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...
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Six long and lonesome months had past since the powerful, engaging essence of Verity had fled from London – fled from her career as a singer and flown the clutches of Thomas Shelby's hands like a bird let loose from its cage.
Although she had long been absent, the memories of her lingered as strong as ever – like the way the aroma of coffee fills a morning kitchen, or the rich smell of a bonfire smoking away on Guy Fawkes night. She was gone. But it was like a part of her still ghosted through the memories of those who had so cared for her.
It was on this particular grey September morning, as the Shelby's held an important 'family meeting' – that Tommy himself had found his brain withdrawn completely from the words exchanged across the long oak table situated in the dining room of Arrow House. His piercing blue eyes fixated on the reflections of his family talking away in the glossy table top, but his mind was elsewhere – memories of Verity, and the night of Charlie's birthday party.
How wonderful it had been for him to at last hold her on that night – to feel her warmth, kiss every inch of skin he possibly could. To have her passion, her smiles, her moans and gasps – all they had been prior were seemingly unattainable fancies in his daydreams.
Her revisited that memory rather a lot since she had left.
"Tommy?"
The Blinder lifted his eyes quickly to find all eyes on him, Aunt Pol's were filled with a considerable amount of concern whilst some, the likes of Michael and Gina seemed to portray nothing but irritability at his disassociation from the conversation.
"Sorry, what?" Tommy responded, clearing his throat as his voice felt a mere croak, a poor attempt to masquerade the hurt he was feeling as he tortured himself every single day about what he had done to Verity.
"We're talking about me takin' a step back, y'know, for Scarlett and the baby?" Arthur then chipped in, his six-months pregnant girlfriend sat to his right, her rather large bump dwarfing her already petite frame.
Taking in the words, Tommy nodded slowly – at least attempting to make himself look involved and interested in these discussions. But frankly he was tired, exhausted and as blue as he had ever been. He felt like telling all the faces around the table to do as they pleased, so that he might slink off to his private office, drown himself in another bottle of whisky and drift off to more pleasant places in his dreams.
"Seems reasonable enough." Tommy answered, making a small amount of effort not to sound bleak. It wasn't exactly a surprise to Tommy that his older brother was considering taking a backseat. When Arthur had decided it best not to rebuild the Eden Club, saying that he didn't think he'd have much time for it in the future – Tommy knew he was losing his fighter to the throes of family life, for a second time. Although it appeared the rugged Arthur Shelby wanted to make more of an effort to get it right this time, for his new little family.
