you are haunted like every other holy thing.
what tried to destroy you didn't have the strength.
still you stand,
sturdy and smelling of smoke.
- little bird, clementine von radics
༒
in which tommy shelby finds his asylum
in the ver...
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When they came back from the war, they were all still screaming. Screaming in their sleep, screaming for the lost ones, screaming at the nightmares only they could see. So many exquisite horrors drowned in opium or alcohol—or in the canal, on the worst nights.
As broken man after broken man came home from their so-called victory, the girl watched it all and said nothing. Her mother clutched her arm, face pinched and nervous, holding a bouquet of chocolate flowers which had cost them more than a month's worth of pay. The expense felt worth it, after four years of such terrible dread. For four years, they had woken up every morning wondering if this would be the day their world fell apart.
On the day the ship arrived, the girl had been eleven, not yet a teenager and not quite a child. She had stared between terrible wounds and bloodied bandages and haunted eyes and waited, longing only for a glimpse of the familiar laughter of her older brothers. When they'd left on a different ship three years ago, they'd been laughing—bright-eyed and eager for adventure, victims of the stories of glory plastered all over the papers.
And then she saw him. Albie.
Gasping, eyes burning with tears, the girl ran to him through the puddles frothing at the gutter, her boots wet with fresh mud and her dress hiked up in her hands. His head was downturned, and until he lifted it to look at her, the girl's smile beamed bright. She called his name like a songbird, like something immeasurably beautiful, a piece of fine art wrought from glass. Albie, Albie, Albie!
Her mother didn't follow, but the girl didn't stop to ask why. At last, her brothers had come home. At last, her life would be more than a shadow of the past, a catacomb filled with serious women and hard work and factories belching smoke. The war was won; the pain and the death and the dread was over! It was worth more than a thousand chocolate bouquets.
Then her brother looked up. The girl saw the grief in his eyes, the relentless trembling of his scarred hands, and she didn't smile again.
In her head, she was screaming.
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𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆
This book includes content which may be triggering for some readers, including themes of substance abuse, suicide, self-harm, anxiety, imprisonment, emotional abuse, neglect, murder, and more. Trigger warnings will not be placed before chapters due to the pervasiveness of these themes throughout and to avoid spoilers, so please read at your own risk. If you have any concerns or wish to speak to anyone, please feel free to contact me at any time, call a helpline in your area, and/or seek help from a professional.
𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑
The characters and plotlines of Peaky Blinders are not my own. Storylines and characters outside of the existing Peaky Blinders universe are my intellectual property.
This book takes place during and after Episode 4, Season 5 of Peaky Blinders, and includes some major spoilers for later parts of the show.
𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄
As someone who has survived some of the things represented in this book, it is important to me to portray them sensitively and well.
This story was originally created in order to fill the void of Season 6 while we waited, and to fill the part of me which was longing for all of this to come true in the show. Hopefully, it works the same magic for you, too.
