Isiah shifts his weight in the uncomfortable chair for the third time within the hour. He stretches his legs out in front of him trying to bring some life back into the dead limbs. He wonders how Rose is able to sit in this chair for hours putting on makeup for a party or when they go out for a night. Polly had put him on babysitting duty while they ran business down stairs. By this time of day however, the den downstairs was empty and quiet. Bets had been made. Bets had been lost. Bets had been won. It was just Isiah left in the house now and of course Rose who was still trembling even in her sleep.
He sat there and just watched her. She looked like a child in the amount of blankets Polly had piled on top of her. Her pillow had been smudged with a mix of mud and blood from her hair and face. Isiah stood from his chair and stretched his arms over his head, the floor boards creaked under his weight. The slight creak was enough to stir Rose awake, she sat straight up which sent a shooting pain through her side. She ignored it as her eyes finally focused and fell onto the sight of the boy. Immediate reassurance ran through her body as she lowered herself back down, relaxing again into the bed.
"Ah well good morning Princess," he smirked at the sight of her, sitting there looking like a child. Eyes tightly shut to block out any light, her hair was a disaster of dark curls shooting out in all directions. Polly had taken off her clothes down to her slip, one of the straps had fallen off her shoulder and hung down by her arm now. Even though she looked the way she did, he still found her beautiful in all of the mess. "Sleep well?"
"Oh quelle surprise, they left you with me?" Her voice was rough and coarse as if she been screaming for hours. She finally blinked the sleep out of her eyes as she laid there looking up at Isiah.
"Can I say, I have never been more attracted to you than I am right now." He knew this was a terrible time to mess with her but he couldn't resist it. He also knew she would appreciate the insults, causing her to forget what she has gone through earlier that day.
"Well, good thing I don't live for your appreciation now do I?" She placed her hands on the mattress on each side of her and pushed herself back up to a sitting position. She winced as the pain in her side returned as she moved. She took her hand and put it over her ribs, as if holding that spot would make it stop hurting, until she was comfortably sitting up.
"They fucked you up rightfully didn't they?" Isiah took a seat again in the vanity chair, leaned forward elbows resting on his knees. The anger boiled slowly inside of him, it swelled more and more with every new thought about what they did to her. The fact another man had laid their hands on her was enough to send him into a frenzy already. He crammed all those thoughts into a closet in his brain, not out of the house entirely though. He knew one day, maybe soon maybe not, he would need to unleash all those thoughts to release that blood thirst he had. He couldn't explain it but ever since he joined the Peaky Blinders, he was blood thirsty all the time. Fighting and killing gave him a buzz so high the cocaine couldn't even reach it. He longed for it. Lusted for it. Any chance he had of feeling that high he took with arms wide open. Killing random men because Thomas told him too, gladly. Setting up a party knowing unwelcomed guest would make an appearance, resulting in a riot in the middle of the jazz band playing. Going to little pubs after they had closed and drenching every barstool, table, and everything else in petrol before taking out a lighter and sparking the wildfire. Whatever it was, he invited death into his life when he joined the gang. Between the drugs, booze, and killing, he wondered which one was going to kill him first. Little did he know it would be the girl, broken and bruised sitting in front of him, that would the cause of his death.
"Welcome to the fucking Peaky Blinders." her voice breaks his concentration as he looks up at her. Her icy blue eyes had glazed over and her face didn't hold the normal look of pride she normally had. She looked broken, physically and mentally. They got her and pissed him off more. He couldn't sit any longer as he noticed his legs were shaking from passion. Now a days to him, rage and passion were synonymous in his world.
He jumped up from the chair and started pacing back and forth in her room.
"They hurt you." His thoughts numbed down to simplicity as the lust for blood started to take over his body.
"They did. They did hurt me. And one day, not today, we will hurt them back. But please, I have enough people in Small Heath that are angry at this that could create enough power to run the Garrison. Okay? Please, you know how relieved I was when I saw you and not a family member when I woke up. The way Thomas or Polly or Ada or fucking any of them would sit here and patronize me on end until I told them everything. Until I relieved every single detail of today over and over and over again." He sat down on the edge of the bed as she spoke, her eyes widen with craze as the reality of her world was slowly sinking in around her.
"Hey, hey, hey. Rose you're all right, okay? I promise, I will not let another man hurt you. Ever again. By order of the Peaky Blinders." He leaned in and whispered the last sentence, then he sat back against the frame next to her.
She gave a weak smile at his attempted efforts of cheering her up. She titled her head over until it rested on his shoulder and they sat like that for a while. Truth be told, she had always fancied him just as much as he did her. He wasn't much younger than she and clearly he knew the family business well enough. He was well looking and had a charm to him she couldn't get enough of.
"Jesus I'm still freezin'." She grabbed the top blanket and pulled it up to her. She genuinely sounded like a Brummie for the first time since she was 13. When she turned 13, she decided her Brummie accent was ugly and decided to change it. Now a days, she held her accent in a posh way trying to appeal to the likes of the classy class. He chuckled at the picture of the bright-eyed freckled-face 13 year old tomboy he used to run around fields in chasing with a dead mouse he had found.
They stayed in the same position for hours. Her head on his shoulders. His legs extended and crossed forward, hands clasped together in his lap. He leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. She tucked her knees up once again to her chest and tilted her entire body into his. The two bodies laying in coexistence together, until the sound of the den front door opening and slamming shut rang out through the air.
"Rose!" The voice of a particular Thomas Shelby came from downstairs.
Isiah immediately got up from the bed and went back to sitting in the vanity chair. He shifted his weight in the chair for the first time within the hour.
YOU ARE READING
Bullets & Pearls
Fanfiction"You are protected by your brothers. You are respected by society. You are as well expected to hold yourself to higher standards. You are a Shelby." "Oh is that an order? I can't tell Thomas, are you saying that as a Peaky Blinder or as my brother...
