THE WILDEST OF THEM ALL - a Peaky Blinders fanfiction
-IN WHICH all sorts of things happen, at home and outside, every day, but Darcy doesn't recall having ever thought that in the life she had there was particularly bad. Life was like that, that's...
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She miscalculated. Darcy miscalculated, and there was nothing she could do to undo it, nothing to ease the pain in her chest, nothing at all, because she was no longer Shelby but Sabini.
Perhaps she could burn down everything, perhaps she could kill her husband right then and there and run away — or better: burn herself down with the rest of them because the people close to her were right: no form could ever contain Darcy, and that sooner or later she would break everything again.
She would.
But not at that moment.
She hadn't been there in the head when her brothers put her in the car next to her husband, her puffy wedding dress getting stuck in the cracks of the door, ripping in the process. Darcy couldn't hear the words of Polly and Ada as they tried to calm her down, she couldn't see where the omen — Darby Sabini was, she couldn't fight her brothers when they pushed her through the crowd and into the car that would drive her to her honeymoon.
Except there was no honeymoon. No leaving everything behind like they plotted to, Darcy and Richard. No erasing the before, no giving their names new meaning.
She should've known, she should've fucking known.
Darcy didn't speak until the car stopped.
"Right," Her husband, the fool, spoke, "We're here."
She looked outside, frowning. "Where?"
"Home."
He didn't have to guts to move her to London, he knew she would've killed him on the way, put her knife through his heart, slit his throat, or better yet — take control of the steering wheel and drive them to their death.
Richard Sabini bought a house in Birmingham, in the suburbs but not too far from the city center. It was a different neighborhood from Polly's, perhaps he also had that in mind, afraid of that fortune-teller, vulture and witch of an aunt of hers coming over and killing him.
She must've been quiet for a while, because he changed all of a sudden.
"Darcy," He breathed, "You're gonna have to talk to me at some point. Come on, let's get inside."
She continued to keep quiet, to stare in front of herself. Her husband put his palm on his mouth and let his eyes drip.
"Darcy—"
"I'm not going inside." She said, suddenly. "Not with you."
He closed his eyes and exhaled. "Now listen to me," He said softly, "There are serious reasons for what happened."
He started explaining in placid tones why things happened in the way they did, why his father came, and why he didn't tell her. He was mumbling and sounded so sure of himself — but Darcy ignored him. Not purposely, his words were so meaningless they went in one ear and out of her other.
