The Hanging Noose

Sixty

Dottie scrubs at her skin vigorously as the water laps around her. Her nails drag along her skin as she scours the loofa harshly against her skin. She allows the water to hug her as she drops the loofa, bringing her knees up to her chest.

The feeling of Reggie Smith's colossal hands haunt her, the way they touched her skin, the fire she felt after every touch when they first met, the heat after every slap she endured, the boil after every punch thrown her way.

He was dead, yes, but his memory lives in. It lives on in Dottie's head, who struggles with the loneliness of the dark night. Reggie Smith lives in on her dreams as her consciousness punishes her. It draws out every punishment he inflicted on her, every word he spat at her, every fist he launched, every slap he gifted her.

She gasps, wiping her hair away from her face as the moonlight trickles in through the sheer netting. She had always preferred the moonlight to the sunlight, the moon always gave her a sense of comfort. She could be herself. Or the person she once wished she was.

She wipes her forehead, trying to rid herself of the memories. Her hand automatically gets drawn to her two bullet wounds, one scraping in to her chest and one alongside in to her shoulder. The first had been a gift to her, a reminder she was still alive after Grace was killed, and the second served as the start of a hunting memory.

When she thinks about the last few years, Dottie tries to forget the time she spent with Luca. Sure, he wasn't the worse to her, he fed her, and gave her water when she asked, but he also taunted her over her cousins deaths. After all, he had caused John to die and Esme to flee.

Dottie almost scoffs when she allows herself to think inside her head. She wasn't part of the family business, and yet she had killed two people. Neither innocent, yet their blood still taints her skin every time she's alone.

She breathes out as she hears footsteps approaching her door. A soft knock is then followed.

"Mama?"

Little Eliza. The best thing Reggie Smith could have ever given her.

"Yeah, baby?" Dottie responds, lifting her head towards the door.

"Florence is crying for you again," Eliza calls causing Dottie to groan as she pushes herself up from the bath.

"Alright, baby, I'm coming."

—

Micheal was coming home. Home to Biringinhan. The minute his ship set sail, Tommy was on edge. And once the ship was docked, his mood worsened. He ordered Polly and Dottie to greet Micheal, to get the truth out of him. He wanted the truth, he said. He wanted Dottie there so he couldn't lie. Because he wouldn't. Not in front of his sister or his nieces.

He had also ordered Arthur to greet him from the station. Dottie scoffed when she heard.

"Do you really need back up, Tom?" She asks, rolling her eyes.

"I don't fucking trust your brother, Dots, so yes. Fucking yes," Tommy argues back. "Just take the girls with you, and do what you're told."

The girls, Dottie thought, he wants the girls there to soften him. To coax the truth out of him. What fucking truth?

"My brother wouldn't betray you, Tom," Dottie says, "I will go, and when he says the truth, I expect a new car."

So the deal was done. Dottie took Eliza and Florence to the train station to meet Micheal. She drove behind Polly and Arthur, and watched how they stood accordingly, Polly against the car and Arthur half hidden in a red glowing phone box.