Tommy's POV
Of course he's mad at me. I wanted to tell him about the guns earlier but I just hadn't found the time yet. Also, since he's not doing that great emotionally... I maybe waited too long on purpose. Tonight could have gone so wrong and I'm relieved it ended with a head wound, not a fucking head shot. After I helped him fix up his wounds, Arthur made his way out of John house to The Garrisson. I told him the whole story and even though he sort of understands, he's mad I left him out of this.
It's around 06.00 a.m. and I still haven't had any sleep. I walk upstairs to get Vive because I want to go home. I softly open the door of Johns bedroom, seeing if she's asleep or not. Her head turns my way.
"We're going home Viv, come" I say. She immediately gets out of the bed, passing me by without giving me a look and walks downstairs. God, this behaviour is exhausting. I know I have to deal with her too. I surely haven't forgotten about her state last night, but right now... I need some rest first.
"John, I'm going home. Keep me updated if you hear something from Arthur alright? I'll check on him tonight." I whisper as I walk downstairs, making my way out of the house. Vive already walks a few meters in front of me, making clear she does not want my company right now. I let her, not keeping her out my sight. She wraps her coat tightly around her. I bet she hadn't slept that well either. I get my cigarets out of my pockets and light one. I look up, breathing in the air of Small Heath. The streets are empty again and the lake is half frozen.
I know I'm the one responsible for all this mess, but I can't undo what's already done. Now, the only thing I can do is keep my family safe, which seems a bigger challenge than I would have thought in the first place.
Suddenly, Vive stops walking. She hesitates before turning to her side as she starts to throw up in the middle of the streets. I throw my cigaret behind me and immediately run up to her. She's leaning with her both hands on her knees as another load of puke ends on the ground. When I arrive to her side, I try to keep a little distance and I look at her.
"You alright?!" I ask. She's still bent over and she whines a little. I can't see her face expression because of her long hair hanging down. There's puke all over the toes of her black boots. I now take a step closer trying to put her hair to the side waiting if there's more to come. After a few seconds she comes up again, stepping backwards away from the puke and turning her face from mine.
"Go away from me." She says, continuing her walk, still a little staggering. She lets out a sob and a cough quietly. I fasten my pace to get to her side, but again she steps away from me.
"Viv, come'ere" I try sticking my arm out to hers, wanting to help.
"Go away" She snarls back a second time.
I'll let her. Was she sick already? How'd this happen so suddenly. Maybe it's because of the stress of last night... otherwise I wouldn't know. The thought of that makes me feel awful and even more guilty than I already felt.
After a little while we arrive at the house. Vive goes upstairs in one line, not getting rid of her coat and shoes first. I decide to not follow her since I think that'll make the situation even worse.
I hang up my coat and enter the kitchen. I see Arthurs money is still out in the open on the table, which means Polly is not home yet. Otherwise she would have put it away. I get myself a bottle of rum and settle down in a chair in front of the fire place. Trying to get some rest.
Upstairs, I hear Vive being busy in the bathroom. I hear her using the water, dropping stuff on the floor, closing and opening doors and drawers and after a few seconds, I hear her throwing up again.
*sighs* What the fuck.
Vive's POV
God, I don't know what's going on but ever since I left Johns house I feel super nauseous and dizzy. I tried to hold it in on the streets but I couldn't. I'm just so fucking tired and where the fuck are my painkillers?! I try to look for them in the bathroom but I can't find them anywhere.
I rest my hands on the sink in the bathroom and try to breath through the nausea but again, I can't hold it in. Luckily, this time I throw up in the toilet and not over my shoes. I try to do it without making a sound but as you can imagine, that's an impossible task .
Tears are streaming down my cheeks as I keep throwing up. Not because I'm crying but because my body folds from the inside out. I hate the feeling. After a few seconds, I feel like I can come up again. I quickly flush to toilet and sit on the side of the bathtub, waiting if there's more to come.
I hear Tommy coming upstairs. I don't want him to, but expected him already since I know he must have heard me. He slowly opens the door and stands there for a moment. I let out a small sob, wiping my mouth with the sleeve of my jacket staring at the toilet.
"What's going on?" He says softly, still standing in the doorway.
I shrug my shoulders, "don't know..."
He now enters the bathroom, opening the drawers to look for a clean cloth. When he finds one he keeps it under the water, waiting for it to run warm. He walks up and bends in front of me. He wipes my face softly with the cloth, cleaning the sweat, tears and puke that's still there. He brushes with his fingers through my long blond hair to sort of fix it and puts it to my back so it's out of my face. I finally look up at him. He looks sad.
After he's done with fixing my face, he fills a glass with water and passes it to me. "Here, drink this." he demands. I do as he says and give him back the glass as I finish the drink.
"Did you get any sleep tonight?" he asks. I shake my head, looking at the ground again. "Hardly."
He sighs "you're probably overtired, that's why you feel sick. You need to get some rest."
Fifteen minutes ago I was extremely mad at him, but now... I don't know. Me being mad at him never lasts that long. Also, I'm just really, really tired and I'm thankful he helps me right now. When I see his face I realize he hadn't slept either. He leans against the sink with his arms crossed looking pale and exhausted too.
"I go to bed" I say, passing him.
"Wait, please I ..." He sticks out his hand, stopping me from walking further.
"I... I didn't... it's just..." He continues, but can't form any proper sentences while shaking his head.
I release my arm from his grip, walking to my room. Leaving him there. Not ready to talk nor accept his apology as I think his talk was going that way. I close the door behind me and get rid of my coat and shoes before I step into bed. My shoes are all dirty, but I will clean them later. I hear Tommy leaving the bathroom after a while and going into his own room as well.
I'm still a little nauseous, but it's a bit better than it was. I open my window before entering my bed. Making the musty smell in my room fade away. I close my eyes and start thinking about Arthur, the wound on his head. I think about the man with the stick, the man holding the gun to his head. I think about Finn, what would he had done in this situation? What would my mother had done? My brothers always say I look like my mother, so in this case that means my mother would be coward, just like I am. My mother was soft and too sweet. I don't want to be soft and sweet anymore. Everyone always says it's a blessing that I'm like my mother, but I experience nothing but cons. I'm weak, an easy target and I can't protect myself.
It's not that I want to be like my dad either, of course not, but I just... I know I need to toughen up to keep myself going in this family even though I'm only thirteen years old. As I think about all of this, Finn, my mum, I feel tears welling up again.
Being over emotional... need to work on that too. I cry easily and my feelings go easy from good to bad. I start to think about the time with my father. Sometimes I just couldn't hold back my tears anymore and he would always hurt me even more as soon as I started crying. With all my power I tried to prevent it, but I was too weak.
All these thoughts make me feel bad again. I don't want to sleep alone and I decide to make my way to Tommy's room. I don't want to be mad at him, I just... I don't know what I fucking want. Some rest in my life to start with, but I don't think that's for us Shelby's.
I put on my sleeping dress before I leave to Tommy's room. I knock at his door, not too loud. I wait but when he doesn't respond I enter his room. I see him trying to get rid of something he was smoking before I got the chance to see it. Too late. I try to ignore it and stay still in the doorway, holding on to the door nob tightly.
Tommy sits on the side of the bed, resting his elbows on his knees, looking at the ground.
"Can I stay with you?" I try, a little insecure about my question after sort of catching him doing something he obviously didn't want me to see. He looks up to me and nods.
"Of course, come here." He gestures to his bed.
"Can't sleep eh? How do you feel now?" He asks.
"Can't sleep alone and I still feel a little nauseous." I sit myself next to him on the side of the bed, leaning softly against him. He wraps his arm around me.
"Sorry..." I say. Feeling guilty for my behaviour in the bathroom earlier when he tried to be nice and talk to me.
He lets out a deep sigh. "You're the last person who needs to apologize."
Tommy's room is small and cold. When we started to live here he gave the largest rooms to me and Finn so we would have enough room to play. Now he has the smallest one.
"Come, under the blankets you." He stands up from the bed, pulling his blankets from the mattress, gesturing me to lay. I do as he says and he puts the blankets plus one extra all over me. He lays next to me, on top of the blankets. Apparently not bothered by the cold in his room.
"You good?" He asks as we both have taken our position on the bed. I nod. His bed is soft and I feel good because Tommy is here with me. I crawl into him and close my eyes. This makes me think about years ago, when I laid with him like this before he went off to war.
Luckily, he ain't going anywhere tomorrow.