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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃
𝑊𝐴𝑅𝑁𝐼𝑁𝐺𝑆:
𝐺𝑂𝑅𝐸, 𝑀𝐸𝑁𝑇𝐴𝐿 𝑃𝑅𝑂𝐵𝐿𝐸𝑀𝑆, 𝑂𝑉𝐸𝑅𝐷𝑂𝑆𝐼𝑁𝐺.
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
"What do you need, Tom." You asked flatly. It was the first time you saw him since the gallow situation, or the incident you call it.
"Empty your pockets." Michael was with you and you looked at him, taking your pockets out which only contained a tin of cigarettes, a lighter and some cash that contained maybe 100 pounds.
Michael on the other hand had cocaine. You already knew, the Gray's went into shambles after the incident. You luckily were keeping them alive at the very least, keeping them from getting killed.
Polly was on tablets that the prison gave her and whiskey, which wasn't a good combination as it made her quite mental. Her talk of spirits though, you know those were real. They were always real, it was just the opioids that were a huge issue.
It was still a bit scary at times, seeing her talk some dark stuff to air that she saw as a spirit. It was a gift alright, a curse and a gift. But whenever it happened and she noticed, another pill popped in her mouth with a glass of whiskey.
You helped her in every way you could, you lived with her as she needed help. But you also had your own issues and trauma from that day, but Polly was a main priority. Michael was a priority. They were all your priority.
"What's with the cocaine Michael?" He asked, disappointment lacing his voice.
"It keeps me awake. Every time I sleep the nightmares come from that day."
"Y/n, what's with the cigarettes?"
"I've smoked them for a while now, Tom. Fuck off." You waved him off, putting them back in your pocket while you took one out and lit it, giving one to Thomas as well.
"How's your mother?"
"I haven't slept since Thomas, the tablets.."
"Did I ask about you Michael? No. How's your mum?"
"She's on the tablets the coppers gave her, heavy on the whiskey. Talking about spirits." He explained quickly, sighing at the end. Tommy nodded, taking a drag of his cigarette.
"Your mother..assure her that the tablets aren't making her see spirits. They're real alright. Throw away the tablets, get rid of the whiskey. Get her champagne or something." He uttered, it was like a whole plan he had made. Michael nodded, not fighting with his plan. It sounded easier then done to you, though.
"Y/n, have you been taking care of her?"
"The best I can. I've tried everything, been with her every fucking day. She is worrying me Tommy! Nothing bloody works!" He made a little noise at your yelling, taking it into consideration.
