Somebody That I Used To Know

Questions

Tom sits at the kitchen table, researching on his phone.

"What are you doing?" Molly asks and sits next to him.

"Um... nothing much."

Molly moves her head to look at her husband's phone, he's on a court website. "Are you taking a case?"

"No," Tom quickly says and shuts his phone off. "I'm just... looking."

"You should. This is unfair to you."

"Life isn't fair, Molly, that's why this happened, I'll be fine. Lil wanted to go to the pool today, we could take her."

"It's a little chilly."

"We can stay indoors."

"Alright," Molly sighs.

"What's wrong?"

"I just... I'm uncomfortable being out with Matt released."

"Molly, darling, he won't hurt you. He wanted nothing to do with you."

"I don't like being out with Lillian."

"You have nothing to worry about."
Tom eases. "The only way you or Lillian would be effected is if it was a way to get to me. And if that was the case, I'd go through all of that again to keep both of you protected."

"It'll effect our daughter if her father is attacked, Thomas." Molly snaps.

"We can't live our life hiding away in this house. I did that for months and it wasn't good for my mental health."

"It wasn't good for your mental health because you were previously horribly traumatized. Our daughter is not."

"Molly, I'm not doing this again. I'll go upstairs and tell Lily to get ready, alright?"

"Okay, honey." she sighs.

Later That Day

"Alright, kid, you ready?"

"Yeah!" Lily exclaims and starts to run towards the pool.

"No, no, no," Tom says. "Slow down, darling."

"Sorry, Daddy."

"It's okay, love."

Lily waits for her parents and takes Tom's hand. They walk down the steps into the pool, staying in the shallow end.

"Do you want to go to the deeper end?"

"Mhm."

Tom holds his daughter in his arms and they walk to the 5' end.

"Daddy?"

"Yes, Lils?"

"What's on your arm?" Lillian asks, pointing to the collection of scars on his left arm.

"Lillian Claire Hiddleston," Molly snaps, staring daggers into her daughter's eyes.

Lillian clings tighter to Tom. "Why are you mad at me, Mummy?" she shyly asks.

"She's 4, darling," Tom says. "She doesn't understand."

"Please don't be mad, Mummy."

"I'm sorry," Molly groans into her hands, looking at Tom to see how to respond to this question.

She'd never asked him what they were before. He wore short sleeved shirts and wasn't embarrassed of the scars anymore, so they were showing quite a lot.