Heaven and Hell Bound - Tommy Shelby

Shrapnel. Bandages. Death. No more was the smell of dinner, Ma Ma's delicate flowers or the hay bales encompassing of my life. Rather, the screams of the shell-shocked, the staining of blood on my apron and the heavy stench of grief. In writing, France was a most beautiful place, a heavenly place. Heaven had been invaded by hell, and the devil's grasp is suffocating. My name is Y/N L/N of the British Voluntary Aid Detachment and it was in this nightmare, that I met my angel.