Forbidden Afflictions // Alfie Solomons Peaky Blinders

(22) Reason and Reunion

The drive to the forgotten dwelling felt agonizingly long. Her knuckles were reddened and the skin under her nails was pale as she gripped her steering wheel with more pressure than she thought she was capable.

The rain got heavier as the day grew older and the weather did her no favors when it came to her health. As if she didn't already have enough on her plate, the rain and cold had to surround her in something killer.

She knew it was stupid to get her hopes up like she did. It wasn't until late did she find the urge to live. When she decided to try and fight for a chance at life, she was told she didn't have much of it to give.

She knew it was stupid to have made Alfie think they could try for a family; not only because it was wrong to mislead him, but because she ended up convincing herself that that was what she wanted as well. Losing it would have never hurt as much as it did now if she hadn't gotten her hopes up.

She knew it was stupid to have underestimated her disease when she was released. She stopped taking her medication and she let her pain chew at her on the inside. Whatever chance she had at treating herself was severely decreased when she let the depression take hold of her. Fighting it now was far more difficult than it would have been if she had just gotten out of bed every once and a while.

She knew it was stupid to ask what kind of chance she had at overcoming her medical records. In the end, the doctor knew better than she would. He understood her disease best. Hoping her medication and a break from the things that ruined her life before would give her a chance at surviving just longer than a decade was stupid.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

It was incredibly pitiful.

None of it would have happened if she hadn't willed death. None of it would have happened if she hadn't wanted to die. However, the longer she thought about it, none of it would have happened if she had just died.

She wanted something to take her away. She wanted something to sweep her away in a way that didn't make her seem weak. She wanted her sickness to consume her. She wanted something like this to happen—to kill her.

She didn't want it to be at the hand of a man or even at her own blade or consumption. The ignorance of her health was easy. There was less harm in letting it kill her. As much as she loved her family, and as much as she knew how loved she used to be, she wanted to die in a way that wouldn't hurt them. It was inevitable. She knew it was inevitable to leave them unfazed, but something like a sickness was easier to swallow than to have suicide written on a stone.

It was disgusting how she felt.

All that time, all she thought about was gaining power in however little time she had left on the earth. Now, when she finally found a reason to live, death was catching up to her.

Oh, how she wanted to greet him without reluctance. Now, as her bones aged and her lungs grew weary, she watched him draw in close and instead of feeling relief, she found herself in a state of horror.

She didn't want to die.

How pathetic.

She didn't use to want to live. Now she didn't want to die. After the damage she caused, she had to live with the repercussions. She had to accept her own fault.

She was dying and she couldn't even cry without feeling sickened by herself. She was dying and she couldn't even feel bad.

She brought it upon herself. She couldn't cry injustice when faced with consequence.

Even as she unlocked the house she once called 'home' she cried. She became a sniveling mess stepping inside from the gathering clouds in the sky. She couldn't help herself. It was like mixing water with oil. There was relief in knowing the truth—the background—of her losses, but there was dread and guilt and regret in knowing the things she wanted most she could no longer have. There were drops of happiness in her puddle of distress. She wasn't allowed to feel one without the other.