John Shelby Imagines

With the angels

Gunshots and bullets. They rattled around your head for months, giving you migraine after migraine. Every time someone slammed a door, an imagine of blood came to your mind. John, Micheal and yourself laying in a pool of red, all injured.

You remembered the day so vividly. You and John has a argument, just like a normal couple. It was such a minor, inconvenient thing. But if you could take back everything you said to him, you would. He stormed out of the house, with a gun, needing to take his anger out on something. Something caught your eye though. Guns pointed at the house, from all different directions. John didn't listen to you though as you and Micheal ran after him and by then it was too late. In a fit of rage he shot at the hay barrels, not knowing there were men behind them. All it took was one shot and bullet from John, and your world would be upside down. You prayed that the guns you saw were from some men that were hunting, but you were wrong. Round after round after round of bullets fired back at him, piercing through skin, muscles and organs, a deep red staining the patio, before he even tougher the ground. All you could do was watch as the light left his eyes. His once flushed skin went white like a sheet of paper. The once annoyed expression, turn into one which was much more chilling.

Then Micheal was shot at. Bullets being shot into his abdomen. The men obviously wanting to give him the most painful death they could. It was almost slow motion, the man you loved die and then his cousin. Micheal wasn't dead though, he was alive. You thought to yourself that the only way you could ever make up to John for, was at least letting his cousin walk free and back home. In the time it took for John to die, Micheal to get injured, you too also got shot. The bullet was wedged in your foot but your heart was hurting more then your foot. You fell to the ground, wanting the men to think you were dead and it worked. Eventually, the bullet fire stopped and silence echoed around your Manor House. The gunmen left on the cart they came with. You looked over at your dead husband, letting nothing but a tear run down your face. You rushed over to Micheal, remembering that he was still alive. Ripping fabric off of your skirt, you placed it onto the bullet wound on his stomach. "Hey, your ok, your fine, come on. Hold this" You spike gently as you passed over the cloth. You ran into the house, not caring I'd you tread blood on the freshly cleaned carpet. In the living room, was the alcohol cabinet. You ran over, swinging the doors open and searching for the whiskey. The bottle was right at the back, so you grabbed it, not caring that you smashed all of the bottles before it. You ran to the kitchen next, grabbed what ever you thought would help and ran back to Micheal.

When you got out side, Micheal was slowly coming in and out of consciousness. You nearly slipped on the blood the was splattered over the patio. "Bite on this" you said whilst forcing a towel into his mouth. You ripped his shirt and as he began to complain saying that it was his favourite shirt, you poured the whiskey onto the wound. He screeched in pain, the top half of his body lifting up off of the patio floor. You stabbed the needle through his skin, creating some sort of stitches. The goal was never to fix him, it was just to keep him alive. You worked on Micheal until Tommy arrived, who was called by Katie. Tommy took Micheal into an ambulance. You looked over to John. The man that you loved lied dead on his front door step. Guilt overwhelmed you. You crawled over to his body, examining it, taking in each one of the bullet wounds. "It's all my fault" you mumbled to yourself. "If I hadn't shouted at him, he wouldn't be dead". You slowly brought his head into your lap. A tear landed on his face, which was one of yours. You brushed his messy hair out of his face. His expression still one mixed with anger but also one of surprise and pain. You cradled his head closer to chest, wishing that you could take everything back, take back your stupid little comments and your arguments, just go back to have a normal Christmas, with the kids. But now you were here mourning and screaming for your dead love.

"Y/n?" A little hand touched your shoulder, bringing your out of your trance. You wiped your eyes and sniffed, not wanting John's kids to see you crying. You may not have been their biological mother but you treated them as if you were, so you needed to be strong for them. "You ok Katie?" You asked the little girl. You turned your body around to try and hide the sight of her dead father. "Is daddy ok?" She asked in a very small voice. "He's fine baby" You answered, your heartbreaking having to look and lie to the girl. "Are you sure?" You nodded bringing her into your arms, her head leaning into your chest. "He's just sleeping my love, yeah and he is going visit his parents with the angels". She pushed of off you "He's with the angels?" Her face lighting up slightly. "Yes love,he's with the angels." Tears clouded her eyes, you panicked slightly. "What's wrong baby?" "Will you still look after us even with daddy gone?" You laughed a bit. "Of course, and nothing is going to stop me" she smiled and ran into you, winding you in a hug. The pair of you giggled. "Now get back inside and we can open the presents with your siblings yeah?" You said as you ruffled her hair. The no more the 6 year old ran back into the house. Unwillingly, you turned back to John. "I miss you already my love. Stay safe with the angels" you said one last time before kissing his forehead and walking back into the house.