𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 ❨ michael gray ❩

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧

𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

The silence was pure. However, the echoing of Michael's walking stick sounded against the floor of the home on Watery Lane.

"I'm alright mum. We're all alright." Michael told his mother as she embraced the small family in separate hugs.

"Tommy I've been trying to think of words." Michael mumbled.

At this phrase Evelyn was confused. Throughout their journey back to Small Heath Michael had been acting strange. Ignoring statements and blowing off questions. So the continuous question invaded her thoughts...why on earth was her Michael apologising to Tommy?

"Words don't work. Michael, we're in a grave situation. Tommy has a plan. Instead of going to Australia, you're going to New York." Polly spoke, her eyes filled with a certain emotion Evie couldn't decipher.

"What? Pol what are you taking about?" The silence of the kitchen made Evelyn's blood as cold as the breeze that crept through the open window.

"The company has business in America." Ada replied shortly.

"Will I be coming back?" His face displayed nothing but pure anguish.

"No! Michael? Will someone please exain to me what the fuck is going on!" She yelped.

"Are you leaving daddy?" Rosie's eyes began to fill with unleashed tears. Her bottem lip trembling.

Before Michael could reply Tommy cut in.

"Your train leaves in an hour." He stated rather arrogantly.

"Michael I swear to God..." Evelyn trailed off. In the grip of silent panic, she had wild eyes, her pupils were dilated and her heart racing.

When she opened her mouth to speak the words came out fitfully, the sounds half swallowed by a sobbing noise. To her dismay she was crying almost too much to be coherent.

"You made a choice. You knew I was going to be shot and you chose not to tell me." Thomas spoke as the whisky he drank burned his throat.

"I chose my mum and my family." Michael murmed his hand grabbing Evelyn's.

"When all this business is over we'll all be free to make our own choices." Polly spoke her eyes glazed like broken glass.

"So that's it?"

"You get the train to Liverpool then the SS Monroe. Boat sails tomorrow. Now you can go."

"Thomas stop! Wh-why? Please explain what's going on!" Evelyn cried in such a desolate way that no-one in the small room could bare to listen for long. She had gone from gregarious to hanging by a thread, a transformation no-one knew how to reverse.

Evelyn's heart was void. The void was a mirror. She could imagine her face and feel loathing and horror.

"Tommy, look I don't know what happened. But please, I am begging you from the bottem of my heart. Please don't make him go!"

"And why should I let him stay?" Thomas spoke without raising his gaze.

"Because I'm pregnant."

Never before had Evelyn noticed how time is so much like water; that it can pass slowly, a drop at a time, even freeze, or rush by in a blink. In this slow time-bubble the birdsong was louder, coldness was colder and colours were brighter. All the while her insides felt as if there was nothing there, nothing to need feeding, nothing to have need of anything at all.