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ғᴏᴜʀ 𝐴𝑟𝑔𝑢𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐶ℎ𝑢𝑟𝑐ℎ
❦
Maria could already feel the oncoming battle that would be happening within her flat before she had even stepped into the building. It was quiet, the only sound in the hallway being the door clicking shut behind and the creaking of the old floorboards beneath her feet. There was no movement except her own. The whole house held its breath, waiting for her to step into the living room to see her brother and his wife sitting in silence next to the window.
Luca glared at her as she arrived, the tension that hung in the air immediately dropping as he forced himself to his feet. It was instead replaced with the pressure of his constant anger which now weighed heavy in her own shoulders. Beside her, Elena was looking panicked between the two. She had caught Maria's eye, whispering an apology.
"I'm sorry, I tried to cover but he insisted."
She shook her head in understanding. Maria had felt the wrath of her brother more than once in her life time and she had seen enough to know not to cross him in his state again. If anything, she felt sympathy for her. She had to deal with Luca each day. Even though she did love him, it must have been difficult.
"Where were you?" He demanded, watching with narrowed eyes as she sat in his place, her hand finding Elena's.
After her breakdown and moment away from the flat, she had felt her strength rebuild, her ability to be unaffected restoring to its high quality as before. She stared up at him, glossy eyes clearing as she rolled her shoulders back, like a boxer squaring off.
"I went to church." She said simply, her chin lifting in defiance.
Luca sucked in a breath, his breath quickening as his jaw jutted out. He was pointing at her, his hand close as if he was restraining himself from screaming out in anger.
"I told you not to leave. You can pray in your room if you need to." As he spoke, he managed to keep a calm and level tone, closing his eyes.
Maria choked out a scoff. Already he was restricting her- of her beliefs, her medicine and of her freedom. She stood up to her feet once again, scowling at him as she edged away from his stern finger.
"I'm not sorry that I find solace in faith rather than violence. I am sorry that I couldn't help you find it before any of this happened." She finally said. "But I won't give that up just so you can force me inside."
"What if something happens to you?" Luca shouted, making Maria shake her head and sigh.
"Then something happens to me." She said, her voice raising as she continued to step back.
"That will be on my head." He argued.
Maria was still as she stared up at him. He was the reason they were arguing. He was the reason she couldn't leave. He was the reason why she felt so trapped.
She knew what was going to happen in the coming months, of the danger and the petty violence. It was his fault. He had brought their family over from America with the cruel intent to kill. He had said it before: she didn't understand the need for a vendetta. At all.
Families that were born into crime, that survived from it like food and water, knew what what they were doing. They knew of the lives that would be lost and mess that would be made. So why couldn't they just accept it or prevent it from the first place?
"You say that and yet you don't understand what you have done?" She said, shaking her head in disbelief. "You're more far gone than I'd thought."
Heart heaving in her chest, Maria staggered backward, her hands falling onto the table behind. She could hear her own heart beat, smell her own breath, see the air that was released shakily from her lips. Maria could feel smooth paper beneath her fingertips.
"I should rip these up into pieces." She shouted, turning to face him with his letters in her hands.
The black hand symbol stared her down menacingly, in line with her own dark eyes. It was too much. Feeling like a pool of blood in her fists, her hands were stained crimson by the mere touch of it. She now carried the burden that would be sent.
She swallowed, looking him in the eye as she tucked her chin up again. Her gaze had faltered at his truth.
"You're right." She muttered. "I hate that you're right."
"I'm trying to protect you Maria." He pleaded with her, stepping forward to take her hand, but finding that it slipped easily from his grasp and into her own hold against her chest.
"I know." She whispered, her eyes refusing to look into his. "But what good is your protection when it's you that puts us in danger in the first place?"
If Luca's face could have glowered any more menacingly than it had, then he would have resembled a snarling dog. His jaw was twitching as he not back the cruel words that were building in his throat. He was fed desperately to tell her that she was wrong, that it was the Peaky Blinders who had caused it, who had everything coming to them from the beginning. Yet Luca saw the shattered expression in his sisters face, and pitied her, choosing not to answer. Had she known it, she would have resented him in that moment all the more.
"Elena." He barked, beckoning his wife to follow after him out the door.
The woman hesitated, glancing worriedly to Maria as she stood from the chair. Her hand was rested on her stomach, lips filled into a heavy frown that had become familiar since being in Birmingham.
"Elena." Luca called harshly from outside the room.
"Be strong." Elena moved to grip Maria's hands in her own, shaking comfortingly.
She smiled thankfully, glancing to her brother. "And you. Take care of yourself."
The room was left in silence as Elena left after Luca, her dark hair and olive skin disappearing from view and leaving it barren and lonely. Maria clutched at her chest, where the recognisable pain of desolation filled once again.
It had been a matter of days, and yet the conflict had already begun within her own family. The balance of love and control and never been a steady one, and Maria could see her brother being overcome by it, just as her younger brother had. Just like their father.
