𝐋𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐈𝐧 𝐚 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐋𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞 🍞PEAKY BLINDERS 🥖

Chapter Sixty-Five

A shorty. And not the most edited. 

CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE

Suicide festered in Kizzie for another month.

Not wanting to do it—death was scary enough when it happened without you wanting it to. But of Tommy's suicide. Kizzie kept her and Linda's conversation close to her chest. Every day, she asked Michael or Arthur or Aunt Polly about Tommy. Was he well? Did he like her art that she sent to him? Was he feeling sad?

It wasn't until the third month when Kizzie heard he returned.

She sat in the stables with Dangerous and Dorothy. The horse ate his breakfast while Kizzie watched him, sitting on the dirty floor of the barn. She wondered what would happen to him and all the other horses if Tommy never came back. She felt her headaches subside, and the fuzziness behind her eye went away last month. So why was he not back yet?

Kizzie's heart was a hand-grenade. She spoke to no one about suicide. Didn't know how to. Each thump of her heart might be the one that pulled the pin.

Dorothy came up to her and curled her tail around Kizzie's leg. The cat always knew when she was sad. Kizzie believed animals were psych—they always knew. Even the temperamental Dangerous kept close to Kizzie. Rarely did he trot the fields if he knew Kizzie was near. Instead, he grazed within her eyesight. Kizzie wished she could tell them not to worry about her.

"Kizzie," Ozzy greeted.

He stood at the opening to the stable, hands in his front pockets. There was a lightness to him—he'd been under considerable stress with Tommy being gone.

"Hello."

"Tommy just got back. He wanted to see—"

Kizzie shot up like a rocket, effectively startling both Dorothy and Dangerous. She darted past Ozzy and ran into the back of the manor.

Adrenaline rushed into her ears. Tears spilled from her eyes. Snot crept out her nose. Kizzie couldn't move through the halls fast enough. She slipped on a rug and nearly face-planted.

"Miss Shelby!" Mary called after the girl rushed past her.

But Kizzie couldn't stop. She needed to make sure he was alive. That he wasn't teetering on the edge like Arthur.

She launched Tommy's office door open and came to a screeching halt.

Tommy sat at his desk, body rigid until seeing his baby sister.

"Kizzie," he greeted, with a smile. But it fell like glass the moment he saw her distress. "Kizzie—"

She remained stopped at the door. Her eyes widened at seeing him—nothing was different. But nothing was the same, either. Could she see the suicide in his colors if she tried hard enough?

His blues flowed like water and reached her. Like fog on the ground, his colors skimmed the tops of her shoes. Nothing...suicidal about them. But how good was Arthur at hiding his truth from the family? From Kizzie?

Her sudden, loud whimper, sprang her brother into action. He stood and quickly reached her.

"Hey," he cooed. "Kizzie, what is it? What happened?"

Kizzie couldn't form words. She felt reduced to a stupid baby like Charles; mumbling and crying and shaking.

Tommy cupped her face and tried drying her cheeks. "Lambkin, look at me. Breathe."

Her warped face broke his already broken heart.

"Don't go," she pleaded, in Shelta. "Please."

He shook his head. "I'm right here, lambkin."

"But you're sad. Sad people go away."

A chill doused Tommy. "What do you mean?"

"S-suicide."

"Who taught you that word?" He gripped her tighter. "Who?"

"Linda was worried about how sad you were... She told me about Arthur."

Poison slipped into Tommy's soul at her revelation. Fucking Linda. She had no right to tell his sister about such a thing. Kizzie barely understood natural death—let along suicide.

"Please don't go away," she pleaded like a child.

"Kizzie—"

"No matter what happens to anyone. Even Charles. Even me."

His blue eyes snapped to her own. Pressed his forehead to hers. "I promise you."

She hugged her brother with an iron grip. Tommy matched her strength and rocked them gently.

"Even if we die," she whispered.

Tommy's heart stilled. He wanted to lie. If Kizzie ever...he told himself he would not last long without her. But he had never seen his sister so overcome with emotion. Not even when their father died.

"I promise."

And he meant it.

He held his sister until she fell asleep in his arms. Gently picked her up and made her comfortable on the ottoman in his office. Tommy moved the hair from her face and kissed her cheek. 

But then came the rage again. 

He stood, back slightly hung like an elderly man. The weight of her words would not leave him for some time.

Tommy reached for his phone and dialed the number he knew by heart.

"Arthur... Please come over. And bring Linda with you."

Author's Note:

This will probably be the last chapter for the month. It's been a rough one for my PMDD.