WICKED → thomas shelby

[04.]

[04.] || "𝒂 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒄𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒏𝒆𝒅 𝒖𝒑, 𝒆𝒉..."

𝙹une had spent much of her time within the betting shop with Polly. The woman didn't say much and it was becoming a trend that the Shelby's were hard to read. She was stern and intimidating just like her nephews but it seemed that's the way they liked it. They didn't fear much besides the loss of money they wanted to make.

It wasn't until the time had neared the evening that Polly had finally stood from her desk, June in the corner of a room sitting in a chair and watching as men moved in and out of the shop. She looked to the young girl, battered and mud still occupying places upon her skin that made Polly's stomach twist. They weren't one to hurt women and that was a trait Polly made sure to pass down to the boys although they were so hardheaded.

"Follow me." Polly spoke, watching as the girl slowly stood and the two made their way through the shop.

They had gone back to the home that was connected to the shop, shutting and locking the door behind them before she had turned to face the girl. The two had looked to one another in silence and it wasn't until tears had clouded the eyes of June that she had almost felt a small amount of sympathy.

"I'm sorry." June apologized before looking down to the ground, blinking away the sight of her tears that burned and begged to be fallen.

"I want you to go up those stairs and properly clean yourself." Polly had responded, ignoring the apology and nodding off towards them. "We may be monsters, but we also like those with us clean."

June had nodded slowly before turning on her heel and making her way through the home. She had entered a small foyer, on her right a living area where a fire's flame could be seen coming from a fireplace. The warmth could be felt even at just her distance and it almost felt like home.

But this wasn't home; this was her nightmare coming true.

She made her way up the stairs, the floor creaking beneath her footsteps. The hall was illuminated with candlelight, a bathroom found at the end of the hall where three other doors sat. She glanced at each one and wondered what happened behind him. They were men of the War; ones that hadn't come back right since. She listened to the stories from her own father and was sure this was the reason he struggled to ever be around much anymore.

When she had reached the bathroom, she had slowly shut the door behind her and sunk down it. There she had let the sobs rack through her body. She had no idea when she would be back home; if she would be back home. She had no idea if her father was still alive or if he had drank himself to death.

It felt as if she could've sat for hours, anxiety paralyzing her and making her unable to deal but instead she stood and made her way to the tub. She turned the knobs to the faucet to find the perfect temperature of water before her dress had been dropped to the floor and she sat within the warm water. Truthfully this was the most comfort she had felt in a long time. It had given her hope and washed away the weight of the past twenty-four hours.

She had heard a knock on the door and the sound of Polly's voice could be heard behind the wood that shielded her from the world beyond it.

"I have different clothing and shoes for you outside the door, dear."

She heard the sound of everything being set there before footsteps made their distance and after cleaning herself up some, she stood and found a towel sat on a shelf nearby. She dried off her body and wrapped the towel around her to hide anything underneath.

She reached around to grab the clothing and shoes, quick to shut the door to avoid any intruders ready to sneak a peek. She looked to the black dress, plain and down to her calves. She slipped it on, the torso cinched at the waist to give some curvature to her frame. She looked down to the black flats to match that looked brand new, slipping them onto her feet.

She gave herself one last once over in the mirror, her hair still damp in parts where it had hit the water. She raked through it with her fingers and gulped before taking the step out of the bathroom and back down the stairs.

She had heard the sound of inappropriate yet rowdy conversation between the three men that now joined the home. They had gotten back from a trip, each busy doing their own thing. One had come from the Garrison, another dealt with business in the shop, and another went to deal with business on the street in the worst way possible.

She wondered how they woke up each morning, feeling as normal as ever about their doings. They were wrong, the lot of them.

When taking the last step down from the staircase, eyes seemed to graze her over and a smirk had laid upon the face of one they called Arthur. He ran a hand through his greased hair and bit down on his lip.

"A looker when cleaned up, eh?" Arthur spoke as John looked to his eldest brother and smirked.

"Ay." John agreed.

Tommy didn't say a word, just stared between his brothers and her.

"Alright, pigs, go eat." Polly entered the room, wiping her hands on an apron that tied around her waist. Polly looked to the now cleaned June before her and gestured to the kitchen. "I have a plate made for you. Always have to set food aside before the heathens come in."

June followed Polly into the kitchen, the small table now crowded with the three men. The only thing that could be heard was the clinking of their silverware against the plates and sips taken from cups in front of them. They ate with haste as if they hadn't in days.

Two plates sat aside, holding shepherd's pie on it that still had steam rising from it. June's stomach began to twist and turn and although she knew manners well, she couldn't help but dig in and finish up the meal within what seemed seconds. She was just as bad as the men before her.

It wasn't until the men sat back at the table, picking at their teeth with toothpicks and sucking at them shamelessly. It wasn't until June spoke that they remembered she was there.

"Where are my horses?"