METHOD OF BEDLAM ━ 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝐒𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐛𝐲 ²

𝐢𝐢. 𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐞 ; some lost souls never get found

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ii. nine : ❝  some souls never get found ❞

𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠: big bad wolf – roses and revolutions

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Somewhere in Small Heath, Birmingham

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Her touches ran delicately through the beams of his dusky locks; she fondled the threads of the dark tresses like a stable maestro welcoming a star stallion. She held nothing; she only sat by his hospice bed, gazing at his bettered appearance.

The window light glowed on her hands, as if it wanted to illuminate her task. She gently draws her palm down onto the male's cheek, as if brushing the pain away from his flesh. Her movements were precise, with no wasted space. Her mom had described her as a swimmer with long limbs that allowed her to move through the water with ease.

The sky had changed colour outside. The clouds appeared to brush against the windows because they were hanging so low.

Thomas squirmed and groaned as he dozed off, then he sank into the pillows while his head dozed back and forth. The cuts on his cheeks, lip, and chin were covered by scabs, and his face looked battered and swollen. On his cheek, where a tiny but significant cut had been made, they had anticipated that he would bear a scar.

She was enraged by the memory of what Sabini's men had done to him. Fumbling with her left hand as she extended it to take Tommy's hand and eventually located the beating point in his wrist, where she could feel the rhythmic thumps of the beating heart.

His eyes fluttered open, and she felt his face muscles twitch gradually.

And when Thomas Shelby opened his eyes to find Marianna James' stunning face, he couldn't have asked for more.

Looking at her condition, all he could manage was a painful sigh.

"Hi." She spoke.

His gaze moved from the dressing around the crown of her head to her white-clad physique to her bare feet. Even though he was unable to move, he tried his best to reach her.

She could easily recognise the panic in his eyes, despite his red eyes and swollen eyelids. Mar instantly came to stand by his side in the small bed he had been left in, she raised her hand to stop him from moving. "How are you feeling?"

"You're hurt." He responded, reaching for her head and gently feeling the bandage.

She took his hand off her head. "It's challenging to walk away unscathed from that."

He breathed, "I should've known better. I shouldn't have a—"

Taking a spot on his hospital bed, she looked down at his hand on her lap, subconsciously fidgeting with it as she considered what to say. "You're silly to think I'll be safe even if I'm not with you. You know very well they're coming for each of us. They'll strike you where it hurts the most."