• DIVORCÈE •

Part 6

"Get up." Thomas instructs, just as my naked friend looks at him. "And get out."

"Fuck off, mate." The stranger barks and I put my smoke between my lips and seize. I light up my smoke, looking at my toes, I wiggle them, stretching.

"Yikes," I inhale sharply, shaking my head. "Ya shouldn't have said that." I sing, watching as Thomas rolls his eyes.

Before I can even take a proper swig of my smoke, the man is grabbed by his ankles and thrown off my bed and dragged onto the floor by Thomas. I sit up and take the duvet with me, I cover my tits, unsure of what else to do before leaning for my glass of whiskey.

I hear the man moan, before Thomas throws his clothes at him. "I said leave!"

The man gets up, and I remember him in that moment. Steve. That was his name, Steve. His pretty green eyes meet mine, "You should have told me you got a husband."

My lungs fill with the tobacco, I shake my head, "He's not my husband." I say examining how ugly my big toe is. "He was," I tell him in a light voice. "When all was good in the world, and Eva was alive."

"What?" Steve asks before getting up to stand, he pulls on his trousers. "Love, you owe me for the morphine."

I snap my eyes at him, "Oh shut up!" Steve gets shocked by my sudden behaviour. "Tommy will pay you, won't you, Thomas?"

Thomas huffs, shaking his head, shoving his hand into his pocket. "Un-fucking-believable."

"Fine. You fucking rich bastard, can't even pay for my drugs," I exhale, turning my gaze to Steve. "Steve, my money is on top of the kitchen counter. Help yourself."

"My name ain't Steve."

Whoopsie daisy.

"Here." Thomas gives him some cash, far too much in comparison to what I owe him. "Now do I say, and go."

Steve walks away with the money, leaving my bedroom door open.

"I'm paying for your rent, paying for you drugs now too. I heard you tried to throw the telephone at the maid," He shakes his head, pointing at me. "You aren't eating, all I can see is skin to bone."

I sigh, not knowing what to say or do with Thomas Shelby in my presence. I raise an eyebrow before wondering what's even going on.

"What are you doing here, Thomas?"

I watch as he kicks shut the door, pulling out a smoke for himself and lighting it up. "And morphine? Is that what you're taking now?"

"Yep." I pop the p. "And tablets, they help me sleep" My head rests against the wall as I flutter my eyes shut, "And cocaine, wine, whiskey, I'm sure these are all products you've heard about. That maid of yours was a bloody snitch."

He scoffs, "You've lost it, have you?"

I swallow as he makes fun of my grievance. Silence fills the room, my eyes rolling back. My smoke fits between my lips as the smell of his stronger cigarettes make my nose scrunch up.

"Look," He starts, taking a seat beside me, "I'm heading to Boston for some business and I think it'll be good if you come with me. See America, have something else to look at rather than these blank walls."

"Youre not taking Lizzie." I hiss, shifting in the bed, I take the duvet with me as I get on my feet, trying to stay as far away from Thomas as possible. "Fuck You. I'm fine where I am."

"You call this fine!?" He asks me, moving on his feet.

The bed sits between us as he raises his hands all around the room, he looks like a maniac. "Eh, this is far from fine! You-you'll end up going mad cooped up in this house. I hear you've got two, sometimes, three men come to your flat and pay you a midnight visit, y/n. You call that fine?!"