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darker_london2000-07-14 01:24 pm
myeyesarehollow.livejournal.com) wrote in darker_london2000-07-14 01:24 pm
Entry tags:
The Moment (Flynn, Frankie) [BACKSTORY!]
Things had started to wind down in Whitehead. The injured children had returned home, and they were just fine. The citizens of Whitehead were once again anti-police force, letting their support sway back to the PIRA. Francis O'Reilly and his band of thugs had laid low, but now that things were setting to rights and summer had begun, he wanted things to wind back up again.
Starting with his brother Malachy.
Ever since Ardal had yelled at Malachy that he never wanted to see him again, Mal had holed himself up in his room. He hadn't seen another living soul, as he was far too busy struggling with how to save his own. He had turned Rage away, and he had barred Francis at the door. Which is why Francis decided he wouldn't take no for an answer anymore, and he removed Malachy's door from it's hinges with a spanner.
"What the fuck!?" Mal shrieked, sitting up on his bed as his older brother removed his door from it's frame. "Have you gone mad?!"
"I could ask you the same thing, Malachy." Francis hissed. "You've spent enough time up here moping. Come with me, we're havin' a meetin'."
Mal took a deep and frantic breath. This was a big deal. This was epic. This was the most important thing he'd done in all his 15 years. "No." Mal shook his head. "No, Frankie."
"Why the fuck not?!" Francis growled before stepped forward to drag Mal off the bed.
Mal kicked and screamed, and he managed to get Francis' hands off him, but really only because Francis wanted to hear what the hell this was all about. "I can't do it anymore, Frankie! I can't do it! We hurt those kids! They didn't do nothin' and we blowed 'em up! Don't you give a fig's arse about that?"
Francis shrugged. "They're alive." He said, his voice indicating that he didn't care much either way, actually. "They're English larvae, Mal. It's not our fault they got in the way."
Mal's eyes narrowed and he backed up a little, shaking his head. "Listen to you! You don't care that we hurt those kids! You don't care that we crippled Arthur Collin's while he was screamin' for mercy-"
"Arthur Collins is a reprobate!" Francis reminded Mal. "He raped a little girl!"
"So he should have gone to prison." Mal folded his arms and he gave Frankie a stern look. "I...I can't be a part of this anymore, Frankie. I don't believe in it." The hate he had felt in his heart...the injustice of being born in a place without freedom...it had faded. He had been shown another way by a good person, and Mal wanted so much to be a good person too. He didn't actually believe he ever could be. It was his firm belief that he was far too gone already. Too tainted. But he was going to give it his best try. "I can't be with you."
"You can't leave." Francis shook his head. "You can't leave, Malachy. You're a part of this whether you like it or not."
Mal raised his eyebrows. "I ain't going to no meetin'. And if you force me, I'll tell the fuckin' cops-"
Before the word had even finished leaving Malachy's lips, Francis had struck Malachy, catching him in the lip and the left eye with his fist. Mal stumbled backwards and he fell to the ground, spitting blood. Instead of rising, however, instead of striking back like Francis wanted him to, he stayed down and glared at his older brother. "I ain't goin'." Mal repeated. His voice was unwavering, even through the pain.
"Then you're nothin' to me." Frankie warned. "Lower than nothin'. A traitor. Just you see what we do to traitors, Malachy." And Francis turned to walk away, slamming Mal's door down against the floor as he went. Mal stayed where he had fallen, shaking from fear of what his brother had said. He only hoped that the fact that he was family would save him.
He knew what they did to traitors.
Starting with his brother Malachy.
Ever since Ardal had yelled at Malachy that he never wanted to see him again, Mal had holed himself up in his room. He hadn't seen another living soul, as he was far too busy struggling with how to save his own. He had turned Rage away, and he had barred Francis at the door. Which is why Francis decided he wouldn't take no for an answer anymore, and he removed Malachy's door from it's hinges with a spanner.
"What the fuck!?" Mal shrieked, sitting up on his bed as his older brother removed his door from it's frame. "Have you gone mad?!"
"I could ask you the same thing, Malachy." Francis hissed. "You've spent enough time up here moping. Come with me, we're havin' a meetin'."
Mal took a deep and frantic breath. This was a big deal. This was epic. This was the most important thing he'd done in all his 15 years. "No." Mal shook his head. "No, Frankie."
"Why the fuck not?!" Francis growled before stepped forward to drag Mal off the bed.
Mal kicked and screamed, and he managed to get Francis' hands off him, but really only because Francis wanted to hear what the hell this was all about. "I can't do it anymore, Frankie! I can't do it! We hurt those kids! They didn't do nothin' and we blowed 'em up! Don't you give a fig's arse about that?"
Francis shrugged. "They're alive." He said, his voice indicating that he didn't care much either way, actually. "They're English larvae, Mal. It's not our fault they got in the way."
Mal's eyes narrowed and he backed up a little, shaking his head. "Listen to you! You don't care that we hurt those kids! You don't care that we crippled Arthur Collin's while he was screamin' for mercy-"
"Arthur Collins is a reprobate!" Francis reminded Mal. "He raped a little girl!"
"So he should have gone to prison." Mal folded his arms and he gave Frankie a stern look. "I...I can't be a part of this anymore, Frankie. I don't believe in it." The hate he had felt in his heart...the injustice of being born in a place without freedom...it had faded. He had been shown another way by a good person, and Mal wanted so much to be a good person too. He didn't actually believe he ever could be. It was his firm belief that he was far too gone already. Too tainted. But he was going to give it his best try. "I can't be with you."
"You can't leave." Francis shook his head. "You can't leave, Malachy. You're a part of this whether you like it or not."
Mal raised his eyebrows. "I ain't going to no meetin'. And if you force me, I'll tell the fuckin' cops-"
Before the word had even finished leaving Malachy's lips, Francis had struck Malachy, catching him in the lip and the left eye with his fist. Mal stumbled backwards and he fell to the ground, spitting blood. Instead of rising, however, instead of striking back like Francis wanted him to, he stayed down and glared at his older brother. "I ain't goin'." Mal repeated. His voice was unwavering, even through the pain.
"Then you're nothin' to me." Frankie warned. "Lower than nothin'. A traitor. Just you see what we do to traitors, Malachy." And Francis turned to walk away, slamming Mal's door down against the floor as he went. Mal stayed where he had fallen, shaking from fear of what his brother had said. He only hoped that the fact that he was family would save him.
He knew what they did to traitors.