Tommy Shelby finally recognises the extent of his mental damage. An Illness that is eating away at his conscious being, devouring every last morsel of sanity in his head.
An illness that finally forces him to seek counsel from a professional.
To fi...
اوووه! هذه الصورة لا تتبع إرشادات المحتوى الخاصة بنا. لمتابعة النشر، يرجى إزالتها أو تحميل صورة أخرى.
A hazy smog gathered on the surface of the canal's murky waters, the early morning air around crisp and cold despite the previous hopes of a spring snap. It always seemed this Birmingham home seemed to make anything bleak and bitter again for Thomas Shelby.
Back to the brick wall, Tommy smoked a cigarette silently, eyes surveying the stilled canal boats moored upon the grimy brown waters, the sounds of birds almost going amiss in the air that was filled with industrial clamour from somewhere close by - some metallic bashing, and calling shouts of a bloke commanding some apprentice.
Strange, despite all this, Tommy found some peace in solidarity. His mind was racing to collect up a million things, to find an answer he so desperately sought.
An answer to his guilt, more than anything.
"How did I know I would find you here?"
Tommy's head snapped to the direction of the soft voice, and the initial guard of alarm his body put up slackened at the sight of dear Ada Shelby.
"A good guess." Tommy replied dryly, eyes on the ground momentarily before casting out once again over the water, the image of his sister adorned in her large fur coat lingering on the periphery of his eyes.
"Or instinct." Ada replied with a slight smug scoff, stepping closer as her heels crunches on the blackened gravel. Leaning her back against some stacked crates, she sighed and settled her concerned eyes on the figure of Tommy.
"What's on your mind?" She started, knowing that wasn't going to be easy to get out of Tommy. "Aunt Pol says you called ..." even Ada wasn't sure how to address Verity? What exactly was she to Tommy? More than a whore or a toy, judging by the troubling that rippled behind his oceanic eyes the previous day at Arthur's accusations.
"... you called Miss Grant." Ada eventually settled, clearing her throat. "You don't think it's her?" She asked honestly, her rich brunette hair rolled into clustered curls.
His chest exhaled a laboured sigh, as Tommy took a moment to find a gap between the crazed rushing of ruminations in his mind to respond.
"I don't think she would." He responded, "in fact I know she wouldn't." His voice cracked as he responded. Yet instead of confidence in his gaze, there was instead an abundance of troubled sadness. Ada's confusion only heightened.
"That's good isn't it Tommy?" She asked, cocking her head when his expression didn't change. "So why do you still look lost?" She dared to ask, and the moment she did Tommy's eyes fell away, crumbling like a burnt bridge. He could not stomach himself to even acknowledge the way he was feeling, and how months of guilt now consumed him like a beast every time he thought of Verity. His brutish selfishness was his ultimate undoing, and it appeared it had reached its full bloom at an unnecessary time, considering all that had happened with the Eden.
Tommy swallowed hard, taking another drag on his cigarette which smoked away passively between his fingertips.
"I don't even understand it myself." He instead replied, how could he ever expect to tell Ada when he didn't even want to realise the full extent of what he had done with himself?
