He’d done a research paper on her for his senior history class. He’d made a doll of her. Not much was known about her. Some fires in the 1940’s destroyed many of the town’s paper records. She’d been born to a dirt poor family of ill repute some time in the early 1900’s. During Prohibition, she was about his age, eighteen. Probably a little older. She’d frequently been in trouble with the law. Surviving records showed she’d been sentenced to attend church for a year as punishment for her first criminal offence. She’d spent nights in jail. Mostly, she’d ended up with a lot of community service. It seemed the local court didn’t know what to do with a troublemaking woman at the turn of the century.

Only one picture of her survived the fires of the forties. It was a grainy black and white copy in a newspaper. He’d stared and studied that photo for hours while he worked on his doll. The most disturbing and fascinating mystery of the hellion was how suddenly she vanished from the pages of history. Like she never existed at all. Rumor had it she ran off with Al Capone. Most historians thought she was murdered, her body hidden in an unmarked grave in the woods. Her body had never been found.

Lucas hated thinking such a vibrant girl met such a sad end. He favored the Capone theory. He felt a kinship with her. Like him, he’d been born into a shitty family. She inspired him. He wished he could be like her, minus the law breaking parts. People like her never had debilitating anxiety or panic attacks so bad they needed medication and therapy. Prudence had gone out and lived her life the way she wanted. She set her world on fire. She was bold, fearless, and strong.

He tried to be outgoing, to be a rebel, in his own quiet ways. Most doll makers were girls. Even more taboo was his interest in Adult Baby. He’d always wished he could’ve met Prudence. If she was still alive, she’d be well over a hundred. Yet here before him sat a girl bearing his idol’s name.

Suddenly, the familiar feeling niggling in the back of his mind clicked into place. “You look just wike her!” He blurted. A warm stream of pee poured over his crotch and pooled under his butt. The thick padding absorbed it all. The bulge around his crotch expanded, ballooning out more as his diaper swelled up. He didn’t notice.

“Look like who?” Prudence’s smile turned teasing. Her tone said she already knew the answer.

Tears stung his eyes at the certainty she was making fun of him. Just when he started to open up a little, she mocked him. Normally, he wasn’t such a crybaby, but tonight he was extra vulnerable and sensitive. He was out of his familiar comfort zones and Rosie left him stranded, alone and on his own in a sea of strangers. He was stressed, on edge. He couldn’t handle any teasing. Especially from a stranger.

The smile fell from Pru’s face. For the first time, she sounded worried. “Hey, don’t cry. I’m just teasing. I’m sorry. It’s alright.” Her hands moved in a placating gesture. “Hey. How about some hot chocolate? Perfect on a chilly day like this. My treat, to make up for being such a jerk.” With that, she spun around on her butt, hopped off the table, and disappeared into the sea of strangers.

Prudence stood in line for the hot chocolate vendor. The sky was a brilliant ombre of red and magenta edged in twilight purple as the sun sank. Costumed kids and parents paraded through the center of Main Street. Soon, they’d go to booths for trick or treating once the sun fully set and the streetlights came on.

Lucas was such a hot mess inside. She normally looked down on weak people as pathetic failures. His pain spoke to her. She understood it all too well. Something inside was tearing him apart. She didn’t know what it was, but she felt his pain like it was her own. She’d been in his shoes once upon a time. Sick of hungry, screeching siblings, fighting parents, her father’s belt…young human Prudence had snapped. Illegal moonshine numbed her pain. Her old man had been right about that. Stolen food stopped the hunger. She kept the company of men to avoid the company of her dysfunctional family.