Small Heath's Angel

Chapter 13 - Atonement

Word Count: 2917

Tommy approached the door to the Masters home. His mind was racing; he couldn't tell if it was because it was late or because of everything that stood before him. It had been two weeks since he had almost strangled Florence to death, three days since she cleaned him and his brothers up, and his mind hadn't taken a minute to allow him to feel any sense of peace.

His knuckles tapped against the wood of the door. He tried to stand tall, keep his expression neutral, his emotions hat bay. The door opened and everything Tommy built up shattered.

Florence's eyes widened slightly. "Tommy, how can I help?" Her face was still a bit pale, eyes looking heavy, and bruises around her neck faded only slightly. The scratches down her wrists were still red and some were crusted with small blotches of blood.

Tommy tried to fix his uneven breathing. He gulped harshly as his eyes glanced between Florence's own eyes and her neck. "I—um." He took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment to recollect himself. 'What the fuck is happening to me?' he thought.

Her head tilted as her brows furrowed, eyes flooding with concern. God Tommy hated that. He didn't deserve her concern, not after what he had done.

"May I speak to you?" he finally asked.

Her brows relaxed. She nodded her head lightly, stepping to the side, beckoning him in. He carefully manoeuvred his way past her and into the house, taking in his surroundings as she locked the door behind him.

"Sorry, the house is a bit of a mess," she said, waving him into the living room. "Please, take a seat. Can I get you tea or whiskey or something?"

He cleared his throat. "Tea... please."

She tilted her head slightly and sent him a small smile. "Of course. Just give me a minute, and make yourself comfortable." She walked into the kitchen.

Tommy slowly approached the couch, studying his surroundings as he sat. A few books sat on various surfaces around the room, a folder of paper placed next to one. A single coat and a pair of shoes were around the room, clearly out of their usual storage space.

A bunch of white roses sat on the middle of the coffee table, their scent filling the room. Tommy shook his head at the idea this was considered messy. He'd seen far worse; had days when his own office was about ten times as messier. A small smile ghosted his face. 'She hasn't changed.'

His thoughts were interrupted by light singing coming from the kitchen. He turned his head, watching as Florence practically floated around the kitchen as she sang to herself; head nodding along and humming in between the lyrics.

Her voice was beyond soft, calming Tommy's muscles and thoughts.

"There's no faces

Won't grow back again
Broken pieces

Unmade
...
I swear there's nothing

Won't grow back again
I swear there's nothing

Come under my wings"

His eyes softened with each word. God she was angelic. Her voice, her movements, her... aura.

Her voice subsided as she picked up the tray with everything needed for tea and brought it to the living room. She placed the tray delicately on the table, pouring Tommy a cup. "Milk or sugar?" Her voice was just as light and eloquent as her singing voice.

"No thank you." His own voice was rough in comparison. She handed him the cup, their fingertips brushing lightly. Adrenaline rushed through Tommy's body. Fuck her fingertips were soft. She added a dash of milk to her own tea before crossing her legs underneath her on the couch and sitting down.