Tommy Shelby finally recognises the extent of his mental damage. An Illness that is eating away at his conscious being, devouring every last morsel of sanity in his head.
An illness that finally forces him to seek counsel from a professional.
To fi...
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The ghosts of the past of course lingered, unwelcome on Verity's mind for some time as she settled into the role she had lost around a year ago.
It felt alien at first, she had half worried she had lost her connection with people - her own traumatic experience with Tommy Shelby having paralysed her psychologist skills much akin the way a viper might immobilise it's prey.
But a few weeks of battling her demons, and dozens of cups of tea and chats with Henry soon made these worries dissipate. The psychiatrist had reminded Verity of her worth, of her abilities and the fact that she was simply remarkable at what she did.
And after experiencing so much hurt, betrayal and anger in her past life... Verity was wary to accept Henry's kindness at first, but he soon proved to be a genuine, and very trustworthy colleague.
It was safe to say Verity had returned to her calling much as a sailor belonged on the sea.
Still, despite the normality of her new life cementing in place and the past life of late nights, sultry songs and cigarette smoke in her lungs ever fading... there was still one fragment the psychologist was not willing to let go.
And that was a dear child by the name of Charlie.
She knew it had been risky when she first sought contact. Verity made an agreement with Charlie's music tutor to smuggle letters in for her. The psychologist so badly wanted to see how that boy was doing, he was the only pure light in that dark cavernous-like family... she almost felt it her duty to let him know she still, and would always care.
Of course, the anxiety of Tommy finding the letters and seeing her return address was prevalent - but since the first communication Verity had made it clear to the little boy that he mustn't let his father see the correspondence. For extra security, she had asked the tutor to retain the letters after Charlie had read them, and then the music teacher would also be responsible for mailing on Charlie's own responses so no letters were left laying around.
It was an entirely odd situation to say the least, feeling like writing to a young boy was so incriminating. What made things feel even worse for Verity was that this child was so aware by now of his father's own behaviours, the power he held and the negative influences they had. If she had been able to she would have just whisked him away, one thing Verity felt strongly about was preserving whatever childhood that boy had left.
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Dusk had fallen, the days were clocking by faster than ever now that the clinic was in full swing. The heat of summer was ever ebbing away, and long nights of sweet sunset hues were slowly being replaced with browning leaves and dominating blue sweeps of night fall across the evening skies.
The lamp in the office provided some illumination as Verity typed this month's letter to the young Shelby boy.
By now they had gotten into such a rhythm of knowing when to expect letters that they had started using abbreviated code names in the letters, for extra protection. Verity still wasn't sure how on earth this young boy grasped and appreciated the severity of her request for privacy on this situation, but she deeply appreciated it. It just humbled her that he was such an intelligent, kind and understanding young boy. He was everything that his father wasn't... which was a blessing.
