Hold On

| 19 |

Thomas's words bounced off of every corner of my brain as I sat in my creaky chair. Although I understood him fully, I couldn't get through to understanding. Trying to focus during a Shelby meeting was nearly impossible. And it wasn't because I was distracted by my creaking chair, or the way my husband, John, watched me, but rather, the fact that I was hungry. I hadn't consumed lunch, or breakfast for that matter, and I was a little nervous that my stomach would growl in the midst of Thomas talking about some sort of horse race that he had to go to to collect money. I don't know, it all made no sense to me.

I realize now that this was the first time I felt hungry in a long time. I think I was sad for reasons that came back to me quite violently. Like how John slapped me, and pulled my hair as he forced himself on me. I feel like I am listening to the sound of our skin slapping together, my cries muffled by the hand he pressed against my lips. I taste the salt from my tears.

My eyes press shut, as I try to shake the memory from my clouded brain. I try to remind myself that John's sick, that's why this happened. That's why he hurt me the way he did, that's why this happened. That's why this happened to me.

I do what I normally do whenever things like this happen. Whenever I feel like screaming in a vengeful rage, I open my eyes and visualize Thomas and I. Even though we haven't spoken in a long time, even though things between him and I are hallow and vacant, I still notice things, I still see things, I still dream.

I miss Thomas more than I ever imagined I could. I was no longer fantasizing about us having sex, but now, it was of holding him after we shared the bed. Holding him, feeling his body weight on top of me. I imagined us laced in each other's arms, our limbs still. Him, warm inside of me, as he leaves sloppy kisses on my shoulder and neck.

I imagine us holding each other, his soft kisses so perfect. I would do anything to run my hands through his hair again.

"It's done." I would softly tell him.

My words sprung him back to life, and he'd draw back and have a line right in between his eyebrows.

"What's done?" He'd ask curiously. He looks at me with such an intense gaze, I hold my breath as he runs his fingers through my hair. "Hmm?" He asks, and smiles small.

"John and I." I whisper. "I'm yours, forever."

He chuckles, and I get winded by that. Tommy cuddles me and kisses my forehead. "I love you. So much." He whispers into my hair.

I broke into a smile at the thought now, and just as I did, a hand fell over my shoulder making me jump. I glanced up and saw John staring down at me.

"You alright?" He asks, a cigarette in mouth.

I nodded and rolled my shoulders, forcing his hand off of me. "Yeah."

He only looked at me with those bold eyes. I could tell that he wasn't happy with me, John only analyzed things his way, even if his way was criminal. He scratched his nose and grabbed my arm, forcing me to my feet.

"Come on." He rasped.

"Where are we going?" I whisper, breathlessly.

John was already pulling me towards him, and by the time my feet began moving, Thomas Shelby appeared in front of us.

"Alma, John." He says, sturdy and curt.

"What do you want?" John spoke harshly now. And I only imagine I'll get yelled at for this debocile.