Sunbeam

20) How is she?

"I still haven't forgiven you for that stunt you and Tommy pulled at the races," Grace states.

"You were never in any danger, Grace," Kez sighs.

"And that makes whoring me out okay?" Grace scoffs, "how would you feel if someone whored your sister out?"

"I get your point, Grace, it wasn't okay for us to use you like that, and I apologise," Kez says, taking a sip from her drink.

"There's singing tonight," Grace informs.

"Then I guess I'll be leaving for the chain real soon," Kezia responds.

"You won't stay?" Grace asks.

"To hear some drunk knobs sing?" Kezia scoffs.

"There's dancing too," Grace says.

"Even more reason for me to leave," Kezia states.

"From what I remember, you're quite a good dancer," Grace winks.

"Oh, I'm good at anything I put my mind too," Kez shrugs.

"I'm guessing you've never put your mind to modesty then," Grace teases.

"I was raised in a competitive household, modesty isn't in my vocabulary," Kezia responds.

"You might enjoy yourself tonight, you'll never know if you never try," Grace says.

"I'll need a few more drinks in me if I'm going to try anything of the sort," Kezia replies, finishing her drink.

"Oh, I'm sure someone around here can keep you topped up," Grace laughs, grabbing what she knew was Kez's favourite whiskey and re-filling her glass.

"Is it just you working tonight?" Kez asks.

"No, I think Bea is coming in an hour or so," Grace states.

-

"Have you seen Ada?" Kezia asks.

"I'm busy, Kez," Bea responds, gesturing to the queue of men waiting to be served.

"Oh I'm sure they don't mind," Kez replies, glancing at them, "do you?"

There was a chorus of, "no, no we don't mind at all."

"See, they don't mind, how's my sister?" Kez says.

"This can wait," Bea states, turning to the man beside Kez, "what can I get for you?"

The man stays silent, glancing between Beatrice, who looked agitated, and Kezia, who was finding the entire situation a little amusing.

"If nobody else is going to order, then I fucking am, I fucking mind," a guy says, shooting a pointed look at Kez as he steps out of the queue. He had a Welsh accent, he wasn't from round here.

"There's a queue," Beatrice states, "you're going to wait your turn, these men were before you."

"They were before me were they, darkie?" The man chortles.

"Kez, sit," Beatrice commands, noticing that Kezia was standing from her chair.

"You're going to serve me, and you're going to serve me now, you fucking black," the man sneers down at Beatrice, spitting onto the bar, "wipe it up, slave."

Kezia doesn't say a word, she grabs the man by the throat chucking him up against a nearby pillar.

"Kez, leave it," Bea pleads.

"Beatrice, stay out of it," Kez states, not taking her eyes off the man in front of her, she was deciding where to cut him first, how she could cause him the most pain and prolong his inevitable death.

"Don't use that tone with me," Beatrice bites back.

"Outside we go," Kez says, shoving the man towards the door, looking back towards Bea, "you stay in here."

Once outside, Kez retrieves her gloves from her pocket, placing them on her hands before removing the dagger from the sheath of the holster she wore, she'd made it herself and sharpened it every other day.

"What the fuck is this place?" The man exclaims, feeling the honed knife pressing against his throat.

"You're in Birmingham, it's best to know exactly who the fuck you're talking to before mouthing off," Kezia states, nicking his neck slightly.

"I'm guessing saying sorry won't help?" The man whimpers, glancing down as Kez trails the knife along his collarbone, tapping it slightly and tilting her head, "no, no it won't," she shakes her head, turning the knife up before stabbing it down into his shoulder, resisting the urge to smile as he screams out in agony as she twists the blade before slowly pulling it diagonally down his body stopping just above where his heart would be.

"Please, I'm sorry, I am," he pants, standing hazily, practically leaning his head onto Kez's shoulder as she trails the bloody knife across his chest, and then down a little, plunging the knife just below his ribs, and he lets out a gasped breath as if he were choking.

"I don't want to die," he pleads, his eyes widening in fear as he spots the blade in front of his face, "don't, please, please, no."

"I'm a Blinder, it's what we do," Kez shrugs, dragging her knife over his eyes, creating a deep incision, the man was struggling against her, trying to push her away, but he was losing blood, he was in pain, he didn't stand a chance. He never stood a chance.

"What's your name?" Kez queries, the bloodstained blade once again resting against his throat.

"Graham," he whispers, breathing heavily.

Kez tuts, "well, Graham, I think I've heard enough out of you for one night, I don't think I want to hear another word."

Forcing his mouth open, she grabs his tongue and leisurely works her knife against it until it was separated in two, him retching as she did.

"Why don't you keep this for safe keeping?" Kezia suggests, placing the separated piece of tongue back into his mouth and closing his jaw assertively.

"I mean this from the depths of my heart, Graham, I hope you rot in hell," Kezia states, "and I suggest that when you arrive in hell, you run as far away from the gates as you can, because when I'm inevitably sent there too, I am going to hunt you down, and I'm going to make you relive every single moment of this, except you won't be able to die, you can't bleed to death if you're already dead, you won't be able to escape me."

Kezia hums softly to the music coming from inside the pub, watching the man suffer like the sadist she was, before sliding her knife through his neck until it hit the wall he was pressed against. He falls limp against her, she only holds him up long enough to clean her knife with his pocket square before letting him drop to the cobbled floor, placing the knife back into its sheath.

"What've we just missed?" John asks, turning the corner with his brothers and Theresa, seeing his older sister soaked in blood stepping away from a motionless heap of a man on the floor.

"Oh that's Graham," Kezia states.

"And what did Graham do?" Tommy questions.

"Got rude to the wrong person... obviously," Kezia says.

"You?" Arthur queries, and she shakes her head, "Bea."

"What'd he say to Bea?" Tommy inquires.

"The wrong things evidently," Tess jokes.

"He made some comments that were unappreciated," Kezia shrugs, noticing the pub doors open and Bea standing there, "are you actually insane?"

"This seems like a private conversation, boys," Theresa says, nudging the brothers indicating they should go inside.