Work Text:
Fractured Memories
Two glasses stood next to each other, plain water the contents.
They were a statement rather than a refreshment, both filled only up to around their middle rather than all the way to the top.
One half full, one half empty.
Michelle Mallon wasn’t normally interested in such trivial poeticism, that was the job of her best friend Erin, but this was no ordinary time. She could not help herself but do it, nerves tingling through her from head to toe, irrational actions determined to be rational in the heat of the moment. Fidgeting was quickly becoming the order of the day.
The Mallon household was unusually quiet for a Saturday.
This particular Saturday, the third one in October, was unlike any other.
Deirdre couldn’t be in the house, not today and being the supportive husband that he was, Martin chose to accompany her. Michelle could have counted on one hand the times that she caught her mother crying, yet twice in the prior twenty-four hours she’d heard the wailing and saw the tears dripping down Deirdre’s face. It wasn’t like she didn’t know it was going to happen, but it didn’t make it any easier when the time came.
Michelle could have been like them. Could have chosen the half empty glass, cutting a pessimistic streak that would have seen her join them. In some ways, she still wished she had when left battling with her own nerves.
She stood strong though, a familiar position for her throughout her life. Over many years she’d become a deft operator of shielding her own emotions, following in the same vein as her hardened mother’s usual demeanour. There were moments where she could not match her mother’s stoicism, and did allow herself to be honest, but her poker face could lower just as easily. An able cover to what she really thought and felt.
With James away at University in London, back in the grasp of her unbearable Aunt, there was no one else around. Ryan had long made plans to avoid having to be in Derry for the weekend, let alone anywhere near the family home.
That left just her. Alone and more frightened than she wanted to admit.
But she was excited too, perhaps too much for an eighteen year old.
This wasn’t just any old Saturday, but a day of reconnection and reunion, a day to move on from the sins of the troubled years to find a new ground. Still rocky, always unforgiving, but new. The Agreement wasn’t just a vote for peace but a vote for opportunity and new chances, which were to be extended to anyone or everyone.
No sides, just a wish to work for something better.
Niall’s homecoming was just that.
Her Mammy might not have been able to face up to it, but she was prepared to make the bridge that was required. Although she might have been at Uni for a month, Michelle hadn’t really started yet. This was the start of her new future, a future that her brother was going to be a part of. A future where his wrongs could be put behind them, even if they could not be entirely righted.
His wrongs were an understatement really. He’d killed a man. A man with a son, a family that grieved the tragic loss. The fella was a copper, with years of experience but nothing that could have prepared him for Niall’s brutality in his final moments.
She wouldn’t dwell on that though or would try not to at least, because it was so incredibly hard not to when for so long the events of mere seconds, dictated their lives. Deirdre could try to stop her from knowing the truth, but Michelle could read, and she could read people and infer details too. What he’d done to that poor fella was no accident as her Ma originally put it, it was murder. The intention may or may not have been there, but there was no doubting in Niall’s convictions when he struck the first blow.
But she wouldn’t dwell on it.
Nothing could change the fact that he was her brother and she still loved him. It pained her a lot to even think about him at times, especially when at her lowest. Throughout the years she’d remained loyal to the memories of their younger selves and that was her motivation, her fire.
They could pick up where they left off before he went to prison, long before where they were now. It wouldn’t quite be the same, change was inevitable, and she could cope with that. She just wanted him back in her life, contrary to what her parents might have wanted.
A door, very much a car door, slamming shut brought Michelle from her thoughts, her legs naturally carrying her towards their hallway. Opening the door for him would have shown far too much keen but not being in the hallway would have looked as if she was not bothered. Nothing could be further from the truth when it was all that she’d been bothered about since the back end of summer. That was also why she hadn’t yet grasped the business course that she was taking.
In her head the moment played out many times, all with the same dream-like ending that was her aim. The reunification of brother and sister, the beginning of a new era that would see them all back together as a family again. If she showed him the branch then Deirdre and Martin would learn to love him like they had done once, and they would be a proper family again under one tree. They could be what they always should have been until Niall’s poor decisions cost them such a bond.
Frantically she looked at herself in the mirror in the hall. Her attempt to conceal the bags under her eyes were poor at best, the signs of the restless night’s sleep she’d had still present despite the effort made. Her eyes were red too, the strain of her feelings unveiling themselves there to add to her burdens. On any other day she would have looked a complete mess and would have done something about it.
Not now though. Now it was too late.
Now it was time to hold her brother again, to allow memories of better times to weave their way through the fabric of their familial ties.
He didn’t bother knocking; she knew he wouldn’t. It was his home after all, even if he’d not seen it for a good few years, so there was no need for such formalities.
Michelle’s breath caught when her eyes first locked onto Niall, remembering the tall, raven-haired figure that she’d only been able to view in the one picture she’d hidden from her Ma, which was her memory of him. He was much taller than her, as tall or if not taller than James and certainly broader.
Although it was hardly a challenge to be better built than James, it appeared that the time in prison had seen her older brother fill out. Time seemed to suspend itself whilst she took in the sight of him, the disbelief in actually being able to see him again overwhelming her senses. Decked out in a plain shirt and jeans that were too short, exposing some of the skin of his ankles, Niall certainly looked about right for the area they lived in. Scruffier than some but blending in seamlessly.
That was another point she’d decided not to think of too much, how he might have presented himself. There were plenty of others around them that shared, and perhaps still shared, her older brother’s views. Some may have believed him to be a hero for what he’d done too. Yet now there was a conscientious attempt at breaking down the barriers that blocked the path to peace, and the support he once might have received was not so prominent in their community anymore. Not to a violent extent anyway.
Niall wanting to stay inconspicuous was an unrecognised consideration.
None of that mattered though because he was there now in the hallway, back home where he belonged. Back home with his delighted, if somewhat nervous sister, with a second chance to make something of the life he’d thrown away.
Christ but was she shiteing the tights.
Routinely snickering at Clare for cacking herself, Michelle was now taking up the role without the notes on what to do to calm herself. She usually would have her friends to pull her out of the mire, but this was a rare time when none of them were there to turn to.
They were all moving on with their lives as she greeted her past.
“N-N…Niall…”.
Banned from saying the name in the house for so long, it rolled shakily off her tongue when she finally dared to speak. Hands clasped in front of her, Michelle’s heavy eyes jumped around like kangaroos on a bouncy castle as her feet tapped a hole into the carpet.
On the one hand she felt elated, look elated even, but beneath the surface her stomach gargled a sick cry that sang a different tune.
Niall was finally home.
But for some reason, she couldn’t feel what she wanted to.
He was looking back at her without the warmth she saw in her dreams of the moment they reunited, lacking the same emotional release that she was prepared to give. A script of a cold, unloving welcome was portrayed across a face that already bore scars and scuffs for someone still so young. This wasn’t the brother she remembered, the brother that used to get into mischief with her and drive their parents insane.
All she could see was that man that he’d become, not the teenage boy he’d left. Not the friend she craved the return of.
“I wasn’t expectin’ a fuckin’ party, but is this fuckin’ it?” Niall scoffed, hands planted into his jean pockets. “Just you in the fuckin’ corridor”.
“I… I…”.
Internally, she was taking such a pounding that part of her brain still prevailed with the hope that he was making a light-hearted joke and would break out into laughter. Unfortunately, the realistic stream of thoughts told her he wasn’t, but that wavelength did not possess the answers of what to say in return when it was the road she’d blocked herself from traversing in the build up to his return.
“Nothin’ to fuckin’ say, Michelle? Fine”.
He brushed her off so brutally, so calmly, that it didn’t sink in for a couple of seconds, not until he pushed past her as well, heading off in the direction of the kitchen. A deviation from the script she’d replayed over and over, she wasn’t ready to face up to the facts that were trying to present themselves to her. He must have still been joking.
Everything about his actions and body language said something else though, and not stopping to greet his sister, Niall was quickly into the kitchen, looking around. They hadn’t changed a lot in any of the rooms, except one, since he’d started serving his sentence, the reasons for his eyes darting around being something completely different. His darkened, piercing stare was the indicator that his thoughts were very much angered ones. Perhaps much more realistic ones at that.
“Have ye been keepin’ well?” Unable to give in, a still hopeful Michelle trailed after him. “Ye know I’ve always thought about ye and what ye… what ye might be doin’ an-”.
“Who’s the water for?” He grunted, pointing towards the glasses.
“I dunno, I just… I just poured them”.
Not even bothering to answer, Niall grabbed both glasses and tipped them back. Some of the water ran down the side of the glass, trickling onto his plain shirt without him stopping to care. The way he drank it suggested he was famished, borderline malnourished.
“They not been givin’ ye water or what?” She asked, sniggering slightly.
“Of course they fuckin’ have”.
Once again gruff and unapologetic, Niall’s cold shoulder was beginning to cover Michelle in ice. Still she was trying to ignore the obvious, but for a millisecond her smile did fade when he did not look even look at her at all. Quickly enough it was gone and the façade she was trying to maintain returned, but the first match was struck.
Her hopes were being dashed whether she was willing to admit it or not.
“I… I’ve started University”. Changing the subject, she once again tried to break through to him. “It’s… it’s a big thing for me Niall, I’m… I’m doin’ a course on Business, so I am and I’m ye know… excited cos’… cos’…”.
A creaking sound stopped her.
When she looked up, he was not listening as he should. He wasn’t paying her any attention at all, instead rifling through the cupboards of the kitchen, still seemingly looking for something and not looking at reuniting with her. Reconciliation wasn’t on the fringes let alone the cards, though her tunnel vision prevented her from seeing it. Niall’s mind was elsewhere.
“We don’t keep chocolate here anymore or what!?” Snarling, he finally turned to look at her, practically wild eyed.
“We… we don’t have any”. Michelle tamely replied, picking up her fidgeting again.
“For fuck’s sake!” Niall shouted. “What the actual fuck is this, shite!? No one comin’ to get me, no fuckin’ chocolate, piss poor fuckin’ water…”.
“I-I can go and get some…”.
Staring at her as if she were crazy, he declined the offer with a shake of his head, his tongue pushed into his cheek. Stood with his hands on his hips, Niall’s head continued to shake as he dryly laughed to himself, in a world of his own.
On the other side of the kitchen table his sister retreated into her own world too. Michelle’s resistance was legendary to her friends, so often not conceding anything amongst them, but even such fight could be worn down. Desperately she clung to the thought that it was all a ruse or, as a secondary option, it was a process of time before Niall would become the brother she knew again, the brother she’d been praying to have back.
Prison was tough on him, tough on anyone and she was starting to realise her own naivety about it. He couldn’t just come back and be the brother she remembered immediately when he’d not seen proper light and day for years. He might not have been in for that long but the world around them had still changed a hell of a lot in that time.
Patience was what she was going to have to have, to allow him to adjust to the new world he was now exploring.
Except that wasn’t the truth. Blinded by her own agenda, Michelle still did not recognise that Niall wasn’t going to just need time or was struck dumb by what had changed since he went inside. He was reading from his own hymn book that was not full of the hallelujah’s of hers.
“Where are they then?”
October might have been a firmly Autumnal month, but the crisp, raking deliverance of his words brought the temperature of the room to a winter level. She shivered at the comment too, the ice pulverising her senses into a strange submission upon settling her eyes upon him after. There was accusation, anger and aggression in his statement, completely unfiltered and honest as if spoken from the heart. The dark heart she could not believe he held.
In a disturbed trance, she did not make any attempt to respond or question him, rendered utterly speechless again by her brother. Or whoever this was, when it was not the Niall that she was either wishing for or expecting.
At the other end of the spectrum, he wasn’t going to let her lull him into stalemate.
“Jesus… MA AND DA!” He yelled, Michelle quivering before him. “They out or what!? Or didn’t they wanna be here?”
“They erm… they’re out”. She whispered, still shaken to the core.
“They comin’ back?”
Trying to open her mouth, words did not fall out and that told Niall all that he needed to know. Disgust evident across his face, he shook his head, slamming his fist onto the dining room table. The shock of the slam made Michelle jump out of her skin, not that he noticed her fear when he was lost in his own rage. Years away from his parents and at the first opportunity to see him, they weren’t around.
Such a brutal cocktail could only brew hatred.
Storming off in a huff, Niall headed back towards the front of the house, scaring Michelle stiff into thinking that he was going again. Without a second thought she followed, her mind finally starting to plant the seeds of worry into her head that her hopes really were misplaced. If he was going to go after only coming home for a few minutes, then she was going to do her best to stop him, to try to reach out to him with a sister’s love.
“Niall, wait!”
Message ignored, he was still on a course for the front door. Stopping him was paramount, prompting her to spiel more words out.
“It’s… it’s been hard for Mammy, she… she…”.
“Hard for Mammy!?” Niall scoffed, without looking back. “What a load of fuckin’ shite! She doesn’t know what hard is!”
Shocked by his vicious rebuke of their mother, Michelle almost missed his change in direction. Rather than leave like she assumed he would, he rounded the bottom of the stairs to begin the climb up. There was a very obvious destination that he would be heading to, which was only going to heighten his clear anger.
Accepting that he was feeling that way, she knew she could not allow him to discover what would tip him over the scales. Not least when the change would directly challenge not only his pride but his outlook on the world too. The major change in the Mallon household occurred after he’d been sent to prison, and with Deirdre’s strict avoidance policy of visiting him, no word would have gotten to him since. Apart from possible rumours that may have drifted within the cells, but he was so far away from them that it was unlikely he would have gotten to know.
“Niall, stop!”
Not for the first time that morning, Michelle was ignored.
“Niall, please, stop!”
At the top of the stairs and in no mood to listen, he continued to ignore his sister, despite her good meaning intentions. The blow would be easier to take if he didn’t have to see it with his own eyes first, she reasoned to herself, and instead leave her to break the news much more gently.
Thundering footsteps pressed on remorselessly, ignoring the photos framed upon the landing wall that would have given him an idea of what he was walking into. Once upon a time, Niall was present on all of those sorts of pictures but not anymore. Deirdre’s campaign to rid the house of him after he went away meant that those pictures were now in a box somewhere out of sight, out of Michelle’s sight, memories of the past locked away with their emotive value. Encased, buried. Just like the memory of him was going to be in the matriarch’s mind.
Michelle was hardly slow and picked up her pace across the landing, but it wasn’t enough. Soon at the door to the room that she did not want him to enter, he did not hesitate to bundle in, to her utter horror behind him.
It was going to be done the hard way.
Rounding in behind, Michelle met a polyester back and only just avoided headbutting it. Having come to a dead stop when he entered the room, her brother was firmly planted on his soles, without her being able to read the expression across his features. She could have quite rightly guessed though and as he’d proven since walking through the front door, Niall was unafraid of expressing himself.
“What the actual fuck is this!?” He bellowed, whipping round to meet her face to face. “Where’s my shit, Michelle!?”
“Niall…”.
“WHERE!?”
The force of his shout was enough to make her wince, eyes firmly shut. Michelle Mallon was not a wincer and wasn’t scared of anyone. She shouldn’t have been scared of her brother either, but in the moment without anyone else in the house to come to her aid, she was petrified of him. He was a killer after all, a killer who was getting angrier by the minute.
He wouldn’t hurt her though.
Yet even in her own merry, fantastical daze, Michelle suddenly found herself unsure.
Her growing concerns were suddenly realised not more than a half second later as her shoulders were gripped onto roughly by him, his stare boring into her. A shiver ran through her body, shrinking her normally brimming confidence to little more than a melting ice cube in the untamed sunlight of midday.
“WHERE!?”
Niall yelled at her again, feeling her second shiver under his palms. Realising the fallacy of his course of action he let go of her, not a moment too soon, turning away to wander further into the room as he muttered something under his breath.
Behind him, a tear escaped the border guards of Michelle’s right canthus, taking some of the mascara she’d applied earlier that morning with it.
The younger, far less mature if it was possible, Michelle, used to idolise her big brother. They got into trouble together, comforted each other and held the sort of sibling relationship that some could only dream of. Rivalry between them was friendly and whenever she needed him, he was always there for her to lean on. The anvil to hammer all her worries onto.
The older, hardened Niall Mallon was now the hammer unafraid of any anvil he was presented with, including his little sister. It had always seemed so incredulous to her that he had it in him to be able to kill another being, but now it was quite clear how.
“The fuck have you lot done to my room…”. Less angry, but no less dismayed, Niall shook his head. “You’s all fuckin’ abandoned me!”
“Niall, it’s not like that-”. Softly, Michelle let the words fall, until she was interrupted.
“THEN WHAT IT IS LIKE!” Veins popped as he once again faced her. “You’s just don’t give a fuck do ye!? Fuckin’ around with my room-”.
“It’s not yer room, Niall”.
Interrupting him in return, for the first time he was taken aback, thick furrowed brows indicating such confusion. Before he could contest the claim, she continued, head bowed.
“It’s James’. Not yers”.
Unable to look him in the eye as she spoke, Michelle did not dare to without a deep breath whilst staring at the floor first. When she did pick her head back up, she found a similar look of befuddlement on him again, only this time there was a much quicker trip to the point for Niall. The cogs in his brain chugged back through the knowledge he’d gained over time, past the memories of prison and murder and back to his family.
“James… James… ye mean… ye mean that fuckin’ dirty, slapper bitch Kathy’s boy!?” He spat out, before his stare became even more despicable. “THE FUCKIN’ ENGLISH!?”
“A-aye… K-Kathy… Kathy left him here and we…”.
“Ye fuckin’ replaced me?” Niall scoffed.
“We had no choice, M-M…M-Mammy took him in and he… he got yer room and…”.
“He fuckin’ replaced me…”.
Laughing, almost chewing his tongue off at what he was hearing, Niall started to pace, only increasing Michelle’s worries. They were always going to have to introduce him to James, but this was the worst possible way, the one she’d wanted to avoid at absolutely all costs. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t once harboured the exact same thoughts about the wee English fella, but she had the advantage of getting to know him and coming to love and cherish him.
Niall didn’t.
He was like she was for the first few months of living with James, or what James might have called every day until the day he almost left. The replacement, the plug to fill the Niall sized gap. An English accent, a hatred inducing accent that they were all sick of, all of the time. With his own views made quite clear to the point of having gone to prison for them, Niall was only ever going to see him as another Englishman meddling in Irish affairs.
Silence unintentionally crept into the room, brother and sister both shocked in their own ways, without saying anything more. Niall took to looking out of the window rather than at her, leaving Michelle with just her ever more worrying thoughts. If only she could have her friends by her side, she briefly thought, the normal safety net for her to be caught by. As narcissistic as she could be, Erin would have found the words to have talked them out of the room. Orla might have been able to say something to lighten the mood.
Instead, she could only stare at his back, watching as his fists curled and uncurled at what must have been thoughts of the cousin he barely knew.
“Where’s me stuff”. Unexpectedly, Niall broke the air.
“In the shed”. Just about replying calmly, Michelle replied.
“Typical. The shed. Probably fuckin’ ripped apart by bugs and shit!”
Niall’s contempt for his family was not hidden in his words, nor his face when he started to walk back across the room, glaring at his sister. Quickly side stepping out of the way on instinct and out of fear, Michelle didn’t try to stop him.
The day was already gone, the day she wanted at least. Niall wasn’t going to be the brother she wanted him to be, and no amount of patience was going to fix the attitude he’d returned with. She didn’t want to cry any further, and therefore swallowed the heart-breaking prickles at the back of her throat. She would have to deal with yet another disappointment when it came to him, though somehow this one hurt more than even him going away to prison.
Prisoners were meant to be rehabilitated in her mind, that was the point of taking away someone’s freedom. A lesson was meant to be taught to someone who’d killed. They were not to do it again, they were to treat life responsibly and learn to love not hate; Niall didn’t seem to have changed one jot in the years he’d been inside. There was nothing to say he wouldn’t kill again from what she’d seen of him.
She followed him down the stairs like she did up them, only not at the same pace as before. The soupy, misty air was almost visible to her, her breaths shallow and rapid, as if there was no oxygen in the house for her to breathe in. The sort of air that should have been encountered in the great high ranges, though with Niall’s attitude since returning home, she did have mountains to move, unsurprising her in a way.
Deirdre and Martin’s decision to be away from home when their son came back was validated. Cursing herself, this time without trying to foolishly convince her conscience otherwise, Michelle knew she should have joined them. Niall would have returned to a locked house with nowhere to go and would have got the message.
He was unwanted.
Making peace with disowning their first born, a peace Michelle hadn’t been able to find for her brother. Only now it was more of an enforced peace, if such a word could be used to describe how she felt.
In truth, peaceful… it was anything but.
Niall moved with haste and with memory, grabbing the keys for the shed as he rushed out of the back door. She made her way through a few seconds later too and by the time Michelle stepped foot into the back garden, the shed door was already open, Niall searching for his belongings. Banging and clanging indicated his difficulty in the tight yet well packed space, his growls of frustration heard from as far back as the back door.
Taking a moment to stop, she looked up into the sky to watch the clouds. Up there was peace, but when she tipped her head back down, Michelle knew she would be facing the polar opposite. A freezing snowstorm of Niall’s ever worsening attitude and evident disdain for a world that moved on around him, but without him.
“Where is it then!?” He called out, breaking her from thoughts.
“There’s a box”. Michelle replied as she walked, still trying to be as calm as she could. “Back right corner. Everythin’s in there”.
“That old fuckin’ thing?”
Quizzical, Niall immediately clambered over to bend down and flip the lid up. A cloud of dust shot off the top of it, tickling his lungs into producing a cough, followed by one from his sister a second later as she entered the shed behind him. Peering in at the contents, another vicious growl was heard, leaving Michelle aware in no uncertain terms of another annoyance to her big brother.
“And the rest of it!?” He enquired abruptly.
She knew he was going to hate the answer but say it she had to.
“That’s… that’s it”.
“A few old clothes and a fuckin’ alarm clock, you takin’ the piss or what, Michelle!?” Niall growled. “What happened to all me old stuff!? Where’s me trainers!?”
“We erm… we…”. She fumbled around, squirming away from the eye contact he tried to initiate. “Mammy… Mammy and Daddy said we needed to… we…”.
“The fuck did they say!?”
With another couple of breaths, she stopped shying away to look him dead in the eye. The wild look in them concerned her, to the point of the shaking starting again a little. He was going to hate this part of the answer even more than the last.
“We needed the money when James came to stay. We… we sold a lot of yer stuff and just… just kept that for… well… ye know”.
“SOLD IT! FOR A FUCKIN’ ENGLISHMAN!?”
Unable to contain his rage anymore, Niall’s fist thumped into the floor. Not once, but repeatedly, his aggression being taken out upon the boards of the shed as his mouth reeled off a bout of the vilest repertoire of language. The harsh splintering of wood could be heard as at least one was ruptured by his uncontrollable rage. His head was full of the thoughts of betrayal from his closest, the loved ones that were supposed to have supported him no matter what happened. Like his sister, he too was discovering that life after his prison sentence was not going to be the picture painted in either of their heads.
Happy reunion, or any real reunion was not going to happen. Decisions of the past were coming to haunt, the fracture deeper than any of them could have predicted. He’d been removed from their family, replaced by his filthy Aunt’s unwanted bastard. The ultimate act of disloyalty, a stab in both the front and the back.
Still terrified, Michelle took a step back as he continued to thrash away, cheeks colourless. Her hands were frozen, clasped together in terror as she read the emotions of her brother like the black book they were.
In some ways she understood how it must have felt for him, especially when the poisonous broth that James accidentally represented was being fed to him so bitterly. At the same time though, it was his decision to commit murder, she reasoned to herself, his choice to end a fella’s life and thereby have his freedom removed.
“You’ve betrayed me”. Niall finally allowed himself to say what he could not believe. “All of ye. Ma, Da, you… none of you fuckin’ bothered to see me! None of you’s cared! But then fuckin’ James comes and ye give him my room, sell my stuff!...HE’S ENGLISH!”
“It… it wasn’t like that Niall, we… we had no choice. Kathy just left him here. I-I… I didn’t want him either, I wanted you!”
“You wanted me? Like fuck ye did!”
“I did!” She cried.
“Oh aye, right. Why didn’t ye fuckin’ visit me then, ‘chelle? Hey!? YE FUCKIN’ THREW ME AWAY!”
“Mammy wouldn’t let me! I-I wanted to visit, I did, b-but what could I do!”
“What happened to ye, ‘chelle!? Mammy wouldn’t have stopped the little sister I knew!”
Niall’s sentimentalism hadn’t bubbled to the surface as much as hers, but he allowed the shields to come down for a moment so she could gain an insight into his thoughts. Brother yearned for the old sister as much as sister yearned for old brother, with both having realised that neither one was present. She wondered whether it was best to cave in and extend a hand to him, to break into his arms and try to mend the deep divisions they’d accidentally caused by pushing his memory away.
Yet this was the same Niall who’d walked into the house that day uninterested in her and what was going on in her life. This was the Niall Mallon who was looking out for only himself, still bitter by the lack of contact received from his family whilst he languished in a cell for the horrific act of murder that he’d committed. On that day all those years prior, he was the one who decided to kill in cold blood, not her, or her Ma or Da. They were a broken family because of Niall and Niall alone.
He did not deserve her strength, nor did she deserve to be weak to him.
“I grew up”.
The resolute, solid nature inside her finally showed itself.
“I’m sorry, Niall but that’s it. I grew up. You… ye haven’t, have ye?”
“The fuck!?”
Raising himself to his feet, kicking the box back into the corner, he stood before her, his bare knuckles dripping blood onto the wooden floor.
“Ye killed a man, Niall”. Looking at him, she swallowed hard, blinking away the threatening tears. “Ye ruined a family’s life and… and then ye come back and just… just…”.
“I didn’t expect a fuckin’ party, I said that already!” Niall snarled. “But bein’ thrown away for the fuckin’ enemy! What did ye expect!?”
“HE’S NOT THE ENEMY!”
At the top of her lungs, Michelle’s shout rattled the sides of the shed. Even to some extent it shocked Niall, not that he showed it externally. The boot suddenly on the other foot, Michelle’s filter returned to its normal self.
Non-existent.
“YE KILLED SOMEONE NIALL! Don’t blame Mammy or… or James… you ruined all this! None of us killed anyone, it was you! And yer lucky, really fuckin’ lucky, that ye get a second chance!”
“I never asked for it! This fuckin’ peace is all shite!”
“NO IT’S NOT!” She shouted again, cheeks blazing red. “This is a chance to move on, to have a better future instead of us all killin’ each other! This is yer chance to do somethin’ good in the world, not just be known for bein’ a feckin’ killer!”
Punching the wall of the shed again, an enraged Niall made his sister shudder but with every fibre she had left, Michelle stood firm to give him a piece of her mind.
“Ye weren’t here sittin’ with Mammy while she cried! Ye didn’t have to go through people avoidin’ us in the street or… or the comments I got in school! I had to go there everyday, every feckin’ day, havin’ people look at me, sayin’ how my brother’s a feckin’ murderer! And what about that fella and his son, their family!? Ye feckin’ ruined their lives, Niall, aren’t ye even sorry!?”
“HE WAS THE ENEMY, MICHELLE!” A bellowing Niall got right into her face, trying to unnerve her. “This isn’t a fuckin’ chance for nothin’. If we don’t fight, we’ll never be free!”
“What good has fightin’ done, Niall!?” She lurched forward too, giving him as good as he gave out. “All this violence, all these people dead and for what!? Nothin’s changed, no one’s any better off for it! So why not give peace a chance, eh? Why not try to build somethin’ better than death and grief a-and pain!”
“This isn’t peace! This is what they wanted!”
“IT’S WHAT EVERYONE WANTED!”
The anger in the pair of them was spewing throughout the shed, flared nostrils millimetres away from each other. Michelle might have still been afraid of him, but she was not afraid to stand up for what she believed in, nor to admit that she supported the way forward, not the way back. Nor was she afraid to stand up for who she believed in.
“And another thing!” Adding with fire, she took a step away to give herself some distance. “Ye know, James might be English a-and he might not be… be perfect but he’s a damn fine fella! He doesn’t hurt people, he doesn’t make people’s lives worse! He’s looked after me and the girls, even when we were fuckin’ rank to him! And ye know what, that’s… that’s…”.
“That’s why ye don’t want me anymore”.
Finishing the sentence for her, at least he thought he was, Niall once more was left with the bitter taste of rejection from his family. James might well have been a member of their family, but not as close as he was to them. Just a few years away changed everything, leaving him coming to the realisation that he was on the outside looking in on what they’d developed without him. A culture and a household where his views and actions, apparently were no longer welcome.
“It’s what people like you and Mammy have become that sickens me!” Niall, intent on his monologue, started. “We’re the fuckin’ slighted ones here, treated like a bit of shite on people’s boots, no good Catholic fuckin’ troublemakers! That’s all they think we are, ‘chelle! We don’t need a fuckin’ peace! We’re just lettin’ rich bastards away from here tell us what to do and make us the fuckin’ outcasts of society! We need fightin’, we need war!”
His vengeful words might have once struck a chord with his sister, but Michelle could only shake her head at what she heard. Niall’s path of violence was not one that she was willing to walk down, much to his evident anger.
“Fuck’s sake, Michelle! I knew you’s didn’t want me, but this… this isn’t you abandonin’ me, ye’ve betrayed everythin’ we stand for!”
“I LOVED YOU!”
A rip-roaring shout, it could have been heard streets away as it left the back of Michelle’s throat with such ferocity.
“I loved you, damnit, Niall!” Breaking into tears, she started to slide down the back wall of the shed. “I didn’t want ye to go to prison! I didn’t want to lose ye for so long! I-I… I always cared for ye, always thought about ye! I… I just want me brother!”
Sobbing, she’d managed to slide all the way down to a seated position as Niall looked on at her in a crumpled mess. Mascara stained her cheeks very quickly, though the extent was soon impossible to judge when her head went between her knees. Hard cries smacked into the wooden surroundings whilst he just stood stock still staring at her, without a pained expression on his face. For a good few seconds he just looked on, completely unmoved.
In a perfect world he would have snapped out of it to comfort her, to try to be better and let go of the tinderbox of hatred that was ready to blow in his chest.
The world was getting better for her, but Michelle knew it was not perfect. She also knew without any attempt in her mind to deflect it, that Niall was not going to compromise. Such deep-rooted views were not forgotten thanks to one outburst from a concerned, soul destroyed loved one. To be able to make him see the positive light of the rays of peace, there would have to be a lot more time, effort and patience spent, none of which were worth their respective values. Her big brother would always be consumed by the bitter disgust he held for those on the other side of the ever-falling barriers.
Worst of all, her crying didn’t even appear to humble him.
After what must have been nearly a minute of soaking in the dank atmosphere he’d created, and retrieving the box of his belongings behind him, he headed for the door. Just as he was about to step out, he stopped, the sudden halt bringing Michelle’s head up from her lap to look at him through a teary, foggy lens.
“Yer a liar”.
With not a word more he left, taking the old box with him and not looking back once. Michelle wanted to chase him, to find out where he was going or what he was doing, but her body would not comply with the request. She wasn’t going to follow him for a third time; she had to let him go.
Deirdre and Martin were being proven right time and time again, and one of the comments that the latter had made earlier in the week came back into his daughter’s mind.
Niall’s life lay elsewhere, not with them.
He was going to spread his wings and fly off somewhere else, without them playing a part of whatever his future held. Whether that future would be spent doing good or evil would have to be seen, and whether or not he would live within the law would be discovered in time. On a day far away in the future, they might find that he’d decided to act on his feelings of resentment once again but that was his journey to make, a solo expedition.
Her ticket to join him would have to be ripped up and left.
Curled up in the corner of the shed bawling, Michelle’s despair reached wretched depths she could never have imagined. As a young woman who often hid how she truly felt, it was a rude awakening to discover what would happen if she let the mask slip. Years of pain from being separated from her beloved brother were flowing out, mixing with the fresh, toxic memories of his short but poisonous return home. For what was no more than ten more minutes he’d come back into her life, only to walk straight back out of it on worse terms. The dream of having him back, enjoying the rekindling of their relationship as siblings, smashed.
She must have stayed on the floor of the shed for a good half hour or more, sometimes tears rolling down her cheeks, sometimes not. Time didn’t seem to matter when she was so crestfallen and upset, Michelle allowing it to run away without a care. Eventually though, she was so uncomfortable that she had to get up and get out of the pokey space, and go back into her house where she could go to her room and get into bed. More than anything she wanted to drown under the covers and let everything else out.
The air seemed cooler when she stepped out into it, her legs certainly much heavier than when she entered. Deirdre would have to berate her later for not locking the shed but in the moment, she could not care less whether it was open or not. The sanctuary of her room was calling, and she was determined to answer.
Passing through the kitchen, she registered the abandoned set of keys that Niall had thrown onto the table on his way out. An object so simple as a set of keys was enough to set her off again and allowing herself to think that way would only deepen the melancholy. Sorrows could be lived in her bed, not by the dining table.
As soon as she moved out into the hallway, at no real pace at all, Michelle realised she was not alone there. A figure was stood in the middle, waiting for her.
Niall was gone, that was for certain, as the manner in which he departed told her that he would gave gone onto whatever ventures he was heading for. Instead, the presence was soft and unmoving, soothing eyes meeting her instead of the vicious ones that her brother left with. Deirdre and Martin were still out too, which made his appearance all the more surprising.
“J-James… wha-”.
“Has he gone?”
The wee English fella’s question was direct, receiving a small nod of the head before he knew he needed to move. On seeing her cousin, Michelle did not try to convince him that all was well and that their family was all knitting back together.
She wouldn’t have been able to anyway.
As soon as she burst into tiny pieces she was taken into his arms, almost screaming into his shoulder from the pain she felt. The comforting warmth of the Englishman enveloped her, prompting such emotions to flood out rather than be held by the pools that had been waiting in her eyes. His tight grasp allowed her to fall all the way through to the bottom of her feelings, exactly what was required.
She might not have had Niall, might not ever again, but she did have James.
James who’d taken the first flight from London, getting up at an obscene time to do so. James who, like his Aunt and Uncle, knew Michelle’s fairytale would come apart, also knew he needed to be there for her. James who didn’t care about his own coursework when his family’s needs outweighed his own. James who was stroking her hair lightly as he felt tears staining the tight fighting denim jacket that covered him.
Steady, solid, dependable James.
He wasn’t the unpredictable, self-assured, firebrand that was Niall, but he was one thing that his older cousin was not.
Reliable.
And though she would never tell him to face, and only scarcely could admit to herself, she would much prefer to hold onto him than she would the brother that walked away.
“He-He…”. Choking on words, Michelle tried to speak.
“No”. James stopped her, a kiss pressed onto the top of her forehead, before pulling away and dropping his voice to a whisper. “Just let it out, Michelle. I’ve got you”.
James was true family. Niall, a fractured memory, buried in the past.
Only the wee English fella would remain a part of her future.