❝ PICKET FENCE! ❞ → GRAY ✓

→ ii.xi

Act Two, Scene Eleven

→ ❝ it's okay, charlie! ❞

             When Carol woke up, her vision was hazy and her head was spinning faster than the wheels on Arthur's car. Her hand shot to her temple in attempt to dull the thud resonating from it, and she was met with a warm, sticky spot. The wound had seemed to stop bleeding profusely (the blood had dried down the side of her face, sticking strands of her hair to her cheek), but the wound itself was still fresh and raw. She noticed that some blood had dripped onto the shoulder of her yellow dress, and her knees were red and grazed through her stockings.

             She couldn't remember why she was there, in a dark grimy room that resembled a stable, and it made her hands shake. Where was Michael? Where was she? Her legs involuntarily stumbled towards the door as she rattled the knob desperately, turning it in any direction she could think of. Locked. She sighed, turning around and smacking the back of her head onto the wood as she sighed, biting back tears.

             Carol's eyes flitted around the room as her vision cleared, trying to make sense of the situation. It came back to her in a flood, drowning her under the fear she felt as she watched Charlie being taken away by the nurse. Charlie. She sighed in relief as her sight settled onto the toddler – who was sat with his legs out at the other side of the room and playing with some wooden blocks – and suddenly her maternal instincts kicked in. She walked over to him slowly, bending her knees to drop to his height.

             Charlie looked up at her, stretching out his arms that held a red and a green block in either hand. "Cal," he babbled, dropping the blocks on the floor as Carol hooked her hands under his armpits. "Daddy."

             "Hello, Charlie," she said as she hoisted the boy up, placing a kiss on his head. "I don't know where daddy is, but he'll find us soon. I know he'll find us soon."

             Footsteps. There were footsteps in the next room, echoing around the stone walls. Carol's eyes shot to the door, and she ran towards it as fast as she could, her beige heels tapping against the floor at a much more frantic speed than the stranger.

             "Help! Someone help us, please!" she screamed, placing Charlie by her feet as her fist hammered on the wood as hard as she could. Her cheek was pressed against the door and her tears were beginning to saturate the dark wood. Charlie started to cry, which only made Carol more desperate, "Anybody, please! Help us! Please-"

             Carol's cries died down when she heard the lock being turned on the other side of the door and the stepped back, picking Charlie up so he wouldn't get crushed by the door. The hairs on her arm pricked as she heard the person behind the door whistling an uncomfortably merry tune.

             "We're a little excited, aren't we?" a voice said as they swung the door open to reveal a priest with a tray of bread and water in his arms. His Irish accent reminded Carol of her old school teacher, and how much she hated that woman. "Now, if you're not careful you'll knock this door down."

             Carol stood still, her feet rooted to the spot as she turned her body to shield Charlie from the man before them. She recognised him to be the same priest from the Charity Dinner – the one that caught Michael's eye – and couldn't work out what he was doing. "Why-"

             He tutted, placing the tray on the floor by the boarded up window while the girl watched him with a fearful gaze. She didn't know what this man was capable of, and wasn't excited to find out. "How are you, my dear Carol?" he asked nonchalantly, "How is Thomas Shelby?"