As the youngest Shelby child and twin to Finn Shelby, Kezia has spent the last 4 of her 10 years locked away for her mental defectiveness.
She returns to Small Heath under the legal guardianship of her brother, Thomas Shelby. Despite knowing she's s...
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Not edited. I wanted to get an update published.
CHAPTER NINETY-SIX
Her hair wasn't naturally black.
Might have been brown, or a dark blonde. She hadn't seen it in four years. The men who brought her here said she would look more appealing with black hair, that it would make her blue eyes stand out more.
They weren't wrong.... But she felt...strange.
Someone in her life before coming here had black hair and blue eyes. And each time she looked at herself in the mirror, nostalgia pierced her soul. Not the nice type of nostalgia, either. The type that guts you like a fish and leaves you in a sad mood for the rest of the day.
Alice sat behind her and applied the dye. "Almost done," she said.
Angela fought against her instincts to respond with what she wanted to say; it was a simple word, but one that was overused and made her look retarded. When she came here four years ago, she was beaten for saying it. But even now, the word hung in the back of her throat, begging to come out. Did her life before this accept her for who she was? Or did they pretend? Get her thrown out and sold to the highest bidder?
Opium on the table sat unopened and for her.
"You should take some now," Alice told her. "It will ease into you sooner so you won't have a bad night."
"I know." But she hated taking it. The medication didn't make her feel relaxed. Physically, yes, but mentally, she was doing laps around her skull. Every color in the room was magnified, every voice echoed over and over again.
Depending on how she looked in the mornings, because some days were harder than others, Madame gave her more. So much that Angela felt paralyzed. Those were her best nights, where she made the most money.
Angela reached for the bottle. The glass was cool against her skin. The opium was mixed with something else, to cut the bitter taste of the drug. Even the smell reminded her of the past. Someone may have used in her life... Or, more likely, she was raised in an opium den. That's what Madame told her--Angela was so unfazed by seeing the drug, watching people use.
She would have given anything to remember what her life was like... Even if it was awful, it was still hers.
Angela unscrewed the top and took the spoon from the table. Behind her, Alice worked through the last bit of dye through her strands. This was good. Taking this now, she would be numb by the time they went back into the club later tonight. Her hair would be black again and Angela would feel nothing.
She dipped her head back and took a swig. The bitterness swirled on her tongue, melted into her mouth. Already she felt herself go numb. She swallowed. The thick syrup fell down her throat and left a trail of numbness. Madame said that she got her supply from Britain. There was a large gang outside of London that had a monopoly on the stuff. Angela would like to see Britain one day. She heard it was beautiful and old and rustic and it always rained.
She loved the rain. New York didn't often rain the way she liked--heavy and constant all day with a chilly breeze.
"Nice," Alice told her, once Angela placed the now empty bottle back onto the table. "Let this sit for an hour and then take a shower."
"Okay."
It slipped out. Sometimes it did.
Angela curled in her shoulders and waited, felt her muscles tighten. She didn't think Alice would hurt her. She never had before. But Angela was forbidden to use that word. The girls had to tell Madame so punishment could be rendered; letting one "okay" slide meant a hundred more would pour out of Angela like a flood.
Alice smiled. "It's okay. I won't say anything. I think it's cute."
"W-what?"
She shrugged and collected the box of dye in her hand. Angela moved to help by picking up the bowel filled with left-over dye. "Yeah. Makes you seem human. I had a brother with special needs. It was a bit more obvious than with you, but my parents would still beat him for it. Especially when he acted out in public. He embarrassed them... It was unfair to him. He couldn't help who he was." She curled some of her red hair behind her ear and smiled.
Angela smiled too. Her body relaxed. "I don't remember who I was."
"Which is a damn shame... But that's the thing about fighting memory. It always finds a way to come back to you." She frowned. "I just hope that when it does, it doesn't knock you on your back."
The bite of nostalgia threatened to consume her heart. The opium was working too slowly; maybe the drug was also meant to prevent her from remembering, from feeling. "I hope not."
"But it's okay. I'll be there to help you if you want it... Us girls gotta stick together, right?"
