Amelia was walking towards her encounter with Isaiah, her heart beating steadily as she neared the time and place where they had agreed to meet. She was nervous, unsure of how things were going to go, but she felt that this was something she needed to do. She stopped when she arrived at the Cut, spotting Isaiah sitting against a pillar while he smoked a cigarette.
Amelia watched him for a few seconds, absorbing his appearance and observing every detail. While on some level she felt a bit of trepidation and apprehension, she also couldn't help but feel a mixture of excitement and intrigue as she took him in.
Isaiah looked up and noticed her standing there, his gaze lingering on her for a moment as they locked eyes. He seemed to be studying her, taking in her appearance and taking his time to evaluate her as he watched her for a moment before finally breaking the tension with a small smile.
"You've come." He said, his tone indicating both surprise and a hint of amusement as he acknowledged her presence.
"Yeah. I've come." She settled down beside him, her tone remaining calm and straightforward as she expressed her presence. "I don't wish to be selfish, but I would like to ask you something." He nodded in acknowledgement, humming softly as he waited for her to continue. "I've seen you and Finn sniffing cocaine. I've seen how your moods improved after that." She cleared her throat, her tone indicating her intentions in a straightforward and unapologetic manner. "I want cocaine."
"So, you've been avoiding me for weeks and now you want to meet up with me just to ask me for snow?" Isaiah's response came with a sarcastic and ironic tone, but there was no denying the truth in his words.
"I can't ask for it from Finn. he wouldn't give it to me." Amelia replied, the logic behind her argument making total sense.
"And what makes you think that I would?" Isaiah returned the question with a frown. Amelia remained silent, her gaze shifting to her hands which rested on her lap as she avoided his gaze. "Look, it messes your head. The feeling you get when you do it is great, but it always comes with a price later on." Isaiah continued with a serious tone, his words now taking on a more solemn and cautionary tone.
"I don't care." Amelia argued adamantly, a note of frustration now filling her voice as she spoke. "I've gone days without sleep, I've gone days without being able to smile!"
"And you think this will help you sleep?" Isaiah responded with a scoff, but the concern and seriousness behind his words betrayed his casual indifference. "I know that John's death-"
"No." Amelia cut him off before he could continue.
"I know that John's death hurts you, but you can't rely on snow to get you through the pain." Isaiah finished what he had started, his tone serious as he expressed his concern for her. "It feels great at first, but eventually, you're gonna need more and more of it."
"So what?" Amelia replied, her tone indicating a careless disregard for the dangers and the risks, a mentality that was only possible if she truly felt that nothing else could ease her pain.
"It's gonna destroy you." Isaiah's words were firm and direct, carrying with them a warning that he knew she was likely ignoring right now. Amelia scoffed, wiping away a treacherous tear as she tried to maintain her calm and indifferent expression even as her emotions and thoughts began to overwhelm her.
"I'm a fucking mess." Amelia finally broke her stoic facade, her words coming out in a low and slightly broken voice. "I can't keep thinking. I can't keep suffering over John." Amelia spoke truthfully, her words breaking through the walls she had tried to build. "I need the snow, Isaiah."
"I'm not gonna give you anything, Amelia." Isaiah responded with a shake of his head, his tone firm and decisive, but he couldn't deny the concern that was present in his words. "You're strong, you're gonna get through this. But if you get into that crap, it's a path that you can't come back from."
"I don't care. I need the relief, Isaiah. It's the only thing that will let me keep going." Amelia's response was filled with a sort of desperation, she knew the risks and the potential danger, but she felt so trapped and so lost that the lure of a temporary escape was too tempting.
"I know you don't care. That's part of the problem. I'm trying to help you here." Isaiah's tone shifted, his voice taking on a slightly more caring and more serious tone as he spoke. "Look, I know life right now is tough, and I know it may seem like just one time would make it easier, but trust me, the road you're trying to go down with that mentality is filled with pain and misery, and I cannot-"
"I don't care!" Amelia cut him off once again, the anger and the pain in her voice causing it to crack and break. "I just want it. One hit. That's it. It's all I'm asking for. You know everyone in town does it, even you."
"Yes, one hit is what people always say. One hit, I'll be fine, no need to worry." Isaiah said sarcastically, returning to a more indifferent tone. "And then one hit becomes two, and two becomes three, and three becomes four, and before you know it you're fully dependant on the stuff. It goes fast, and the more you do, the harder it becomes to quit."
"I don't care." Amelia repeated herself, refusing to back down and refusing to be denied. "I just want the damn snow. I've been through enough, I deserve some relief."
"I can't let you go down that path." Isaiah tried one last time, an edge of desperation to his voice as he knew how stubborn his lover could be, how determined she would be to get her way even despite the pain that would ensue.
"Then I'll find it elsewhere." Amelia said, her tone full of contempt and anger. "If you won't get it for me, then I'll get it myself. And I'm sure if I offer, some other guy in this shithole would be more than happy to do so."
"Damnit!" Isaiah exclaimed, his words coming out in a low curse as his frustration and worry boiled over. "You really think that's the answer? Do you think turning to some random dipshit will provide you with any sort of actual relief from what you feel?"
"Yes." Amelia responded without hesitation after he had finished his outburst. She was done with being put down and denied, she felt an overwhelming desire to just numb herself to the pain that was weighing her down and tearing her apart. "That's exactly what I think."
"You're wrong." Isaiah spoke firmly, his tone once again revealing his anger and frustration as he failed to hide his emotions. "That's what you've convinced yourself to believe because you don't want to face the reality. You're going to end up in a much worse situation, and I'm not gonna be there to mop up your tears once you do."
Isaiah stood up, his temper and his emotions getting the better of him, and suddenly he no longer wanted to continue the discussion. His actions made that clear enough, as did the silent fury with which he stared down his stubborn lover. Amelia remained seated, her gaze lowered to the ground as she heard Isaiah walk away from her, his scoff and his movements clearly expressing his utter frustration with her and her refusal to take his advice.
___________________________________
"Right. Before we start this extraordinary general meeting of the board of the Shelby Company Limited, I'd like to note the absence of the Deputy Vice President who has not yet arrived. We will continue without his presence." Thomas spoke, his tone formal and professional as the gathered board members took their seats around the table. Except for Arthur, of course.
"Item number one. The reinstatement of the Shelby Company Limited Company Treasurer. The board welcomes back the former treasurer, with generously improved terms and conditions. Due to the exceptionally difficult circumstances the company now finds itself in. The proposed treasurer will now check the terms and conditions to see if they are in order." Tommy spoke with a formal and efficient manner, his tone remaining serious and calm as he moved on to the topic at hand.
"Item number two. During the absence of the Company Accountant, due to ill health, all responsibilities for the keeping of company accounts passed to the head of acquisitions." Tommy spoke swiftly, moving on to the next topic on the agenda. Amelia covered her mouth with her hand to hide her yawn, as she seemed to have grown bored with the meeting.
"Item number three. The Company Treasurer, having read the terms and condition, lodges a signed contract of employment agreeing to the terms and conditions with the temporary head of accounts. All those in favour of the reinstatement of Mrs Elizabeth Gray, to the position of Shelby Company Limited Company Treasurer, please raise your hands." Thomas motioned for a vote, and one by one, everyone around the table raised their hands in favor of Polly returning to her previous position.
"Why, goodness, thank you." Polly replied in a blatantly sarcastic manner, her tone dripping with contempt as she watched the board members raise their hands in favor of her reinstatement.
"Any other business?" Tommy asked, the tension increasing as he observed the quietness that had settled over the room. "Right. I declare this extraordinary general meeting over. Now we can talk about the real business. But for that we need Arthur."
"Where the hell is Arthur?" Amelia asked aloud, receiving no response as she glared around the table with a frustrated expression, her arms crossed in front of her as she awaited any indication of where he might be.
Polly rose to her feet and walked around the room, smoking a cigarette as Amelia and Lizzie also lit up a cigarette, their expressions revealing their growing boredom and frustration with the wait.
"Sorry, ladies, there's no smoking in here." The door cracked open, revealing a woman, a nurse standing in the doorway.
"Yes, love, we know." Polly replied with a roll of her eyes, closing the door in the nurse's face without any hesitation.
"All right, he's an hour late. Fuck him." Tommy spoke with a touch of anger and frustration, expressing his annoyance with Arthur's late arrival. "This business directly affects Arthur, but he's not here, so we'll take a vote without him."
"What business?" Ada blurted out, drawing everyone's attention toward her as she interrupted the flow of the meeting with her sudden question.
"Official business that wasn't on your agenda, Ada." Polly opened a briefcase and pulled out some documents, a serious look on her face as she set the papers down on the table, her tone shifting back to professionalism.
"An informant told us that six years ago, Luca changretta came from New York to Birmingham to be best man at his cousin's wedding." Tommy continued, his tone now filled with a hint of seriousness as he set down the documents that Polly had provided.
"We found out that they used Reid and Dunn on Broadgate for the photographs. The photographer kept the negatives. I persuaded him to give us copies. And to enlarge this one. That is Luca Changretta." Polly revealed additional details as she showed the gathered board members two copies of the mentioned photograph, one of the wedding in which he was the best man, and one in which only he was in view.
"I've seen his face, so I could pick him out. Half the men in the photograph are Changrettas, which means the chances are they are the men who come to kill us. We need to get both these photographs into pubs and on street corners. Then we put it about that there's a reward for information." Thomas's words brought the room to silence once more, a heavy tension hanging over the gathered board members.
"We also propose that we give a copy of this photograph to Mr Aberama Gold." Polly added.
"We need to forget the idea that it has to be Arthur that pulls the trigger. Tradition will just fuck us up." Tommy continued with a harshness to his tone.
"We should wait for Arthur." Ada insisted, her tone conveying her desire to stick to what they had originally planned.
"We've already waited for more than an hour, Ada." Amelia shot back, her tone harsh and filled with annoyance as she glanced around the table with a frustrated look.
"We need Luca Changretta dead. That's it." Thomas stated with a determined tone, his own attitude reflecting the resolve that had become more apparent throughout the meeting.
"Dropping the law of the bullet is part of the process of modernization that I was working on before I- Before I was executed." Polly's expression remained calm and serious as she spoke.
"You weren't executed, Pol." Michael's words brought out a mild frown from Polly, whose face remained calm and unemotional aside from that slight twitch of her brows.
"What did you call me?" Polly's frown deepened slightly, and her calm and unemotional demeanor quickly shifted into a more intense look of concentration as she fixed her eyes on Michael.
"Right. Let's take a vote. I'll deal with Arthur." Tommy broke into the conversation, changing the topic and directing their attention towards the matter at hand. "All those in favor of giving the photographs to Mr. Gold, raise your hands." The majority raised their hands, waiting for Ada who finally followed suit with a roll of her eyes.
Polly rose to her feet, picking up the papers laid out before her, a serious look on her face as she moved to return the documents to the briefcase.
"Mom..." Michael began.
"Oh, 'mom' now, is it?" Polly replied with a hint of sarcasm as she looked back at Michael, her gaze intense but unhurried as she spoke. After a slight pause, she added, "I smelt perfume when I came in here."
"Yeah, it was the flowers." Tommy replied casually, while the others in attendance rose to their feet, their movement indicating that the meeting had come to a close.
"Right, that's it." Michael responded with a curt nod.
"Who came in here, Michael?" Polly demanded to know as she looked at her son.
"The truth is, Polly, the woman that raised him came in here. She has every right to come in here. She brought him fucking apples and she left. We are in the middle of a vendetta and Arthur is missing. We need to find him. Concentrate on what unites us. This is all temporary." Tommy declared, his tone direct and no-nonsense, as he fastened his jacket and prepared to leave.
"Yeah, temporary, right." Polly responded in a dismissive tone, walking out of the hospital room with a sarcastic air. Tommy rolled his eyes with her departure.
___________________________________
Amelia was seated in her bed, staring at the wall as she remained perfectly immobile, her gaze fixed on a blank spot on the wall in front of her. She remained motionless, the only movement being her deep, steady breaths and the occasional twitch of her lips as she suppressed her anger and frustration.
She turned her gaze to the frame on her bedside table, her eyes fixing on the photograph of herself and John taken years ago. An undeniable sadness rose within her as she observed the picture, and she was unable to hold back a tear, her lower lip quivering as her emotions rose to the surface.
John had a few bruises on his face, indicative of a recent physical altercation. Amelia had helped him clean up the wounds and treated them, which had led to him repeatedly teasing her in the following days. She remembered his teasing with a slight hint of amusement as she recalled the incident, her lips curving up into a slight smile, despite the sadness that she had felt upon observing the photograph.
John had always been her best friend, despite the considerable age difference between them. They would often get into trouble together and receive reprimands together, but the memories that had emerged from such moments never failed to elicit a smile on her face.
She missed her brother with every fiber of her being, desperately trying to convince herself that John was still alive, that he had gone on a trip and would return soon. She tried to ignore the harsh reality, the one in which her brother had been taken away from her by force, in front of her own eyes.
She tried to maintain her composure, attempting to avoid breaking down into sobs, but it was a difficult task. Her grief was palpable, a sorrow that tore her heart apart, as she reminded herself of the day that she had lost the person who had been a constant presence in her life since she was a child.
She felt alone. Empty. Everyone seemed to have moved on from his death, but she continued to immerse herself in his memory, the grief overwhelming her as she replayed the events of his brutal departure from her life.
Breaking down into tears, she rose from the bed, her movements becoming more erratic as she began to lash out, kicking at the bedside table, sending the items on top of it crashing down to the floor. Turning around and directing her rage at the wall, she began hitting and punching it repeatedly, venting her frustration and torment by letting her vocal chords convey the pain that her heart felt. Her body was no longer the source of her agony, although it was difficult to ignore the aches that her hands had to endure, as she continued to give in to her emotions, shouting at the top of her lungs.
She continued to cry and scream despite the pain that her fists were experiencing, her throat sore and her voice hoarse, but none of this could stop her from expressing her despair and grief, not even for a second. Her pain was deep, almost tangible in its severity, as she unleashed a torrent of emotional outbursts that had been bottled up over time, but were now beginning to resurface with such force that they felt unbearable.
She ended up falling to the floor, her back pressed against the door of her bedroom, and began hugging her knees as she broke down into a fresh wave of sobs, her cries of anguish and despair growing weaker but still very much present.
She no longer wanted to continue in this way, but the overwhelming feeling of loss, grief, and anguish was too much for her to bear, and she continued to weep uncontrollably, her cries of pain becoming more and more pitiful as she desperately prayed to be rid of this suffering.
Her body involuntarily reacted to her emotional state, her limbs moving with a sudden intensity after she reached for the revolver that had fallen to the floor from the bedside table. She moved the tip of the firearm onto her temple, closing her eyes tightly as more tears fell from her cheeks, their constant procession of watery streams making it difficult for her to remain still in her state of despair.
The gun was still pressed tightly against her temple, her vision becoming fuzzy due to the tears that had inundated her eyes completely, as her breathing became ragged, and her mind became preoccupied solely with the overwhelming grief and pain that she had been subjected to since John's death.
She tightened her grip on the weapon, pulling the trigger.
Opening her eyes, she was slightly shocked, having expected a different result. She attempted to fire the gun again by pulling the trigger, however, nothing came out of the muzzle of the weapon.
She opened the drum of the revolver, noticing that there was not a single bullet in it, which was such a cruel twist of fate that she could not help but let out a bitter laugh in spite of herself.
She shook her head and glanced around the room, wearing a strained smile despite her tears still streaming down her face, as she let out another bitter, sardonic laugh, her emotions fluctuating between despair and a morbid amusement.
"Was it you, John boy?" Hearing her brother's voice in her head, she paused mid-laugh, her breath catching in her throat and her eyes filling with tears once again, as she recognized the sound of the familiar voice within her thoughts.
"Next time make sure there are bullets in there." The familiar, sarcastic voice of John echoed in her mind, making her pause for a moment once more, her breath catching in her throat as she remembered the way in which he used to tease her. "Are you gonna cry?" his voice mocked softly. "Stop being such a bloody soft woman."
"John?" Amelia uttered his name softly, as she stared around the room in confusion, her eyes darting around in an attempt to locate the source of the familiar voice.
"Yes, you idiot. Who else would it be?" John sounded agitated, and his voice was filled with a sarcastic, almost scornful tone that made her chuckle momentarily, despite the pain that she was experiencing, as she recognized his distinct way of speaking.
"I can't keep going on, John." Amelia ceased smiling, her gaze dropping to the floor as she spoke quietly and with a distinct note of melancholy in her voice, her feelings of despair returning.
"Look at you, pathetic." His voice was filled with amusement, as he mocked her in yet another typical way of his, making her grit her teeth, her hands curling into fists. "Just give up already. Do it. Quit. Throw in the towel." His mocking tone became more callous, as he continued to hurl insults at her, causing her to grit her teeth once more and clench her fists even harder, attempting to hold back her tears.
"Shut up." Amelia whispered, tears falling from her eyes.
"Aww, look at the soft girl crying again." His mocking tone continued to seep through, and made her eyes narrow as her jaw clenched, as she tried to ignore him and keep the sadness and other emotions at bay.
"Shut up, shut up, shut up!" Amelia slammed her fists into the wall once more, frustrated and enraged by his continued ridicule, the sound of the impact reverberating throughout the room as her knuckles became sore from the abuse. "I miss you." The words escaped her lips even though she was trying to keep them in, her emotions overcoming her despite her best efforts. Her sobs were audible, the sound of her sniffling as her body trembled slightly with her pent-up anguish.
"Keep going." John's tone became softer, his manner and tone changing abruptly, as if he felt guilty for his earlier mocking.
"I can't." Her voice came out as a hushed tone, the pain and sorrow in her words barely registering, as she continued to stare downwards and let the tears fall free. "I need you here."
"You do?" the voice continued, now softer than before, his tone becoming less mocking, and more sympathetic.
"Yes..." she whispered, her voice becoming even softer now, while her hands reached up to wipe away the stray tears that continued to roll down her cheeks, the memory of her loss resurfacing within her heart as fresh waves of sadness washed over her. "I miss you, I miss you so damn much."
"Yeah, well..." His voice became softer still, and it was difficult to ignore the distinct change in his tone and demeanour, as if he realized how cruelly he had been treating her during the short conversation that they had been having. "I miss you too."
"But you're not here." She spoke with a quiet desperation, the emotion in her voice evident as she stared down at the floor, trying to regain some semblance of control over her emotions, as she attempted to keep the tears from welling up in her eyes again.
"I know." His voice continued to echo softly in her mind, like the whisper of memory, as she stared at the ground once again, but she could not bring herself to look up at all as her grief and sadness only continued to worsen.
"I don't know what to do." She spoke with in a whisper, her voice filled with sadness as she felt lost and alone, as if the overwhelming amount of emotions were suddenly becoming too much to handle.
"You just have to keep going." His voice continued to sound sympathetic and understanding, and his words contained much more empathy.
"Don't know how." her voice was still shaky and trembled with grief, as she struggled to keep herself calm, the emotional impact that his words had on her almost causing her to break down once again.
"You can do it, Lia." His voice remained compassionate, and there was an air of encouragement in his tone, as if he was attempting to lift her up and give her the strength to carry on, despite her own hopelessness.
She sat back down on the floor, shaking her head as her facial expression became wrinkled, her cheeks flushed with emotions that she was trying so desperately to ignore. She remained unable to look up or to stop crying, despite his encouragement and the words of sympathy that he was attempting to provide.
"I know it's hard, but even if the pain never goes away, you learn to live with it." the voice of her brother continued to sound sympathetic, his words comforting, as if he were comforting her in the same way that he had done countless times before.
"I don't wanna keep living without you." Amelia sobbed.
"I know, I know... But I believe that you are stronger than you know. You have to believe that too." his voice continued, but there was a distinct note of sadness in his words, as if he was speaking to himself as much as to her.
"I don't want to do this alone." her voice broke as she spoke, the tears beginning to flow freely down her cheeks once more, as she felt overwhelmed by the loneliness that accompanied the grief.
"You're not alone, and you never will be." He spoke with a softer, reassuring tone, his words comforting, though she was still unsure whether she believed his reassurances, as her heart continued to break.
"Don't go." she whispered, the words barely audible, her voice hoarse. "Stay with me."
"I'm not going anywhere." the voice continued, sounding even more sympathetic now, as if it were a soothing embrace to her own frazzled mind and emotions, as if it could erase the pain of her loss, and comfort her.
Amelia was unaware of the fact that she had finally fallen asleep right there on the floor of her room, the exhaustion finally having taken its toll, as she had spent countless nights unable to get a good night's sleep. Her exhausted mind was still caught in a surreal and dream-like state, and she wanted to believe that her brother was still there in her subconscious, even though she knew it was just her imagination playing tricks on her.