𝐔𝐏𝐓𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋. ᵗʰᵒᵐᵃˢ ˢʰᵉˡᵇʸ

❥ ¹³breathe.. ꩜

TW : this chapter contains attempted
suicide and eating disorders.

TWO MONTHS LATER.
January, 1920.

TIRED. THAT WAS A WORD TO describe how Maggie felt (mentally and physically), and it was a good one. During the daytime, she would spend her time trying to distract herself with the watercolour paints she had bought one month ago and during the night she would cry continuously, and wake up screaming and shaking from night terrors of her Kitty and her parents.

Every second day, Michael would drop in when he could to check up on her — scared she might have done something. And every second day she'd lock herself in her bedroom, refusing to come out.

Michael was beginning to seriously worry about her. More than he was before. The blonde girl was practically a skeleton with a thin layer of skin. She was unhealthily pale and skinny, and not to mention the bags under her eyes.

The funeral of her father was approaching fast, faster than Maggie expected. Michael had sorted it all out. He had sent out the letters she wrote for the funeral, organised where her father was to be buried, even going as far as ordering lilies for the burial.

The week before the funeral Maggie finally left her bedroom and Mick took the opportunity to tell her about all this.

"You wouldn't have to go through all this trouble if I had decided to come home, it's all my fault." Maggie sobbed. Michael immediately began trying to calm her.

"Shh, none of this was your fault, Magpie. He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time." Michael mumbled as her hugged her, she sniffled in return.

"But it is my fault! If I hadn't of been there he wouldn't have drawn attention to himself." Maggie choked on her tears.

"Maggie, I want you to listen to very carefully. The only person to blame is the person who fired that bullet, and as far as I'm aware of you didn't have a gun in your hand." He said in that same Cork accent as always.

"What happened to your father was terrible, but it was not your fault. I can't bear to see you destroy yourself over something that wasn't caused by you." Michael whispered softly to her. She stayed silent, multiple thoughts running through her mind all at once.

"I've got to leave, Magpie. Promise you'll take care of yourself?" Mick murmured to her, he got no response from her so instead her wrapped a blanket around her, kissed the top of her and left.

Maggie made her way to the kitchen, her eyes landed on a cake placed upon the countertop that Mick had brought with him two days ago in hopes it would cheer her up.

She took out a spoon, taking bite after bite until the cake was finished — although she didn't enjoy it. She had forced the cake in her mouth, feeling sick with every bite.

Once the cake was finished she immediately ran upstairs to the bathroom, kneeling in front of the toilet and retching the food back up and into the toilet.

Once she was finished, she flushed the toilet, washed her hands, wiped her mouth and brushed her teeth to get rid of the taste and smell. Maggie turned to the bath behind her and began to run the water.

She peeled her clothes off her body and stepped in the hot water, sitting down in the tub. The blonde girl sat there for a moment before she slowly began to submerge herself under the water, both her hands secured on each side of the tub as her blonde hair swirled around her.

Maggie stayed under the water until she slowly began to loose consciousness, and eventually she did. But it was only for a few minutes before the door downstairs opened, someone called out — it sounded like a woman.