A Mind to Tear a Soul in Two

Chapter Eighteen

A/N: A small chapter, but a chapter nonetheless!

She was going stir crazy.

She was a woman on the edge.

And it had only been four days.

The self-imposed quarantine — due to Tommy's goons hiding not-so-subtlety out front — was taking a toll on her. The anxiety over the whole ordeal was excruciating. With every day that passed she seemed to be making herself more and more ill.

She was tense, her muscles ached. Her stomach roiled, she made herself nauseous, and yesterday she got sick twice.

The dreams she was having — Ada called them stress dreams — sent her into a right fit every time she woke in the middle of whichever horrifying tale her mind had conjured. A scream on her lips, her lungs desperate for oxygen, and her body covered in sweat.

She'd had to explain to both Ada and Freddie why it was that she'd appeared like some sort of street rat on their front stoop, desperate for refuge.

Surprisingly, both Ada and Freddie had taken the news well — Freddie a bit more so than his wife. Ada's screech echoed in her ears, "Charlotte Shelby! That brother of ours will strangle you one of these days, and no one will be there to stop him."

In the days since, Ada had urged her sister to ring Tommy — just to let him know that she was safe. She thought it would help with her anxiety, but Charlotte couldn't muster the courage.

She knew he'd shout and holler, call her scathing adjectives: irresponsible, short tempered, childish, and the like. Or worse — he'd click his fucking tounge at her, calmly explain that she was expected home promptly, then end the call before she was able to get a word in otherwise.

An emotional Tommy was a safer Tommy. When he was calm and collected his mind was at work. Calculating and formulating plans in his mind, usually to make her suffer. When he was shouting, his emotions had taken over and there was no room for thought. He might haul off and give her a right whack over her head, but nonetheless she preferred an angry brother.

She wouldn't be able to handle it — not yet anyway. She needed a bit more time.

She'd heard Freddie ask Ada to lighten up. And she was thankful for his confidence, but she could tell she was on the verge of overstaying her welcome.

She knew she'd need to be on her way back to Birmingham sooner rather than later, but the day of her escape from Small Heath was so fresh in her mind it made her want to curl up and hide away — pretend as though all that nonsense had never happened. Make believe as though she'd never escaped to London. Never stumbled through the early morning cold and freezing rain, only to end up on Ada and Freddie's stoop — his face bewildered and her face knowing.

Feddie'd opened the door slowly, carefully, with most of his body hidden behind the door. He clearly wasn't over his days of being on the run, staying in safe houses, unsure if the coppers would descend on him at any second.

She gave a small, pathetic little wave, and when his brain finally realised who exactly it was standing before him, he opened the door further as he watched her curiously — clearly confused by her sudden appearance, as shown by his open mouth and furrowed brow.

From down the hall she could hear Karl whining and crying, and Ada questioning, "Freddie? Who is it?"

Finally snapping back to reality he grinned at her, "What kinda trouble you running away from now, eh?"

Still standing in the rain trying to wring her cap free of the dirty puddle it had fallen into, she tried to question innocently, "Me? In trouble? Why I never!"