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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A/N: Long time no update! Sorry for the delay on this.
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Even the vivid throes, warm long days and pleasant summer evenings could now blow away the thickened cobwebs of hurt and distress from the inner walls of Arrow House. The place that had been feeling more like home than ever when Verity was around, now felt like a shell – a building merely to keep the elements from your skin. It wasn't a home, a place of sanctuary or comfort. It was just a place to stay.
A place to hide.
No one quite felt the brunt of Verity leaving like little Charlie did. Although his father was in a quiet state of devastation, it was only him he would bare the scars from his own acts of selfish wants. Whereas Charlie had both the hurt of Verity leaving, as well as the pain of seeing his father sink further away than ever before. That child's every happiness melted away with the summer heat, not even his rides out with the yard boys or his music lessons could bring him a smile anymore.
It seemed the very last fibre of glue holding this very small and very discombobulated family unit together, was Francis. She had seen and heard a lot, and knew the Shelby's perhaps more than they knew themselves. She knew it wasn't exactly her place to start piping up – but she felt it was her place.
Nothing troubled her more than hearing Charlie say he just wanted to 'be with the angels and mummy' one night as she tucked him into bed.
The long office Tommy inhabited never felt more like a coffin, as Francis stepped into it's impressive bookshelf strewn walls, seeing the broken Blinder sat at his desk – the back of the chair facing her. It seemed Tommy spent most of his time now either looking out of those long rectangular windows, or with his head on his desk, several finished or half-finished whisky bottles not too far away.
As the maid stepped in, she announced herself with a small clearing of her throat. In her best interests, she decided to first ease in with a bit of news. Charlie's music teacher had called in sick, and wouldn't be able to attend tomorrow morning's lesson. The information was easy deliver – a rehearsed line and a solid and rather emotionless fact that seemed a lot easier to Francis than what she was about to do. She had heard Tommy when he was angry, the way his voice would bellow loudly about the house as turbulent as thunder. It would often strike fear into her heart, and she often wondered how it felt to be on the receiving end of one of his spats. It couldn't of been nice.
Yet in this situation – having watched both Tommy and his young son turn into the saddest, most lack lustre family she had ever witnessed, well. She felt it was her duty to at least say something.
"Mr Shelby," she started, hands linked neatly across her front. "If I may be so bold as to say, I have noticed a lot of things have changed... since Miss Grant left." She cleared her throat once again, looking up and staring at the same leather back of the chair.
