mozzafiato ➝ peaky blinders

tre

manhattan, new york
december, 1925

-

They were very, very drunk. And it was very, very late. 

Sabine struggled with opening her front door, jamming it anywhere but the keyhole with a look of frustration on her face as everyone looked on blearily, laughing, clamouring. 

Usually, at the end of of night such as this, Gianna was completely clear-headed. Her back would be straight, a cigarette balanced between her lips, and her clothes and hair would be impeccable. Being completely in control of her mind and body, she would come to the rescue and gently take the key out of Sabine's fumbling hands, unlock the door with ease, and usher her tipsy friends inside.

But, that night, Gianna could barely think straight. Her head felt too heavy on her shoulders, her hair a frizzy mess, and her hands felt inexplicably dysfunctional. She couldn't have struck a match to light a cig, let alone unlock the door for her friend. She could only watch, somehow unable to reach out and feel.

Eventually, Sabine cracked the door open, and stepped out of the way for everyone to enter. She gave them all an urgent look as they spilled in, giggling, willing them to be silent. And they complied, squeezing their mouths shut. 

No-one really wanted to awaken Mrs Nikola. 

With no-one to guide them, it took what felt like forever for the girls to stumble up the stairs and into Sabine's room. And when they eventually reached the safety of the pastel, musky smelling bedroom, most had barely reached the mats that had been laid out earlier that night before passing out, arms and legs bent at odd angles. 

Most of them.

After crumpling to the floor beside her friends, Gianna Changretta lay awake, thinking. As she did most nights, in fact. And despite the depressants in her system, her brain felt like a live wire in her heavy head, as if fluorescent lights flashing and whirling. 

She let out a heavy sigh, and dragged a hand down her face, smudging her eye makeup. God, that had been a stupid move.

Gianna never drank over her limits for a reason. 

Not only did too much alcohol make her mind spin and flash, it collapsed those walls that kept away those bad thoughts. And those bad thoughts would spin and flash amongst the rest.  

She lay, quite still, on the floor, staring at the ceiling, as her mind flashed with images and words.

Her father. Her family. Her dead grandfather and uncle. Her wasted adolescence. 

Leon.

-

Only when she was five streets away from Sabine's house did Gianna realise that she had managed to remember her gun and holster, but had somehow left her beautiful warm coat and scarf at the end of her friend's bed. She cursed under her breath, drawing her arms around her slim frame. The shivering made sense now.

Normally, she would have headed back, fetched her coat, and carried on her way. But, she couldn't. She didn't know why, but she had to go there at that very moment, or she was going to break.

Every step she took was an effort. Her head was pounding, her body both light and heavy at the same time. She wanted nothing more than to go straight home, crawl under her soft, warm covers, and go back to sleep.

But she continued to put one foot in front of the other, slowly making her way down the empty street, shivering in the icy morning air. 

She had to see him.