It's the roaring twenties in Birmingham, the Peaky Blinders exist alongside God but they were much, much closer at hand than Him. Mercedes de Silva, thornless withered rose, petals filled with sorrow. Thomas Shelby, ruthlessly ambitious, conflicted...
"Where to, miss?" a young coachman asked, not bothering to look at his passenger, "To hacienda de Silva," she replied, gaze falling on the busy port of Santa Anastasia. Mercy removed the coat she was wearing for the sun was scorching hot, despite the swaying of palm trees lined outside, the air was dry.
The young man furrowed his forehead in confusion, "What do you mean, miss? The hacienda is long gone..."
Her eyes widened in circles, muscles around it began to twitch. Blood drained from her skin and a low scoff escaped her mouth, "H—huh? Hey, that's not funny!" she licked her lower lip, scratching the back of her nape. The man crinkled his nose and sighed, "I am not joking, miss! The hacienda was burnt to ashes two years ago!" he exclaimed, wiping his sweat that trickled down his brows using a towel.
Mercy blinked rapidly, trying to digest the absurdity she just heard, "That's not true..." she muttered, fidgeting in her seat. "N—no, Soledad, my sister..." Mercy ran her shaky fingers through her hair as her mind spiraled out of control. Mercy's breathing became more rapid and deeper as if she were gasping for air.
"Take me to my house!" her voice cracked as the nauseating wave of terror crashed over her, the young man slowly turned his face towards her, a vile smile painted on his face. But what Mercy noticed was the hole in the middle of his forward. Her body froze and looked at him with numbed horror, "I killed you..." she grumbled and swallowed the dry lump in her throat.
"And I killed your family," Jaime giggled, "How I love your little sister's scream as she burned like a grilled meat," he added, biting his lower lip and smiled at Mercy, who's now stuck like a statue. She opened her mouth, followed by a blood-curdling scream that made Jaime laugh.
"Miss! Miss! Miss! Please wake up, are you okay?" a hard shake on her shoulder snapped her eyes open, sweat rolling down her face and lips parted as if she was panting, "W—what...what's happening?" she asked, still disoriented from the sleep she had as she traveled from the port to the outskirt of their town. He noticed that the woman inside was squirming in her sleep and almost fell off of the horse when she screamed.
"We are here, miss," the coachman replied and scratched his eyebrows, face flushed as he stared at the beautiful woman in front of him, "Are you okay?" he asked once more before saddling back to his horse. Mercy remained seated inside the caritela, trying to catch her breath. This was the fourth time that Jaime haunted her in her sleep, and she didn't like any bits of it. Mercy sighed deeply and squeezed her eyes shut, "Fuck," she muttered under her breath.
"What is your business here?" a guardia asked the coachman, making Mercy peep her head out. She stared at the guard before her gaze fell down at the rusted gates of their hacienda that was covered with green vines. Mercy was completely oblivious to the old man's squinted eyes as he took a quick glance at her. He thought she looked strangely familiar.
"Miss? What do we tell him?" the coachman questioned but she just brushed him aside. From afar, she could see the wilted leaves of their trees, which used to be home to birds. The field of grass which used to be compared to the shade of an emerald was now dead. How could Alejandra let this majestic estate turn into some kind of ruins?
"What is your business here?" the old guard repeated in a harsher tone as if he was losing his patience, "Miss?" the coachman scratched his forehead and looked at Mercy, waiting for her answer.
"Tell him, it is Mercedes de Silva," she replied calmly, making the coachman place his hand over his mouth, his eyes getting wider in surprise. He quickly turned his face to the guard and shouted in a shaky voice, "It's M—Mercedes de Silva!"
The guard turned pale as snow as he heard the name of their lady, it had been five years since she left the country but they would always be loyal to the rightful heir of the land, "W—welcome home, senorita Mercedes!" he exclaimed and quickly opened the gates for her, she cringed at the creaking sounds coming from it.
"This is not my home," she hissed to the old man as they passed by him, he bit his lower lip and bowed his head lightly. He can understand where her anger is coming from, after all, horrible things had happened inside this place and that affected her gravely.
When she stepped out of the caritela, she glanced at the entirety of the house, and just like that, the memories of the past flashed in front of her like lightning. She remembered she'd often sneak up on Iago when he smoked in the veranda, and Marisol would scold her for being unladylike. As she realized she was smiling at the thought of them, she clenched her fists and held her head high, sauntering on the marbled stairs of the front steps.
No servants opened the door for her, Alejandra must have dismissed most of their workers as she noticed the emptiness of the hacienda. Her knees grew weak as she glanced around the area, most of the furniture were draped over with dust covers and the silence was unsettling. Cobwebs and clouds of dust clung to their chandeliers and to every nook and cranny of the entrance hall. She took notice of the missing picture frame in the middle of the room, it was their family portrait—Alejandra must've thrown it after her husband's death.
"Soledad?" she wondered aloud, her voice echoing all over the room. Her hands gripped on the railings of the stairs and ascended to the second floor of the house. Mercy kept glancing around as if she was familiarizing herself with the place she tried to forget about, "Mama?" Mercy called out once more.
She walked past the prayer room and came to a halt in front of the door, her eyes shut and fists clenched, inhaling sharply through her nostrils. The wooden door was left ajar, she pushed it gently with trembling hands, and the ghost of the past danced right before her eyes. It only took one glance to bring back the harrowing memories she had worked so hard to forget. Her heart hammered against her chest, making her feel worse. The room was gloomy and covered in dust as if no one had used it for a long period of time, and her feet felt like they were locked to the floor as she froze in place.
She wanted to run.
Away from this place.
But this would be the first key in moving forward, and it is accepting the hard truth. With quivering knees, she had to drag her body to let herself in inside the room. Mercy bit her lower lip, hard enough to notice the familiar taste of copper. Her eyes flew to the ceiling fan and that's when her legs finally gave up, hot tears rolled down her cheeks, and she squeezed her eyelids shut in the hope her tears would stop flowing. Mercy buried her face in her palms as she felt a great wrench of sadness and melancholy swept over her completely. Mercy's chest heaved with sorrow that came in ripples, and after each sob, she let out a low whimper.
Until a pair of small arms wrapped around her body from behind, "Let it all out, ate Mercedes..." the little lady whispered, leaning her face on Mercy's back.
· • -- ٠ ✤ ٠ -- • · 𝚊𝚝𝚎 : 𝚘𝚕𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎
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