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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐖𝐀𝐒 a fragile thing.
Caterina had come to realise it long before she moved into the Shelby household, when the trains, overflowing with tired veterans made their way back home, bringing in the hollow remains of the men once eager and willing to leave their blood and bones on the foreign soil for the sake of their homes.
For most of that men it only meant 4 more years of waging war inside their heads, instead of the trenches across the sea. They patched the missing pieces with poisoned smoke and hard liquor, pushing down the mud, the blood and the murky fog that enveloped their dreams in a deathly grip. Clear mind, soundness of sanity — it was a luxury far too few possessed.
With every day that passed, it chipped away, steadily, until one's left to grasp at the remains, nails dug in and crawling in hopes of retaining the picture of what they are.
Whiskey was easier to swallow than the fact they were broken beyond repair.
You sharpen your eye and polish your gun and get on with your day, and then another, and another. The numbness made it easier to kill, because, once you've killed the flame in your own soul, what difference does it make to take someone else's?
Cat shuffled through the creaking house, making last preparations before the reopening party at the Garrison. They were expected to appear at eight but it was ready well past seven thirty and she was nowhere near ready, with her hair still in the heated curlers on her head.
She walked down the hall to Arthur's room to see if he was in an agreeable state to head down to his pub. It would be inappropriate that the owner of the renovated pub didn't show up — there were some appearances that had to be kept up, after all.
The last thing she expected to find was Finn handing Arthur a tiny blue bottle, a familiar kind she'd seen in London clubs and, as of late, in women's toilet rooms at the races.
"Finn Charles Shelby!" She flung the door wide open, startling the man and the boy in the room.
The young boy whipped his head in her direction, like a child caught with his hand in the bowl of sweets. A shot of dread filled his stomach and he was well aware he'd be in a lot of trouble for this.
"How do you know my middle name?!"
"Ya middle name is Charles?" Arthur questioned, turning to look at this youngest brother.
"I raised your sorry arse like a mother and this is how you repay me? With doing powder? You're fourteen, young man!"
"I didn't mean nothing wrong!" Finn tried to justify himself.
"Give me that. Shoo!" Caterina pinched his ear again for a good measure, throwing him out of Arthur's room.
"Eh you've got a good grip on 'im Cat. Don't want him to end up like us ya know. All we've done in life is to make a better future for 'im, for John's kiddies." Arthur leaned with his weight on the roaring fireplace, finding solace in the way the flames danced above the coals. They were predictable, unlike him these days.
