Forbidden Afflictions // Alfie Solomons Peaky Blinders

(7) Gin and Jails pt. 2

I'm sorry to rant, but wtf is up with Wattpad this year? I was looking forward to submitting Forbidden Alliances for the Wattys because I missed the deadline last year, and now they decide fanfiction is no longer an acceptable category? Honestly, what the actual fuck? Not only was I proud of what I wrote, but you all have given me such rich feedback, saying how you liked it, and you all made me feel... idk.. accepted and valuable? What people have been saying about these two books has meant the world to me, truly, and now I don't even have the OPPORTUNITY to share it on a larger scale. I'm just really disappointed I missed my chance. I apologize again for complaining. Thank you all for sticking by me as I try to give you all the material you want. I love y'all!

-V

"We cannot relive the past. Let it stay where it must lie," Freya said with flat lips, holding back a poor frown as she faced Alfie in unpermitted defeat.

"But are we not 'ere becoz of wot we've done in the past? 'ave we not survived becoz of 'oo we were or wot we did?" Alfie countered calmly, finding his words as easy as it was for him to breathe.

"I don't want to be there," Freya said tersely, trembling to try and contain the wobble of her bottom lip and the curl of their corners. "Not again..." she whispered, tears filling her eyes as she faced Alfie with nothing to interrupt them.

There were no clocks, no dates, and no people to intervene. It felt as if they had all the time in the world to talk; and if not that, simply be.

"I am with you 'ere," Alfie promised, "in the present." He felt the urge to reach out but restrained himself. As much comfort as it would bring, it also risked her discomfort and that was more painful than anything. "But I wasn't always..."

Alfie paused, searching her eyes for any indication that she was disagreeing. However, he saw nothing but a pair of sorrowful eyes staring back at him so he obliged to continue.

"Please tell me wot I missed. Wot they did to you? Wot's goin' on with you? Please..." he begged in a soft voice, sinking in on his elbows as he fell weak under her attention.

"Alfie..." she whispered, dropping her line of sight to the countertop between them. "I can't..."

"You're dying," he stated painfully. "I can see it," he added despite his heart's content. "I fucked up. I understand that now; now more than ever! I tried 'ol I could from out 'ere. I couldn't... I couldn't do anything, but I can now. I just need you to tell me... Tell me wot 'appened—tell me wot to do. Please..."

She stood there with her hands on the edge of the bartop, shaking her head and staring unwaveringly at the spot between her knuckles, refusing to meet his delicate eyes despite her earnestness.

"Tell me wot to do," Alfie echoed dolefully.

"I can't..." she repeated, finally shattering and watching as one tear dripped from her eye socket and onto her boot. "It's all gone."

"It's not," Alfie assured quietly. "You didn't die in there, Freya, Love. It's not gone. You're still 'ere. You didn't 'ang. You didn't die. You didn't leave me."

"Oh, but I did," she growled dismally, flicking her gaze to his and staring almost as a threat now as she bore her wounds before him. "It was as if I had died the moment that rope tightened around my neck and I saw my blood pour down my legs that day," she continued to speak in a low, raspy voice as she recalled the events. "And once you've died, you are therefore unfettered—free to do as one must but not as one pleases. No. The Gods are not so kind. Please," she asked. "I don't want to go back."

"You will never have to," he promised with a wince. "You can't ever... Not again... Never," he repeated, shaking his head with certainty now rather than disbelief. "I won't," he paused, "I won't allow it," he finished vigorously.