TROUBLE ━━━━━━━
(shelby sister!oc x peaky blinders)
Peaky Blinders, season one - six
━━━━━━━
IN WHICH, Clara Shelby must
come to terms with the fact
that life is changing for her
and her ragtag family.
( extended summary inside )
━━━...
CONTENT WARNING:This chapter contains topics that may be sensitive to some readers. I would like for everyone to please reread my warning at the beginning of this act (found in the chapter titled 'Act three') before continuing. This chapter touches on excessive drug use, poor mental health and alcoholism. For those who are struggling, my dms are open all the time and please seek help if you need it <3
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☆
Drip, drip, drip....drip
CLARA SHELBY WANTED TO SLAM her head against the wall so hard that she'd lose all semblance of reality as the water from a leaky pipe splattered onto the stony floor. She sat hunched over her knees, her arms loosely dangling between her legs. Her shirt sleeves had been rolled up above her elbows, her coat and jacket both having been confiscated upon arrival at the station. She had been searched and patted down thoroughly when she'd been brought in, her brown envelope full of documents and a paper bag with three bottles of cocaine had been located and removed along with her lighter and cigarettes. She thanked the earth that she had luckily not been wearing her gun that night, having left it beneath the seat in her car, (and that her jacket was so thick that the other vials of snow hadn't been found).
She hadn't seen anybody in hours as she sat in complete stillness. The holding cell was dark and grimy, its wall cold and confining. Clara hated it. She hated the cell and the policeman and her temper and herself mainly, honestly. She would be lucky if she only got charged with assault and possession— but then again, she could try to pass the cocaine as prescribed...but that was only if they didn't sniff out the bottles within her jacket lining. In simpler, more layman's terms, she was truly and utterly screwed in more ways than one.
Clara had been allowed her singular telephone call, a call she had to ponder far before she dialled the number. She couldn't exactly call Tommy, he was still on bed rest at home probably getting high whenever possible and god only knows where Arthur was. She had the sinking feeling of loneliness set in as she considered and reconsidered all of her options. She'd eventually called one of her very last thoughts and was now simply awaiting to try to be bailed out of this situation.
She had to stop doing this. She had to stop turning to others with her problems. Clara made a mental note to ensure that this would be the last time she would call for help. She was smart, she could handle her consequences...yes, she could absolutely handle her consequences. She'd done it before, she could do it once more. Clara's back had begun to ache as she rolled her shoulders and grimaced at the cracks that resounded. She didn't know what time it was, too long had passed and the lack of a window in the holding cell provided little knowledge.
The water still dripped steadily on the opposite side of the cell, each drop scraped away a layer of self-control as Clara fought the itch to stop it one way or another. Her high had slowly faded as soon as she entered the cell and she couldn't stand it. Her hands shook carefully from where they hung and her brain was regaining full clarity. She hated it. She needed to take more snow. But she needed to get out of here to do that. Her foot bounced rapidly against the floor as her back touched the wall behind her. The silence around her was beginning to sound a lot like stirring voices as they urged her to do things Clara refused to repeat.
