EYES LIKE RAZORS

(102) Uncle Charlie

Madisons reading had improved tremendously, she could now put together full sentences, it took some time, but she could do it.

Her writing still needed improvement, some words were spelt incorrectly and more often than not, the shakiness of her hand resulted in the words being illegible, which just frustrated her further, and if she was alone she'd end up throwing her pen at a nearby wall, getting her secret stash of rum, and taking a large sip.

"What is that?" Edmund asks, stopping in his tracks as he entered the room, seeing Madison with a bottle of rum touching her lips.

"Rum," Madison mumbles, Eddie recovering from his shock, marching forwards with a stern look on his face - one that reminded her of when Tommy would find her in the same position as a teenager, a stern fatherly expression.

One that meant they still loved her, but were ticked off.

"We had a deal Mads." He says, taking the bottle from her hands.

"I know."

"I am trying to help you," Eddie sighs, taking a deep breath, "will you explain to me why?"

Madison shrugs, "it calms me, makes me forget how utterly fucking stupid I am."

"You're not stupid in any way," Edmund replies, shaking his head, "I can't write and I can barely bloody read." Madison retorts.

"So? That's got nothing to do with whats in your bloody head, you haven't lost your intelligence, Madison." Edmund states.

He's lying. You hate liars.

It's like somebody is hissing in her ear.

You're stupid, an idiot. He will betray you too.

"Shut up," Madison mutters, smacking the side of her head with her hand.

"What?" Edmund asks, "not you," Madison says, and Eddie clicks his tongue, looking down at the shell of his bestfriend, she was not right. It was becoming more and more obvious with time.

"You're not stupid, Mads. So you can't read or write, that can be learnt, and you're progressing, you'll get there. But the knowledge in your head hasn't gone, you're still the smartest person in every shitting room you walk in to." Edmund tells her.

"Maybe getting you to quit it all at once was too much, so let's do it gradually. Perhaps choose a couple of days a week to drink, then each time drink less. Try lager, or add a mixer." He suggests, "I am going to try and fucking help you, it doesn't matter if you don't want me to, if you don't ask me to. I am going to try. You'd do it for us, I am not going to give up on you, so you better not fucking give up on yourself."

"I appreciate it, Ed," Madi sighs, "I do, but I'm not sure the version of me you're trying to achieve exists. I love you for believing it might, but... I just, I'm not sure about anything anymore."

That's it, close yourself off. Push them away. You'll end up alone anyway. Push them away before they can hurt you. They will hurt you. They will leave you. Everybody does.

-

"Hey Charlie," Madison smiles at him, sitting on the stool beside him, a fire lit in front of them.

"You alright, Mads? Haven't been to Birmingham in a while." Charlie says.

"Hasn't changed all that much," Madi shrugs.

"I assume there's a reason your here, back in Birmingham, running the risk of one of Tommys soldiers reporting they'd seen you about. Why be here when you could be in the lovely, fresh countryside, eh?" Charlie replies.