AN - WARNING - VIOLENT MATTERS
She sat there for a long time, staring at his tombstone. Jade was quiet, didn't do or say much. I'm sure she spoke to him, but only in her mind.
I stood behind her, allowing her to do whatever she pleased. Jade meant a lot to me, that was for sure, and I didn't want to be a bother.
My memory jogs back to that day. The day I walked in on her leaning over her dead brothers body, crying over him as she bled to death. Protecting him from God knows who. I hated to admit it, but Jacob was dead long before Jade came to him.
Oliver was on his knees, erratic and screaming. I couldn't help but feel, for the first time, panic. Sheer, panic and loss, and hatred, and fury. I wanted to strangle Oliver and put a gun to my head for leaving my wife!
Because whether I wanted to admit it or not, had I not left her side, none of this would have happened...
Sometimes I find myself wondering how Jade is alive. Not because of the physical trauma, but the mental strain she's had to endure. She's seen so much, witnessed the worst. Her baby was pulled out of her as the doctors sealed the gashes all over her body up. She told me about seeing her mum dead, she was young at the time. The woman has been through an unfathomable amount of unfortunate events.
She managed to wake from that moment, and continue to live her life, it was something I had a hard time wrapping my head around. She didn't have any family left. Both of her parents, dead, her uncle was a fuck up. Her brother was murdered before her eyes. She only had me, and who the fuck am I, except the man who nearly let her bleed to death?
The truth was, when I towered over his Oliver's body after the initial and fatal shot, Jade was laying on the ground, on her chest, choking on her blood. I needed to ensure that Oliver was dead, so I pulled the trigger over and over again until he was no longer. My fingers didn't shake. And only when I was out of bullets, did I run towards Jade. She was unconscious by the time I rolled her onto her back. I was screaming, unable to do anything. I was useless, and for the first time in my life, I felt useless.
The day I took an axe to Oliver's lifeless body and buried his scattered remains in our backyard was a day my idea of faith, and God, and a higher power disintegrated.
The truth was, even though that fucking dick was dead, I first took a crowbar to Oliver's temple and swung as hard and fast as I could have possible. There was a soft cracking noise I cannot let go of. Then, I figured since I had to get rid of the body, I grabbed the axe I had used to cut the wood for the fireplace. Hacking off bits of his body and throwing him into a barrel. I walked off with a shovel and the cHopped up pieces of his body, Oliver was buried that night.
That moment, I lost myself, and every idea I had of being a decent man.
I could never look at myself the same again.
The truth was, after the whole Oliver ordeal, I went completely mad. My drinking got out of control, I was tormented because I became this monster. A killer who couldn't control himself. What kept me awake at night, was I missed feeling that axe in my hands.
I missed the pain I brought Oliver.
"Tommy?" She beams, I turn and look at her. I watch as she stands before me, a scar on her cheek dances across her skin. But it's her eyes I ache for.
She's become a part of me that I will never let go of, and I will die for. She makes me laugh, and joke, and blush, all the things I never did before. When we're apart, I hold my breath until I get to see her again. There's no such thing as borrowed time with her. No matter how many times I tell her, I love you, she won't be able to wrap her head around the amount of true love I have for her.
I want to go back to London.
In this moment, I remember the day she ran outside of the house we once owned. The castle we shared, she was racing down the backyard in nothing but her dress. I was chasing her with the hose, after she had playfully gotten me wet as I had watered the plants. Her laughs filled my ears, as she ran freely. My wife.
I ease into her and mesh my lips with hers.
She smiles against my lips and pulls away. "I love you so much." She whispers, resting her head on my chest.
I run a hand through her hair and smile, my thumb rolls over her skin. Her cheeks are cold. I tug her towards the car, "Come on, let's go home." I tell her.
"Let's." She replies, allowing me to guide her to the car.
*
"Do you want a turkey sandwich, love?" I ask as I cut mine in half. The sound of lettuce crunching through the knife satisfies me.
I look up, not hearing a reply and glance over to the cough Tom was laying on. His eyes are shut and he breathes slowly. He's asleep. On the coffee table sits his drink, a nearly empty glass of whiskey. Poor thing must've knocked out after having a sip or two.
I grab half of my sandwich and walk over to him. I don't think about anything now, but my beautiful, blissful, sleeping husband. He looks so innocent as he lays sprawled on the grey couch. He had gotten everything furnished yesterday when we were away at The Garrison. He wore his shoes still, and I couldn't help but put down my sandwich to help him out of them.
I undid his laces, making sure to be quiet before slowly taking off his shoes. I placed them on the floor and moved to the table where my sandwich laid. I chewed on it and tasted the grainy bread break down, I can still hear his annoying voice: Jade, you better eat! Oi! Don't even start with me.
I almost roll my eyes at the memory.
I frown at him, thinking about where this all came from. And how much we've changed as a couple.
After Tommy killed Oliver, he began the drinking excessively, he began coddling me. And I don't blame him, how the hell could I? I was the one who sprung this up on him! Tommy didn't know who the hell Oliver was before he met me.
Tommy had to kill Oliver because of what he had done to me, what he had done to Jacob. He had to, Oliver shattered me, Tommy was left with no choice. Tommy killed Oliver because he knew Oliver wasn't going to stop and we couldn't go to the police because the laws for men like Oliver are minimal. The police wouldn't be as strict as they should fucking be. And plus, Oliver had no sense of stopping, even if the police punished him or locked him up.
Oliver had to be stopped, and I was too much of a fucking coward to do it, so, my Tommy did.
Tommy walked in on Oliver crying out for pain, a gun in his shaky hands. I was dozing in and out of consciousness. Tommy later told me that when he walked in to this chaotic scene, he panicked, Tommy fired off his weapon various times.
Tommy grabbed my body, he picked me up and rushed me to his car. I was in his arms for a long time. He said he didn't want to let me go, I was numb, and cold, he thought I was dead. I was losing blood, my body was hurting but all I wanted was his lips on mine. I wanted to thank Thomas for killing Oliver.
Something he'll never understand is that by him killing Oliver, that doesn't make him anywhere near less of a human being. It makes him my hero. In my eyes, Tommy saved me from death.
As I look at this human being who beats the shit out of himself after Oliver's death, as I look at my husband Thomas Shelby, I know he will never, ever turn into a monster.
