Sticky crimson liquid dripped onto the ground from her fingertips as her arms hung limply by her sides. All she was able to do was blink. The rest of her body remained completely immobile as she stood rooted to the spot in the middle of a white medical tent, surrounded by men who were all on their deathbeds, screaming out in excruciating pain as they either bled out onto the white bed sheets covering them or succumbed to the infections that were ravaging their bodies from the inside out.
She couldn't do anything but watch as one by one they were picked off like flies by the cruel hands of death. No matter how hard she willed herself to move or shout for help, her screams remained trapped in her throat and she remained glued to the spot.
In what seemed like a couple minutes, she was left in the company of only one other living person, but she knew she would soon be left alone, surrounded by only the dead. She could see the glimmer of sweat coating the final man's body as he lay there on the bed nearest her with his face turned away from her. It was obvious he was close to death and as he took his last few breaths he used the last of his energy to turn his sweat-covered face to look her in the eye. "You could've saved us all. This... This is all your fault," he wheezed just as his body went limp.
However, she couldn't register the man's final words. She was too shocked by his identity to notice that his final words were blaming her for his death. It was her brother.
Only now that she was alone did her feet become unstuck, making her able to move. She immediately went to her lifeless brother's bedside and checked for a pulse, accidentally smearing the red substance that covered her hands all over his neck and face in the process. Nothing. There were no signs of life. Freddie was gone and there was no bringing him back, yet still she called his name as she wept and held his cooling hands in her own.
The last thing she saw before she was ripped back into consciousness was his glassy eyes that had last been used to glare at her in hatred.
Sophie bolted upright as Freddie managed to finally coax her out of whatever nightmare she had been trapped in. He had been woken by her screaming and immediately ran to her aid, almost injuring himself on the stairs as he sprinted up the rickety stairs in the dark, thinking that there was an intruder in the house. When he almost flung the door off its hinges however, he saw a much more heartbreaking sight. Sophie was writhing around in bed, screaming as tears poured from her closed eyes.
"You're alright, Soph," Freddie soothed, placing a hand on her shaking shoulder as she checked her hands for the substance that had been coating them only moments before.
Physically, she found her hands to be clean, but metaphorically she knew no matter how clean her hands were, there would always be blood on them. For the rest of her life she would never be able to forget about the patients she couldn't save in time. Or the nine Prussian soldiers she had to shoot to keep her still living ones safe.
"It was just a bad dream. You're at home in Small Heath. The war ended four months ago. You're safe," Freddie said, still trying to bring her back to the present.
Sophie looked up at him for the first time since he managed to wake her. She immediately felt guilty when she saw the tired expression on his face mixed amongst the obvious worry. He had been good enough to let her stay in his house for the night, even having gave up his bed for her, whilst all she had done was wake him up at ridiculous o'clock because of her pathetic nightmares.
"I'm sorry. I should've warned you about this," she said, sounding absolutely exhausted, once she was calm enough to sleep again.
Freddie sighed. "Don't apologise, It's not your fault, Soph. It happens to everyone who fought in that fucking war."
"I know that, but I should've warned you that this might happen," she sighed, with her head in her hands, before looking up. "You know, for some reason I actually thought all this shit would stop when I came home... but I guess that it's going to take a lot more than that."
"I'm guessing this is why you randomly decided to come back to this shit hole after all these years, ay?" Freddie smirked, trying to make her feel a bit less shit.
Sophie hesitated answering for a few seconds, knowing that the truth would cause him to either worry or pity her even more. No matter how hard he had tried to hide it, she saw the look he gave her earlier. "You should go back to sleep, Fred. I'll be fine." She yawned, not wanting to keep him up any longer when he needed to be up for work in a few hours.
It was very obvious to Freddie that she wasn't 'fine' at all, but he knew from his own experiences that it was difficult to talk to people about experiences from the war. "Alright, but if you need anything come and get me," he instructed as he stood up.
Sophie rolled her eyes in a playful manner. "I'll be fine, Freddie. You don't need to worry so much," she replied.
"What can I say, Soph? I'm your older brother. I can't help it. No matter how old you get, I'll always fucking worry about ya," he said, shrugging his shoulders as he closed the door behind him.
Sophie waited for the creak of the stairs to tell her Freddie was back downstairs, before she quietly crept out of bed and over to her handbag, where she felt around for her only source of comfort. A cigarette and small box of matches. Once she had acquired both she stood up and went over to the window. She quickly reached up to unlock it, before quietly pushing it up, being careful to not let it scrape against the sides. The last thing she needed was her brother running back up the stairs thinking she could no longer hack it and was trying to jump out the window.
The view from her brother's window was similar to that of her childhood bedroom as they both faced out onto the streets of Small Heath. However, the buildings lining her view were not the same. When Sophie was about a year into her training down in London, the house she spent her childhood growing up in on Watery Lane went up in flames. The damage was so bad that Freddie and their mother, who both still lived there, had to move to number 26 South Street where they lived until Freddie went to war, then during the war, Irene moved in with her close friend Peggy, who lived back on Watery Lane, to help save money. That was the last place she lived before she died.
As Sophie placed the much-needed cigarette between her lips, she carefully lit a match and held it to the end, before putting the match out and taking a deep inhale. Breathing out, she felt some of her stress temporarily leave her body. She held the cigarette away from her face whilst she did this and during the short time between this inhale and her next, a man appeared in her eye-line. He didn't look that tall, but she could tell by the way he was carrying himself, he wasn't doing anything good.
Everything from the fast pace he was walking that made the thick black coat he was wearing to trail in his wake like a cape, to the black leather gloves covering his hands, and the peaked cap sat on his head like a crown made him seem like he owned the streets. Like he was the king of Birmingham. Little did she know... he now was.
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Thank you for reading. Please feel free to tell me your opinions on this so far and sorry this part is quite short. After avoiding covid for over 2 years I now have it which means I might have more time to write this so there might be a new update soon since I can't go to work at the minute. (No promises though because I feel like shit)
P x
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Two Ghosts - Thomas Shelby
Fanfiction"We're not who we used to be We're not who we used to be We're just two ghosts standing in the place of you and me Trying to remember how it feels to have a heartbeat" 8 years ago Sophie Thorne was the light of Thomas Shelby's life. After a horrible...
