METHOD OF MADNESS ━ 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝐒𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐛𝐲 ¹ (Under editing)

𝓋. 𝓉𝓌𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓎-𝓈𝒾𝓍: hypocrisy

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : bend - volumes

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v. twenty-six: ❝hypocrisy❞

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Small heath, Birmingham

Days had drifted by since Marianna and Tommy had exchanged nary a word, their silence a chasm as wide as the troubles that kept them apart. Each was lost in their own mire of miseries, too weary to bridge the gap between them.

For Mari, the nights were plagued by infernal dreams—visions of past misdeeds that clawed at her conscience. The voices in her head screamed at her, insisting that her actions were divinely sanctioned, that the man she had wronged deserved every bit of punishment that came his way. Yet, their accusations did little to ease the shame and fear that gnawed at her, leaving her adrift in a sea of doubt.

It felt as though she were trapped in a personal hell, despite the cool English wind and the harsh reality that she was still among the living. At 9 a.m., she was perched atop the hill where she often went to draw, the lingering humidity from the morning drizzle mingling with the forest floor, much like the restful slumber she had yearned for these past months.

Marianna lay sprawled on the dewy grass, her eyes closed, lost in thought, basking in the feeble warmth of the sun that peeked through the British mist.

It wasn't until the sky began to darken that she opened her eyes, only to find Tommy standing over her, casting a shadow over her pale skin. He had intruded upon her fragile peace, and she made no move to greet him, her irritation plain as she shifted her position.

"What're you doing here?" She snapped, irritation lacing her voice.

"Why aren't you at work?" Tommy's voice was blunt, demanding answers as if he had any right to disrupt her solace.

Mar rolled her eyes, mentally cursing his interruption. She thought to herself, Why can't this man just come straight to the point rather than start with pointless chatter?

"What is it, Thomas?" She asked, cutting straight through the pleasantries.

"Tommy." He corrected sharply, disliking the sound of his full name from her lips.

Mar's expression darkened, a scowl forming on her lips as she shot him a disdainful glance. "I'll call you whatever I bloody well please. Whether it's bastard or bugger. What do you want?"

Tommy hesitated, his polished black boots scuffing the verdant grass beneath him. He seemed to be grappling with the right words. "It's not me. I might not swear on the Bible, but I'm telling you the truth. I didn't have a hand in Freddie Thorne's arrest."