Sorcha Devlin never planned to find herself across the Pond stationed at the Thorpe Abbotts base, but as a promise to be close to her younger brother, she landed in this position. Cormack Devlin, younger by 2 years, was training to become a fighter...
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Cormack DáithiDevlin came into the world at 9:57 AM, December 13, 1922. Born to Aodhán and Fidelma Devlin as their second child and first boy, Cormack was well-loved. The boy had been cradled carefully since birth, and his mother and father constantly doted on him. In typical cultural fashion, sons were treated differently than daughters, Cormack being no exception. His mother and father tread carefully with him, taking all the measures possible to ensure he was protected and fostered to become a great man. As he grew, Cormack found one person in the family who didn't treat him as special or fragile. According to the family, the young boy's first word was 'sissy', in reference to his beloved older sister. Since he could talk and walk, Cormack was stitched to his sister's side, following her wherever she went. Nothing was off limits for the two, if Sorcha jumped, Cormack would jump higher. Whatever she was playing, studying, watching, or reading, he'd be tucked beside her trying to comprehend. Their parents and neighbors took note of the bond, often joking that the two were meant to be twins, but God spared their mother from the chaos that would have ensued.
Cormack Dáithi Devlin died on October 7th, 1943 at 6:43 am.
"- I'm sorry, Sorcha. According to interrogation, he went down while escorting one of the earlier squadrons. They said he was defending a B-17 from the Luftwaffe, and saved the fort before..." Jack ran a pale hand over his face as he sighed, "I'm sorry."
Pain spread through Sorcha's chest, somehow sharp and slow at the same time. Almost as if her heart had been speared by a knife or an arrow, the blood spreading around the wound little by little, finding new areas to stain. Her lips trod a fine line between gaping and closed, taking its time to decide whether wails would escape or not. Time seemed to stop around her, Jack's wary movements appeared in slow motion, his mouth moving, and yet Sorcha heard nothing. She saw the pained faces of her friends, contorting into a mixture of deepening lips and wrinkles among their brow lines. Sorcha knew they were speaking as well- but their words fell on deaf ears. An ongoing battle between her body and mind emerged, half begging her to let out some form of emotion, whether that be falling to the floor or letting out a small tear. She could feel her body unconsciously trembling in preparation to let out any form of grief. Though it was her mind that reigned victorious, too lost in the whiplash and overwhelming anguish. Sorcha felt trapped in the moment, too scared to break from her position and unwilling to face reality.
A hand belonging to Lilibet wrapped itself around Sorcha's shoulder, causing the girl to face her. Lil's face was one of a mother, seeping comfort and sympathy.
Sorcha wanted to be sick.
A singular thought broke through the swirling gates in Sorcha's mind, in what world would Cormack be dead? If the God she prayed to every morning and evening could hear her, why would he let something so terrible, so merciless, happen to her baby brother?
Breaking eye contact with Lil, she felt a small twinge in her arm, comparable to an itch, a need to escape. Sorcha looked around the room at all the distressed faces, their silence deafening as they waited for her next move. Without a word to anyone, Sorcha burst free from Lil's grip and rushed out of the office. While there may have been cries of protest to her reaction, she couldn't hear anything over the sound of her heartbeat pounding.
