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Thank you. Do it the right way with Indeed. It's March 1824 in London, England.

A 12-year-old Charles Dickens bangs on the gate of the Marshall Sea Prison

and steps back and waits for the jailer to come to the door.

A few weeks ago, Charles's father, John, was arrested. He had fallen into debt, and in line with British law,

his creditors had him locked up in a debtor's prison, long with his wife and children. The entire family is behind bars, except Charles, who's deemed old enough to go out and work

to pay off his family's debts.

Charles spends 10 hours in a factory every day, pasting labels on jars of boot polish.

But before his long shift begins, he comes here to the Marshall Sea to eat

breakfast with his family. After a few moments, the jailer unlocks the heavy door and allows Charles

to enter. Charles doesn't need further guidance. He knows the damp hallways of the Marshall Sea all

too well now. He knows not to be startled by the cackles of the old men driven

mad by their long incarceration, and he knows where to edge closer to the wall to avoid the grasp

of starving debtors who reach out from their dark cells begging for bread. Still, it's a relief

when Charles reaches the end of the hallway and enters his family's room. It's early,

and Charles' mother and younger siblings are still huddled together asleep in their tiny bed.

But Charles' father, John, is up, and he gives Charles a thin smile. He pushes a bowl

toward his son, and Charles peers inside. It's gruel, a watery oatmeal with little taste and less nutritional value,

but it's all his father can afford. So Charles prods at it with his spoon before reluctantly forcing

...