Clipped Wings

XIIII

July 1st

"Margaret!" Finnegan shouts as he lay strewn across his arm chair a glass filled with amber liquid in hand.

The curtains obviously drawn he wasn't about that sunshine life Harper was. Turning around so he could check the door way scoffing at how slow she was being.

"Margaret !! I'm not paying you to watch fifty shades grey or whatever you do when I am not looking. I am paying you to do as I say so get the fuck in here." Finnegan snaps downing the thimble amount of liquid in his glass slamming it on the coffee table to the left of him. Staring at the painting above his fireplace.

"What are you looking at." Finnegan shouts to the painting which was of a young girl in a cream dress with fair hair in a bun.

"Yes Mr Ridley what can I help you with." Margaret says her hands firmly interlocked with each other.

If she wasn't being paid a decent amount of cash she would have suffocated the insufferable twat. That would teach him for calling him her at every waking hour for the most ridiculous demands. The worst being at three in the morning after going on a bender with god knows who doing god knows what he order Margaret to make him a cheese and red onion toastie because he was hungry. Obviously she did but funny thing was when she bought it up to his bed he was sound asleep.

"Tell me which shirt the classic Ridley white or should I change it up and do the red?" Finnegan asks pouring himself another glass of the whiskey turning around to face Margaret again to gauge her response.

Downing the amber liquid as he waited for her response fixing what looked like a million different rings covering his fingers in all different colours and designs. Including one that was a blush pink and another that had his initials engraved on it. Looking at the shirts he wondered why it was taking her ages to decide could she see. Did she need her eyes tested?

"Give me an answer woman !" Finnegan barks as Margaret rolls her eyes at his outburst clearly not effected by his mood swings any more.

"Red also you reek like a whole liquor cabinet. You aren't going out any where." Margaret answers and Finnegan pouts throwing himself back into the sofa in annoyance.

"I do not. I shall spray my self with my signature scent ... Guilty Pour Homme Black by Gucci. That should cover it and fuck the red I'll stick to white it has the pulling power. granted it shows up the blood but its the price I am willing to pay." Finnegan dramatically states slamming his glass down on the coffee table again before pulling the white shirt from his curtain rail putting it on.

"Where are you off to?" Margaret pries but Finnegan waves her off not wanting to speak to her anymore she had done her job.

Scoffing in annoyance Margaret walked out of the room slamming the door shut behind her. Rolling his eyes at how dramatic Margaret was being for him sending her away suddenly. He didn't smell like booze , ok it he stunk a little but no one cared when he walked in a room. She wouldn't care would she he thought.

"You're an idiot Finnegan. You had her in your arms and you tried to kill her. When will you learn." Finnegan mumbled to himself as he did up the buttons on his shirt.

Finnegan held her tightly in his arms her chest flush against his as he kissed the top of her head. His right hand stroking the back of her head as his other intertwined with hers swaying slowly. The light sound of a piano playing Clair De Lune in the background. The sun tickling the ground as it finally began to set. Day inching closer to night but the two of them didn't care they were focused on each other and each other alone.

"Don't ever leave me." She mumbled against his chest as Finnegan kissed her forehead again. Her eyelashes tickling his bare skin where his shirt lay open. As her warm breath danced on his skin making him feel like he was walking on air. His eyes shutting for a moment to fully immerse himself in just the two of them swaying to the music.

"Never my dear." Finnegan whispers watching as the sun almost completely gone.

The two of them only just lit by the fairy lights around the garden.Focusing on her breath and the way her heart beat melded with his so effortlessly. Noticing how the hem of her dress tapped him lightly when the breeze picked up in the garden. It wasn't in a menacing kind of way it was comforting to feel her , to know she was there in his arms and his arms alone. If this was love he thought he never ever wanted it to end. He wanted to stay in this moment for the rest of eternity.  A deep cackle erupted from behind them. His eyes snapping open from their daze the music abruptly stopped with a squeak.

"Fuck off!" Finnegan exclaims to no one in particular pouring himself out a double measure of the amber liquid downing it in an instant before pouring himself another.

Storming over to one of the many painting he had up in his room clawing at the picturesque garden landscape. His claws digging into the canvas with one swoop a disgusting tearing noise resonating through the room he was in. Smashing the frame over his knee he trudged back over to the coffee table fists so tight his knuckles turned bright red disregarding the cup he went straight for the decanter swinging back the liquid to his hearts content.

"Stop staring at me you fucking bitch... you caused this you ... you did this to me." Finnegan shouts pointing the bottle angrily at the painting that hung above the fireplace in the room.

Smashing the bottle on the floor when it was finished storming over to his liquor cabinet. Ripping the door off its hinges not bothering to search for the key Margaret had clearly hidden from him. Throwing it to the floor with a crash the glass shattering into a million pieces. Grabbing the first bottle he could find.

"Smell like a liquor cabinet do I Margaret. I'll show you what it really means to smell like a liquor cabinet." Finnegan mutters pulling the top off the decanter with a pop disregarding it on the floor.

Turning to stare the painting above his fireplace a stare that could not be broken as he downed the bottle of alcohol in what felt like an instant. Dropping the bottle on the floor letting the glass cover his feet ignoring the little cuts each shard made. A few drops of blood seeping out of his skin.