Small Heath's Angel

Chapter 11 - Trauma

Word Count:
2558

Florence gasped for air as she jolted up on the couch, sweat covering her body. She brought a hand up to her neck and felt pure relief once she realised her throat was clear of contact.

She slowly swung her body around so her feet could feel the solid ground. She rested her elbows on her knees as she swung her head down, trying to calm her body and mind.

The silence in the house was deafening. She couldn't decide if it's good or not. It allowed her mind to come back to terms with her surroundings, grounding her back into reality. But, it also caused her mind to cloud her senses with falsities.

Said silence was soon cut short by faint sounds of breathing, no, hyperventilating.

Without second guessing herself, Florence, quietly yet quickly, made her way up the stairs; determined to find the source of the noise.

It led to Tommy's room.

She cautiously opened the door, and was able to hear Tommy's immensely soft pleas mixed with his loud breathing.

She slowly crept to him, attempting to stay as quiet as humanly possible. Florence finally reached him and lightly touched her hand to Tommy's face, hoping she could ease him awake with a soft touch.

Tommy jerked up and grabbed what he saw as his attacker, around the neck as hard and as fast as he could, driving both of them into the ground as rough as possible; knocking his bedside items off the table while they were at it.

The air from Florence's lungs was forced out of her as she hit the ground, Tommy on top of her.

"Tommy!" She tried to speak as she gasped for air, "Tommy it's me-" Her neck was clenched tighter.

She was staring into Tommy's eyes. The problem was, Tommy wasn't there.

As the grasp on her neck was tightened, Florence's own vision became clouded; black.

She started thrashing around. Trying to hit her attacker as hard as she could.

She looked to her side and saw a gun.

She reached for it, getting closer and closer each time she stretched. Her head began to spin.

She grabbed the gun and cocked it.

Lined it with his head.

Finger set on the trigger.

He quickly seized it, the grasp on her neck loosening slightly, and pointed it at the roof where it went off.

Florence continued to thrash around.
Kicking.
Hitting.
Punching.
Anything she could.

Her attacker was finally pulled off of her. She used all the remaining strength she had to kick him as hard as she could in the stomach before moving her body back until she hit something, coughing violently as she tried to breathe. She barely heard the people talking around her.

"Florence. Florence, look at me." A woman crouched in front of her, placing a hand on her shoulder which she immediately slapped away and pushed herself further into the wall. "Florence, it's Polly," she said calmly.

Polly looked into Florence's eyes, noticing the same glaze that had been in the boys' eyes since they came back.

She connected the dots immediately.

"You're not in France, Florence. Not anymore. You're home. With me, Polly."

Florence blankly stared at the ground in front of her, her senses began to regulate.