Nothing is, but what is not // John Shelby

XV

It was a cold, late afternoon. John was sitting by the warm fireplace. That day they killed Billy KImber. Even Tommy, who got painfully shot, smirked slightly to himself, drinking his whiskey. It was already getting dark outside. John felt the adrenaline leaving his veins, giving him nice comfort. They lost one man. Only one and one too many. He lost his eyes, focusing on the alcohol burning his tongue nicely. John's sons were yelling at each other in the kitchen, but he felt too good to try to calm them down. He was about to take another sip of his whiskey, while someone knocked at the door.

He didn't know why, but he took his gun with him, as he went to the door. In the other hand he still held the glass with whiskey and ice.

"Beth" he smiled, when he noticed the girl standing on the street. She was clearly cold, shivering a bit. "It's a bloody good evening, don't you think?" It was possible that he stuttered a little. Alcohol was making it hard to speak.

Beth looked at him. At the whiskey glass. At the gun in his hand. At his eyes, which were a little absent. She heard whispers about a shooting that happened today at the Birmingham streets. She didn't believe. She didn't want to believe in Maud's words. Until now.

"So you are one of them." Beth whispered, struggling to find her words. John's cheerful eyes slowly turned serious, when he was realising what the words he just heard meant. The girl took a step back, flinching when John looked at the gun in his hand. She looked at it too.

"Sweetheart—" he tried to approach her but she quickly took another step backwards. John froze when he met her fearful eyes. "Beth" his voice was more sober now but the change in his tone was not enough.

"No! Don't come near me" girl's voice almost cracked, yet it was still firm. She was sure about her words.

"Beth, let me—"

"The murder in the theatre" the girl cut off his sentence "Was that you?" This thought was not giving her any rest. She wanted to think that he was there because of the play. But why would someone like him, someone who didn't even know Shakespeare, would visit the theatre?

"John" the silence on his side, his parted lips trying to find the answer... Beth took another step back. Until now she had hoped that she would hear heated denial, reasonable explanations. But all she got was silence. She ended it with her steps, as she quickly walked away, not wanting to look at John any longer.