As the youngest Shelby child and twin to Finn Shelby, Kezia has spent the last 4 of her 10 years locked away for her mental defectiveness.
She returns to Small Heath under the legal guardianship of her brother, Thomas Shelby. Despite knowing she's s...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Hi sorry I had to unpublish this chapter for a second! I forgot that I added a little bit to the end of the chapter so please read it.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Not taking things personally was almost always impossible.
Arthur wanted his father. And Kizzie wondered what it would feel like to want their father as a father. They had so many years apart. Arthur's version of Father meant something entirely different. Good brain or not.
"Do you remember?" Tommy asked. They sat having dinner close to the Garrison and they'd been out the better part of the day. "When you told me you didn't mind if people called me your father?"
Kizzie nodded. She tore off another piece of bread and went to work.
Tommy stared at her in silence, and she wondered if he forgot what he was going to say next. That happened all the time to her.
She suddenly remembered her own question. "Is it...true, Tommy?"
"Is what true, lambkin?"
"Father said that only he could take me from the hospital. Won't you be in trouble when they find out?"
Her brother leaned forward, hands folded. "Noone will find out. I made sure of it. But yes. Dad's paperwork meant that only he could release you. Unless you were given into someone else's custody. That's why Aunt Polly couldn't come get you earlier."
"What does custody mean?"
"It means when an adult takes responsibility and care over another person."
Kizzie's mind swirled. If Tommy got her out of the hospital— "Does that mean you have custody over me?"
Her brother smiled in that private way. "It does, lambkin. You are mine."
And she always would be.
"That's good. I'd rather be yours than Father's."
Tommy reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a pen and notepad. "I need your help, Kizzie."
"Okay."
"I need the names of the hospital doctors."
Kizzie dropped the hollowed-out bread onto her plate. "Why?"
"Because the ones who were mean to you, and the others, need to be dealt with. They shouldn't be allowed to continue harming children."
"How did you know they hurt us?"
Tommy steadied his breathing. "I overhear things, Kizzie. Things you've told Polly. Things you say in your sleep. I need their names." He put this off for long enough. Their father's arrival, while inconvenient and aggravating, provided an excellent excuse to get answers from his sister.
