along with a small pouch. The pouch rustled and jingled with the contents, the accumulation of five years worth of savings, which still wasn't much. She wasn't always paid with money, more often she was paid in food, animal products, or favors such as handyman repairs around the farm. With her funds retrieved she had begun her long journey, hitching a ride from a passing farmer toward the train station.
Dorothy Lynch had know since she was young that there was more to life than just staying at the farm, making the occasional trip into town. The devastation the droughts would cause to their farm was great, the crops nearly unsalvageable. The young woman had long felt that staying on this land any further would only lead toward disaster, not realizing that in ten years time the dust bowl would ravage the farmlands all around them. But her father was an old, stubborn farmer who refused to leave regardless of the circ*mstances."I was born on this land! So I'll die here!", he would rant, any time the mention of possibly leaving was brought up. She was done trying to convince the sour old man to move on, it was like talking to a brick wall. And she certainly didn't want to turn out like her late mother who only knew of life on the farm. Any meaning or attachments the young woman had to the farm or tiny town had long since gone. The only thing really keeping her there was the duty she felt she needed to carry for her father.
Ernest Lynch wasn't always such an angry and bitter man, he was once a caring and doting father, always giving her rides on his shoulders around the farm, making whinnying noises. But as the great war began, her father was drafted to fight, proud to defend his country and its freedoms. Dorothy and her mother spent many sleepless nights huddled together on the couch, listening to the radio broadcast announcements to remain updated on the war. Walking to the post office everyday, praying for the next letter to arrive, the only proof of life from her father. Always worried that the next letter they received would be a consolation letter, or worse, no letter at all. Ernest eventually returned from duty a changed man, along with a heavy limp from a leg injury. What was once a man brimming with pride and joy for the world, was now reduced to a man disgruntled with life. Dorothy and her mother were elated at his return, celebrating and doting on him until the nightmares began. Ernest woke up screaming constantly, having such little sleep that he had lead most of his days like a zombie.
At times her mother would arise from bed having physically fought off her husband as the night terrors took over his body, almost as though he were possessed by a demon. Her mother would constantly pray and read from the bible after these difficult nights, not knowing that it was only the beginning of Ernest's downward spiral. While he hadn't consciously put hands on his family, he had begun to act coldly toward them with the occasional outburst of rage, throwing items across the house and punching holes in walls, screaming about the sacrifices made he made for them and their country. During those moments Dorothy's mother would urge her to play outside, or run an errand in town to shield her from his outbursts. She was far too young to realize what her father had gone through in the aftermath of the war, only knowing that her father was no longer the same man she used to know. She used to run full speed and jump into his arms, now she was barely able to be in the same room, finding herself tiptoeing around the man, flinching every time he would call her name.
Her mother's death would only serve to dig Ernest into a deeper hole, completely cutting himself off emotionally from the young girl. Slowly becoming the man he had become today, a bitter, angry man devastated by fighting in a war and losing the love of his life. The only way he knew how to express himself now was by yelling or throwing things, rarely having a civil conversation with his daughter. The only civil conversations being about daily chores and demands for a specific type of dinner he wanted that day. Dorothy's only escape were the few times she could escape to read on her own or daydream about a life outside of the farm. Fondly recalling the times her aunt would visit the farm during holidays, spinning tales of her travels all over the country. Dreaming of living a life that was at least a fraction as fascinating at her aunt. Though her father never seemed to approve of the brazen and waggish woman, the complete opposite of her mother who was a kind and tranquil woman.
Dorothy's aunt would tell her stories of her adventures in New Orleans and how lively the city was, along with how dead the country side was in comparison. The many parties and music you could hear and see, the bright lights that lined the city streets. The more young Dorothy heard stories of the alleged fantastic city, the more she longed to see it. What kind of music could she hear? What kind of parties could she attend? What would life look like for her if she had the opportunity be in such a town? So here she was, off to walk in her aunt's footsteps along with the money she was able to scrimp together for a train ticket to New Orleans. She sat patiently at what looked like a deserted train station as the next one wouldn't appear for some time. Dorothy slowly squeezed the handle of the luggage sat beside her, doubts slowly sprouting in her mind before she shut her eyes tightly, stamping them out.
The old man's final words would further cement that this would likely be a one way trip, there was no going back at this point as she had burned that bridge. Dorothy had never once been anywhere outside her tiny hometown, so she felt a mixture of both excitement and fear. Excitement at leaving behind her old life for something brand new, but fear of the unexpected and unknown. She had no idea what to actually expect since she hadn't seen her aunt since her mother's funeral, having offered to take her away all those years ago. Dorothy heavily regretted not taking that offer when she had the chance, held back by the grief of losing her mother and the guilt of abandoning her father. If not now, then she might never have another opportunity to glance at the outside world. That thought somehow felt far worse than spending the rest of her life on the farm with her father.
Dorothy flinched at the sound of the train rolling in, hissing to a stop as an attendant hung his head out and announced the boarding time and train location. She scrambled to retrieve her luggage, securing her hat on her head, quickly walking toward the attendant that had stepped off the train. The young woman handed off her ticket as he read it, taking out a small silver tool that punched a hole in her ticket before handing it back to her. The attendant proceeded to take her luggage before leading her to her seat, placing the luggage overhead, informing her that it would be forty-five minutes before departure before telling her to enjoy the ride. Dorothy took a deep breath as her heart fluttered in her chest, looking around like a child, having never been on a train. She was feeling a bit more excited about her decision, not that there was anyway to take it back now. Little did she know about how drastic a turn her life would take from this decision.
-Time/Place Skip-
Dorothy was feeling a mixed bag of emotions at she looked up at the huge building while exiting the trolley. The young woman was everything from terrified to excited, and most certainly overwhelmed. The pair of forest green eyes didn't know where to focus, her ears didn't know what to sounds to pay attention to. New Orleans was so much more that what she could possibly imagine from her aunt's recollections. She had also heard of some cities who's buildings towered over the one's surrounding her. At this point she was really glad she hadn't considered going to any of those other cities. There were already so many people, the streets bustling, the street cars and occasional automobile speeding by. Dorothy hardly ever seen any of the new fangled automobiles in her hometown. Anytime one was ever seen or mentioned, it would become a spectacle. But here... Here automobiles could be seen every few minutes, the loud running motors echoing her racing heart, reflecting elation and trepidation. Despite the overwhelming feelings she had, Dorothy had a giant smile plastered on her face. She felt like a kid at their first county fair or train ride, not that the two were very comparable to exploring a new city.
She began walking cautiously, looking around in every direction before being swept up in a crowd of pedestrians crossing the street. The small woman struggled desperately before breaking free from the crowd, retreating to a corner for safety taking several breaths to catch her bearings. A nearby paper boy caught her eye before she decided to purchase one of his news papers, waving a hand to flag him down. The boy thanked her with a tip of his cap before continuing his shouts of advertisem*nt, waving papers toward passing businessmen. Dorothy soon found a bench to take refuge at, in a somewhat quiet park nearby. She sighed lightly, already feeling a bit fatigued by the experiences thus far, opening the newspaper with a flutter. She had heard from her aunt that sometimes living spaces would be advertised in the paper, along with jobs and services. Since she currently didn't have a place to stay, she began combing the printed words, occasionally distracted by the flashy advertisem*nts.
Dorothy wasn't the best reader in the world as she had only learned to read from her mother, rarely having the opportunity to borrow books from the miniscule library in her hometown. She had very little practice compared to many, but was able to eventually discern what she was looking at. "Golly, these prices are high", her green eyes widened slightly, as she gawked at the letters accompanied by numbers. Most apartments were far too expensive with what money she had on hand, let alone the luxury of a house. She began looking at hotel and motel listings that seemed far more affordable to her at the moment. Of course it would just be a room, but that was all she needed at the moment, not feeling particularly picky. The young woman eventually found a place called the Rose Chateaux that seemed to have reasonable prices. She picked up her bag as she decided to go find it, gulping in nervously before making her way back onto the busy street.
-Time/Place Skip-
Dorothy let out a deep sigh, collapsing onto the tiny bed in the room she rented for the week. It had taken her a couple of hours to find the establishment. She had never spoken to so many people in her whole life, the whole ordeal was terrifying. Some were a bit dismissive but she had luckily found a few helpful folks to point her in the right direction. Everyone spoke so quickly, while some had very heavy accents she couldn't discern and was too afraid to ask them to repeat themselves, so she got lost a few times. As it turned out the hotel was not that far from the park she had sat at, she just kept getting turned around. Walking in circles, blocks around her destination, making her feel foolish when she finally found herself stood before the doors. A sense of relief washed over her as she walked through the doors, feeling as though she found shade in an expansive desert.
Luckily the hotel staff were very polite in explaining how their rates worked as they had quite a few travelers passing through, currently there were no big events or festivals which made the prices more favorable. So Dorothy had enough money to stay roughly a week, unless she wanted to starve during her stay. In that amount of time she needed to find not only a job, but also an affordable apartment. She laid for a long while on the springy mattress, staring up at the ceiling just thinking. Wondering if she made the right decision to come here, it all seemed like too much too soon. She had no idea where to even begin looking for a job, let alone an apartment. Anxiety rose within her at the thought of failing to secure either of those things, possibly ending up homeless on the streets.
"Ugh! What am I gonna do? Go back to the farm?!", Dorothy chastised herself before sitting up and looking out of the nearby window, dispelling the intruding thoughts. "Hmmm. I still got some time before it gets too dark", she mused aloud, seeing how bright it still was outside. She made sure she had everything she needed before leaving the hotel, taking care to observe her surrounding so she could find her way back with hopefully far less difficulty than before. Dorothy walked through the streets feeling a bit more secure now that she had a place to stay. The only problem now is that she was starting to get hungry, and room service was far too expensive on her present budget. It didn't have to be delicious, it just had to satiate her hunger for the evening. That was her father's philosophy anyway, "Don't complain and just eat".
"Hey Bunny", Dorothy was snapped out of her thoughts by a deep voice calling out from one side. She turned to a small group of men sat on the porch, chuckling while swaying side to side. "I'm sorry?", Dorothy wasn't sure whether he was speaking to her or someone else, not that there were many pedestrians on this street. "Well fellas, looks like we got ourselves a hotsy-totsy tomato", the man chuckled, looking up and down at the young woman. Her green eyes reflected confusion, having no clue as to what this man was talking about. But she began feeling uncomfortable under this strange man's gaze. One of the men stood up as they collectively began giving her the same look, making her even more uneasy. The large man took a step off the porch towards Dorothy, making her back up a step, her heart rate beginning to pick up. "There ya are!", a feminine voice sounded out suddenly as she felt a hand on her shoulder, making her flinch. Her auburn hair fluttered as she turned to see a young woman with very short blonde hair and clear blue eyes, wearing a blue dress and hat. "C'mon, the gals are this way", the blonde looped her arm with Dorothy's before pulling her away. The small woman glanced back to see the men sit back down as she was dragged away by this stranger.
"You should really ignore those zozzled bimbos", the blonde spoke up as she continued pulling the confused young woman along. "Zozzled?", Dorothy inquired, sounding even more confused than before as she was pulled along by the stranger. "Zozzled, ya know? Before getting half-seas over", the blonde tried to explain, seeing how the look in Dorothy's face grew more and more confused, as though they were speaking separate languages. "Drunk", the blonde simplified for her, earning an understanding look from her. "Ya ain't from 'round here are ya?", the blonde inquired, seeing how lost the young woman looked. Dorothy simply shook her head," I was just lookin' for a place to eat", she explained. "Well there's lotsa places to eat 'round here. But lucky for you, I know the perfect place", the blonde smiled, happily dragging her further up along the street."I should've stayed in the hotel",Dorothy deadpanned, curious on where she would find herself next.
[1920's Dictionary
Bunny:Someone who seems lost, but in an endearing way
Hotsy-Totsy:Attractive; pleasing to the eye
Tomato:A young woman who is "shy of brains"
Zozzled:Drunk
Bimbo:A macho man
Half-seas over:"sh*tfaced" level of drunk]
