Flowers of Glass

First Encounters

Chapter [3] - First Encounters

Sometime before Arthur made an advance towards the town's prude and days before Thomas Shelby made it his mission to actively pursued her, he met her. Scratch that. He saved her.

One night, (Name) was leaving the home of Mr. Alfred MacAskin. Alfred was an elderly gentleman. He had no family and no loved ones. Mr. MacAskin had fallen ill with a terrible disease. Due to her work for the local doctor in the city, who was also her father, (Name) had to attend to this ill man's needs.

She blessed him, gave him his medicine and attended him with a type of kindness which had been rarely shown to the older man. She left his house in the evening. The rain poured heavily outside in fat droplets that splashed the dirty cobblestone streets of Birmingham. Spreading her umbrella above her head she ducked from under the floor and made way home. Her shoes and socks were bone soaked as she walked in the rain. Having been a coal miner for most of his life, Mr. MacAskin lived far from (Name)'s own home.
(Name) clutched her purse closer to her body as she shied away from the British rain. A couple of street turns later she found herself walking outside of a local pub, The Garrison. She knew that it was commonly visited by gangsters and knew best to not even look at the establishment.
She could feel the eyes of the men in the pub watching her. Some let out low wolf whistles as they called after her.
You'd think the rain would keep the harassment at bay.

She stumbled on a misplaced block. The witnessed let out throaty laughs at her clumsiness. Regaining her balance she continued on her trip home and blocked off the words of the drunkards.

She turned on the street corner and stopped dead in her tracks. As she turned, she caught a strange man and a woman in a vulgar act. The woman mewled and moaned as the man got handsy with her. Lust reflected in both of their blinded eyes.

Embarrassed she let out a squeak and turned the opposite way. It was in her misroute that she suddenly felt a haunting feeling in her gut.
Through the tapping of the rain on rooftops and windows, she could hear them. A trio of men tailing just a couple of steps behind her. It didn't take long for them to catch up with her. They were loud as they hollered at her.

"Where ya goin'?" One of the men stepped in front of her. She sidestepped him and continued on her way with a serious expression.

'If you ignore them, they'll leave.'She repeated to herself in her head. She held her breath and shut her eyes tightly as she continued on her trek. It was simple. One step after the other. One step after the other.
"Where ya going' pretty thing?" another laughed as he reached for the hem of her skirt with a soaking wet hand. She smacked his hand away and dashed. She wasn't fast enough. One reached for her arm roughly.

"Don't touch me!" she shouted just right before smacking the individual on the face with her purse.
"Hey!" The individual slurred in a sultry tone. His meaty hand reached for her throat and he held it in place. "I asked where you're going to chavtastic whore." He spat, his breath reeked of alcohol and stronger drugs.

She bit her tongue. Funny how she had gone from being called a pretty thing to a cheap whore. She didn't know which one was worse.

"She ain't going nowhere," another man let out a throaty laugh as he whispered it in her ear. They took her umbrella and tossed it to the side. The rainwater greeted her skin with an unpleasant shiver.

"No!" She made a run for it. Two men grabbed her arms. "No!" She shouted in horror.

The other shoved her against the wall, she cried out in pain at the rough impact.

"Please don't!" Her voice strained, her face felt hot. Eyes began to pool with stinging tears.
"Take my money- Please-I'll give you anything-" She shouted as she begged them to stop.
"Charry aren't we?-" the middle one said slapping his hands over her mouth. Against all odds, she bit him. "Stupid bitch!" He said before knocking her a good one on the side of her face. She gasped at the pain.
She could feel his lecherous hands roaming her body. Raising her wet skirt up.
"It's going to be my turn after, I can't wait to feel that tight little cunt of yours," the other man said as he stuck out his hot wet tongue and traced her jawline. She cringed. She could feel the other's hands clenching onto her butt cheek. She tightened her legs closed together. The tears spilled. The man unbuttoned her shirt. He groped her breasts with his dirty hands. The tears continued spilling as she sobbed. "Please stop!" She wailed in desperation.
"Dear God- please make it stop!"

The man kissed her neck, her face, her lips. His beard scratched her wet skin. Her pleas didn't stop. She began sobbing a prayer as the violating act continued.

It worked. Both of the men suddenly froze. Their hands remained glued to her, yet were paralyzed. The air shifted. Fear spilled over the dark streets of the coal mining district.

"What's going on here?" A voice joined the party. The voice was cool and held a strong Birmingham accent.

She could only see the outline of the person in the darkness. It was clearly a man. Next to him stood two other individuals. They had a hefty build. One held an umbrella for the man standing in the middle. Despite the act having ceased, (Name)'s tears spilled.

"Oi, we're just having a little fun," the man who wasn't restraining her said turning around with a broad grin. His dick was sticking out of his pants. Despite it, the shadow remained unbothered.

There was a moment of fat silence amongst them.

"Get out of my sight before I slit your throats didicoy bastards." The man in the shadows spoke. It was clear he wasn't a copper. His voice was firm, yet held an olive oil smoothness to it.
Without any hesitation, the violators decided to skedaddle.

The grip on her arms lessened as they dropped it. There was a moment of tension that both of the groups exchanged.

"A'ight, we'll be off-" the man agreed nervously. He said something in a language that (Name) didn't understand and they pulled her away with them as they left the scene.
"No! Please!" She sobbed weakly as she struggled against their meat claws. The rain hadn't stopped.

"Leave her," the man ordered, his tone shifting to a more stern one. The accusers stopped. Their grip so tight on her she was certain it would bruise. Her prayers had been answered!

"I want her to myself."The man in the shadows spoke darkly. She took the former statement away.

Just like that, they dropped her- more like tossed her to the filthy wet ground. Like a used rag she was dropped. She immediately reached for her open shirt and hugged her body together in the best attempt to preserve whatever was remaining of her pride. The men stepped away laughing maliciously. To them, it hadn't meant anything.
Now, she was just chow for a bigger fish in town. He wanted her to himself. She knelt on a fetal position, tears streaming down face quietly as she held onto her body. The rain was hitting hard. It mixed with her tears.

He approached her. His footsteps meshing with the gravel underneath. He was hovering over her. She shrunk.
It was then that she suddenly felt a contrasting warmth surround her. She opened her eyes and realized that the stranger was not a copper. He had instead shielded her from the cold with his suit jacket. With her eyes wide she looked at the man before her. She still couldn't distinguish his features in the darkness of the night.

She held his jacket closer to her body and wiped her tears away slightly embarrassed. Their bodies were sheltered by an umbrella. One of the men held an umbrella over them. The other swiftly approached them with his head down and handed her the lost umbrella and her soaking wet purse. She combed some of the wet hair that was sticking to her forehead out of the way. The man gently placed a hand on her lower back and lead her towards the light. He remained silent. As did she. Small sniffling sounds could be heard escaping her lips.

Standing under a lamppost that's when she got a good look at him. Her heart stopped.

The man was tall. He had a square face with a strong bone structure. His high cheekbones were sharp. Hair dark was neatly trimmed on the sides. His lips were thin, nose straight and his eyes were an electrifying shade of gray.
He wore a hat, it took her a moment to see the subtle blades sticking out from it. His vest and matching suit jacket she now wore were made of the finest textiles she had ever felt. She could see his tattoos becoming transparent underneath his wet white undershirt. She swallowed hard.

She felt her breath escape her.

This was even worse.

It was none other than Thomas Shelby.
The patriarch of the Shelby clan. The leader of the Peaky Blinders. The most dangerous man in the city.

He eyed her oddly. His hand reached for the cross that hung around her neck and he twirled it on his fingertips.

"What's your name?" he asked with his silky voice. It seemed as if everything he said sounded absolutely imperative despite of the context. It was then that she realized he wasn't asking. He demanded to know her name.

"U-uh..." she stuttered, unable to form a cohesive sentence. His glare became more intense.
"I..." She opened her mouth but no sound came out. The only sound was the one of the rain falling around them.

"I-I...I have to go," she somehow managed to speak.

She stepped away from the man and ran. Ran as fast as she could.

"She-she's got your jacket-" one of Tommy's muscleman said. The Peaky Blinder simply raised his palm in dismissal. Curiosity and interest-filled Tommy. His eyes didn't once leave the woman's outline as she vanished into the darkness of the night.