˗ˏˋ꒰ 💰 ꒱ ━ ☐ Thomas Shelby never thought he would fall in love with a whore. In the bustling streets of 1920s Birmingham, Alicent, a prostitute since her teenage years, with her irresistible charm, had only one goal : to make money. Every encounte...
౨ৎ ᡣ𐭩⋆.˚ ❝GRIEF IS A WOMAN TOO❞ user84754384 ꩜ 2024 🚬🥃🩸⚰️💊 thomas shelby xoc
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That day, determined to see her, he went to her place with a bouquet of white roses. He paused for a moment in front of the door, taking a deep breath to chase away his anxiety. His fingers brushed against the rough surface of the wood, and he knocked gently.
"Alicent ?" he called out, his voice echoing in the silence.
No response. A slight panic washed over him. He knocked again, a bit harder, but still nothing. A knot of anxiety formed in his stomach. She never left this place.
He knocked once more, this time with more insistence. The silence was heavy, suffocating. He felt his heart race and glanced around, as if the answer could be hiding somewhere in the neighborhood, but everything seemed so quiet, so normal, as if nothing were wrong.
The anxiety became unbearable. He knew he could wait no longer. With a kick, he broke down the door, splintering it apart. The smell that greeted him was nauseating, a mix of decay and despair clinging to the air, almost choking him.
He stepped into the room, the afternoon light cutting through the dust, revealing the disorder around him. Items were strewn across the floor — crumpled clothes, empty bottles — and in the midst of the chaos, he spotted Alicent's body lying on the bed, motionless.
His hands trembled as he leaned toward her, his heart sinking at the sight of her face, both serene and tragic. Her eyes were closed, her pale skin contrasting sharply with the darkness of the room.
His eyes widened as he caught sight of a metal hanger, covered in dried blood. A wave of disgust and understanding hit him like a punch to the gut. The reality of the situation crashed down on him with devastating force.
Tears welled up in his eyes, and he began to cry, mourning the life she had carried, the dreams she had left behind, and the pain she must have endured alone.
And there, in the solitude of that small room, despair consumed him. The white roses slipped from his hands, falling slowly into the dark blood that had pooled around her, a tragic symbol of a beauty lost forever.
