The Untold Story of Mary Shelby (A Peaky Blinders Fan-Fiction)

Chapter 3 Devils Doom (1 of 2)

WARNING

LANGUAGE WARNING - LOTS OF SWEARING

VIOLENCE INCLUDED

SEXUAL VIOLENCE ENDURED 

If you are not comfortable with these themes, please go to the bottom of this chapter, you will find a short chapter description, with no details or explicit content in order for you to be able to follow the plot later on :) 

sorry for the inconvenience.

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Around an hour later at The Garrison, and the Shelby's were ready to leave, all of them extremely drunk, though Mary doubly as drunk, slumped in her brother's arms. Smoke was drifting around the room and created a dim haze that hid the drunkness from their faces. The table in front of them was covered in ashtrays, empty glasses and tonnes of empty bottles scattered around. 

The pub was virtually empty,  only a few regulars left sipping pints to pass the night away. Twelve AM was always a depressing hour, an hour when little happened, an hour of almost depression. The day had ended, a new one had started and was a time when not many people had anything left to do. 

Mary was currently resting on Tommy, finally finding some inner peace within herself, gaining back a bond the war had killed. She wasn't actually as drunk as they all thought, but it was a good enough excuse for her to be so comfortable with her brothers, and finding huge comfort in Tommy's arms. 

"Alright, then boys, time to get Mary home", Tommy said, never drunk enough to forget his responsibilities. He looked down at Mary again, love happiness filling his heart up, knowing that once again, he was his little sister back. The boys all nodded and stood up, ready to exit their private room, while Tommy picked his little sister up in a bridal style and carried her out the room, her small body making it easy for Tommy to lift her. She was too drunk to walk safely and too sleepy to be fully conscious, carrying her was the best way forward, but also took Tommy back to the times of when she was a young and stubborn girl who would refuse to go to bed, and Tommy had to carry her upstairs and force her to stay in bed, sitting on a small wooden chair in her room until he knew she was asleep. As infuriated as he got during these times, he also mourned them and wishes he could turn back time, things were simpler then. More desirable. 

As the three boys walked out of the pub, and up the cold streets of Birmingham, their flat caps shadowing their faces and outlining their heads, even now, in the dark, people could recognise them. They all stumbled their way up the muddy path, bolts of fire flying across different sides of them with the blacksmiths and factory workers still grafting hard, each time lighting up their faces with a hot, yellow glow. Mary looked dead. She wasn't, just very intoxicated, and Tommy was sure that this wouldn't happen again. 

The streets were deadly silent, a dullness settling in the air, with the sky above completely clear of any clouds, allowing the stars to shine through. A small glimpse of the sky seeped through Mary's half-shut eyes making her remember the conversation with Fin she had that day. Opening her eyes fully and gleamed at the sky above, taking in the full beauty that lay above, letting her mind drift off into a mysterious place that nobody, not even Mary could explain. A place only alcohol can take you. Though, she was fully aware that she was being carried by Tommy, and was actually enjoying being treated by a princess for once. Tommy looked down at her face, noticing her eyes were slightly crossed and smiled at her innocence. 

Suddenly, there was a group of men following them, around eight or nine, all dressed in white shirts with dark black coats, with their hair swept over to one side, coated in a thick layer of gel that made it glisten in the firelight. Taking deep lunges, catching up to the Shelby's, knives in their hands, and guns tucked in their trousers, they were ready for a fight. They were ready to kill. John had heard their footsteps and took a glimpse behind him to see the large group of men quickly catching up with him, quickly tapping Arthur and Tommy's shoulders, he started to panic and spoke in fear, adrenaline not yet kicking in -"Its Bate's fucking lads. Tommy, it's them! behind us!" John whispered in their ears, as Tommy panicked about Mary still being in his arms, all groggy and barely awake.