Then.

I missed the MacManus brothers terribly, but as day three dragged on of not seeing them at McGinty's again, I started to give up hope that they were even real to begin with. As I caked on another layer of cover up around my eye and pulled my hair back into a tight ponytail, I spied a cut I never noticed before on my chin.

"Where did you come from?" I whispered, leaning closer to my bathroom mirror. Wincing when I ran my finger over it, I realized that it was still very fresh. "Oh, yeah, that's right." The result of another one of Trevor's drunken tantrums. He had nicked me with a broken beer bottle the night before. It happened so often that the memories of it all began to mush together.

Before Trevor had the chance to wake up, I grabbed for my purse and hurried to leave. If I didn't end up wasting time, I could make it to McGinty's and back before his alarm went off. As I closed the door to our apartment as quietly as I could, I checked my watch. A few minutes past ten. I had half an hour.

Nearly sprinting down the sidewalk, I ignored the catcalls and whistles from the people behind me. I didn't have time to turn around, try to stick up for myself, and then end up crying back to Trevor. I knew what he'd say. His voice sounded so clearly in my head that it felt like he was running right next to me. "Its your fault," he would say. "You're the dumbass who went outside looking like a cheap whore."

Not that I really looked like a cheap whore. It was just that Trevor hated when I wore skirts, even the most professional ones.

"Aye, lassie, a l-little early t-to start dr-drinkin', don't ya th-think?" Doc questioned me as I nearly kicked the door to the pub in, breathing heavily and hair already a mess. "Fuck! Ass!"

"I'm not really here to drink," I told him, smoothing out my hair against my head. "I was just curious about Murphy and Connor. Have you heard from them lately?"

Doc's eyes widened and he immediately began to fidget with a shot glass. He shoved a small towel inside and started to clean it with trembling hands. "N-No, hav-haven't seen the boys s-since St. Patty's Day. N-Not at all."

I pulled myself onto a stool and folded my hands atop the counter. Doc's movements as he bustled about seemed twitchy and haphazard. The other night, he seemed so natural and calm in his pub, but now it was the exact opposite. "I'm just worried," I mumbled. "I just thought they would've shown up again after the other night."

The old man looked pained; his face grew red and his breathing came out in short spurts of air. "Oh, da-damn it," he hissed before slamming his hands on the counter just in front of me. I jolted back in surprise. "Th-The boys g-got in-into another sp-spat with the fucktards wh-who came to the bar the other n-night. Fuck! Ass!" He lowered his face closer to mine, eyeing the sleeping man in the corner who had been there since the night before. "An FBI ag-agent came b-by yes-yesterday lookin' for 'em."

My heart felt like it had plummeted into my stomach. "FBI?" I repeated. "Why? It was just a bar fight."

"Th-They killed 'em."

I stared at Doc for what seemed like hours. All the while, my breakfast that had consisted of toast of coffee threatening to force its way back up through my mouth. Murphy and Connor had killed those Russians...I tried to picture the two smiling, drunken men who invited me to their gathering like I'd known them for years holding the Russian men at gunpoint. It was impossible.

"Th-They've already go-gone to the police dep-department to def-defend their c-c-case," Doc continued when the silence between us became too heavy. "Ha-Haven't seen 'em si-since."

I ran a bruised hand over my face. What if they'd gotten themselves arrested? What if more of the Russians had found them? I knew it was stupid to be so concerned over a couple guys I had only just met and knew nothing about, but I considered them my only friends in this new city. Just for a few hours, they had taken me away from the harsh reality that was Trevor and shown me a world full of drunken laughter and hugs from strangers that felt more loving than anything I'd experienced in a long time.

"How early is too early to start drinking?" I asked, keeping my head buried in my hands. I didn't want to look at Doc's face, at his concerned expression. I knew it would only make me feel worse.

Something cold touched my arm. I glanced down to see a whiskey sour. "O-On the house," Doc said before promptly turning his head and spewing so loudly that it woke the man in the corner, "Fuck! Ass!"

(-)

I stumbled down the sidewalk, holding onto the building next to me for support. Spending all day at McGinty's seemed like such a good idea at the time, but the realization that I had to come home to the wrath of Trevor struck fear into me. Not even the drunken courage I tried to muster was enough to cast the feeling away.

Dusk settled over Boston beautifully; the sky glowed with a mixture of purple and orange, the city seemed so much quieter than usual, and even cars filled the streets less frequently. Of course, I wasn't sure about any of this – things seemed to be more favorable when I was drunk, I soon learned. Even my body felt like I was made of titanium. For a split second, I considered punching a hole in the building I leaned on, but a tiny voice inside of me told me that would was a terrible idea.

"Oh, God, please don't do this," a horrified moan echoed from a nearby alleyway. I stopped in my tracks before rushing in the direction. I peeked around the corner of the building to see three bodies. One was knelt on the cold ground and the other two stood behind him, a gun in each of their hand. "Please, I don't deserve this," the kneeling man pleaded.

"And Shepherds we shall be for Thee, my lord, for Thee," the standing men chanted simultaneously. I squinted in the darkening air to get a better view of them. Their faces had been covered with black ski masks. "Power hath descended forth from Thy hand. Our feet may swiftly carry out Thy command. So we shall flow a river to Thee and teeming with souls shall it ever be."

I focused on the man in front of them. Something about him seemed so familiar. I couldn't tell what color his hair was, but it was styled in a way I knew much too well.

"In Nomeni Patri Et Fili Spiritus Sancti."

"Trevor," my mouth formed just as twin gunshots sounded. Trevor's body lurched forward, but the men caught him by the arms before he hit the ground. They turned him onto his back and placed something over his eyes before running toward me.

I gasped in fear and pressed myself hard against the building, as if trying to blend in so they wouldn't see me. Unfortunately, one of them stopped just as they passed, turned to look at me, and said, "You're safe now, lass. Bastard ain't gonna touch ya ever again." Then, they were gone, running down the street like a couple of idiots.

I approached Trevor's body slowly, my own body trembling like an earthquake was surging through me. The two men had placed pennies over his blasted out eyes and positioned his arms to cross over his chest. Slowly, I pulled my phone from my pocket and dialed 9-1-1. "Hello?" I whispered into the phone. "Yes, I n-need the Boston Police right away...There's been a m-murder." Then, a short pause. "No, I didn't see who did it."

(-)

Because I was the one to "find" Trevor's body, because I was intoxicated, and because I was his girlfriend, I was taken into the station for questioning immediately. I sat in a small room with a man who looked as drunk as I was and half crazed. After introducing himself as Agent Smecker, he nudged a box of doughnuts my way.

"How do you take your coffee?" he asked politely.

"Black," I answered, reaching for a chocolate doughnut. The entire ride to the police station, I tried my hardest to force some tears out for the fact that my boyfriend had just been murdered in front of my own eyes. I couldn't. I wasn't sad or angry or even scared, not anymore. I was relieved, which is a horrible way to feel after something like this happens, but I truly was. It meant no more black eyes, no more cuts on my face, no more names being spat at me. I was free.

Smecker nodded to a lanky looking man standing behind him. Without conversation between the two, the man left the room to fetch my coffee. Then, Smecker turned to me with a wide grin. "I'll have to record this," he informed me. "I'll need you to answer to the best of your knowledge. You understand, right?"

"Yes," I muttered before stuffing a bite of doughnut into my mouth. I hadn't realized just how hungry I was.

Between us sat a hefty machine. Smecker pressed the button with a red circle on it. "Please state your entire name and age," he told me, loud enough that the machine would pick up on it.

I swallowed before leaning in and saying, "Ridley Elandria Gillespie. Twenty-one."

"That's a unique name," Smecker commented, raising his eyebrows. "Very pretty."

"Thank you," I replied sheepishly as I wondered if this was part of the investigation. "It was my grandmother's name."

"Now, how did you find the man who was murdered in the alleyway?"

"I-I was walking home from the bar," I told him, picking my words very carefully. "Normally I look in alleys when I pass them just in case there are people waiting in there to attack me. I did the same here and saw a body. When I got close enough, I realized it was Trevor's."

"And how did you know Trevor?"

"He was my boyfriend."

"You don't seem very shaken up over his murder."

I fell silent for a moment, watching Smecker's eager eyes study my face. I know he was waiting for me to confess to killing Trevor. "I'm not," I finally said, rubbing the cover up from my eye. Although the black eye wasn't as prominent as it was when I met the brothers, my skin was still puffy and tinted with a small amount of purple. I lifted my sleeves, revealing the bruises and cuts. "He was abusive."

Smecker sat back in his chair and rubbed a hand over his mouth before pressing the record button on the machine again. "Thank you for your time, Miss Gillespie," he said, a hint of anger in his voice. The lanky man finally returned with my coffee. He looked toward Smecker in confusion when he stood from his chair. "We're done here. Greenly, see that she gets home safe."