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 )
━━━...
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☆
CONTRARY TO POPULAR BELIEF, Clara Shelby had not been born with tragedy. It had not run through her veins from the moment of birth nor had it been with her throughout gestation. In fact, it had been gifted to her in her youth and had been an unwanted yet faithful friend ever since. Every step of the way, it was there to loom over her and claim all things good for its own.
Quite like misery, tragedy loved company—just in its own wicked way. Tragedy was never felt alone, always projected onto the masses and destroying any bystanders so that the feeling of helplessness and devastation never truly resulted in utter loneliness. At least, that's what Clara had once tried to reassure herself, but now she wasn't quite certain if that was the truth.
Tragedy loved company but it desired solitude.
It desired certain individuals and preyed upon their woeful lives. It liked to overwhelm and burden those born to suffer because whilst Clara had not been born with tragedy, she had been born cursed. Cursed to live a life of suffering due to something as mediocre as a last name; one that was ever so bitter to the tongue. It was her ruination and would undoubtedly remain so within the constraints of time.
It would haunt her until her dying days, she was sure of it and she was sure that every day parts of her soul would wither more and more until her final departure.
The room she was brought to was cold.
It was the first thing Clara Shelby had noticed. A chill had spread throughout her body when she'd been ushered in, a nurse on either side to carry her weight as she lingered on the edge of consciousness. She noticed how the coldness had permeated the numbness of her mind and had spread across her soul. It was a sickening chill, one she could only really associate with the dark hospital she'd been taken to.
The young woman squeezed her eyes shut tight as the door squeaked open. She shouldn't have as the darkness of her eyelids brought forth the visions of the morning to cloud her surroundings.
One thing people often fail to tell you about guns is that bullets hitting flesh has a sound. Bullets had a sound when they hit their mark. It was a dull thump, a heavy one. A dark thump. When multiple bullets hit flesh, it sounded like a thunderstorm rolling over distant hills, not crashing or booming but thumping. Thump, thump, thump. Clara Shelby didn't think she'd ever be able to forget the sound. It was far too memorable.
It played over and over in her mind, an endless thrum of torturous thumps.
She heard them hit him. They'd hit him so hard with so much force. She watched their impact but the sound? The sound was what haunted her. She had heard his gunfire, she had heard the bullets hit him, she had heard his cry of sudden pain, she had heard him fall and hit the stone ground. Clara couldn't shake the stampede of noise that constantly trampled any other thought in her brain.
