It's the roaring twenties in Birmingham, the Peaky Blinders exist alongside God but they were much, much closer at hand than Him. Mercedes de Silva, thornless withered rose, petals filled with sorrow. Thomas Shelby, ruthlessly ambitious, conflicted...
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THE SKY WAS CRYING, and the lightning and thunders were its heartbeats. She always finds the rain beautiful despite its darkness, and somehow it reminds her that even the sky cries too. For a while, she felt that it was okay not to be okay—to accept the pain in her chest that was holding her tears back. She was staring at herself in the mirror, begging to be stronger once more.
"It breaks my heart to see you like this, Señorita," the woman behind her said as she brushed her long black hair. "What am I supposed to do, Mirasol?" Mercedes asked, her bloodshot eyes fixed on the maidservant's reflection in the mirror.
Mirasol sighed and set the wooden hairbrush on the vanity mirror's desk. "I'm not sure, Señorita... Perhaps you should consider Señorito Iago's take on running away," she responded, braiding Mercy's hair.
"You know how ridiculous that plan sounds, right? Papá would find us in instant," Mercy bit the inside of her cheek, "And, I don't want to leave Soledad here," she added.
"Now, don't you worry Señorita, Don de Silva's decision is not final yet. Everything could change in a snap, nothing lasts forever," hearing those words from Mirasol made the weight on her shoulders feel lighter. She was lucky that she has a friend like Mirasol, and she would've gone insane if it weren't for her.
"Do you want to run away from here?" Mercy asked her maidservant, everyone in their hacienda was aware of Antonio de Silva's cruel nature. If his servants or workers looked at him in the wrong way, he would often punish them. There were rumors in their town that Antonio would kill his business enemies if they got in his way.
Mercedes believed the former, but the latter? It was too much, her father may be vile but he wasn't a murderer.
"I would if you would, Señorita," Marisol smiled at her warmly, finishing up the braid.
