Astor // Arthur Shelby x Reader - Peaky Blinders

Chapter 51

It feels like my head explodes with static electricity.

There's smoke everywhere. It's so thick I can't breathe, but that's okay, because all I have to do is what I'm told. And that's exactly what I do. I listen to the nurse, I follow her, I don't bat an eye at the other strangers that join us.

And then I see a man with a moustache. A man I might have dreamt about, long ago, perhaps catching a glimpse of his face when I was a child. It stirs something in me, even through the smoke. My heart does a flip. Even though he wears a look of anger, and I instantly recoil.

And then I see the man he's holding. Also vaguely familiar, but I cannot place him. I cannot place either of them.

Then I see the man's face has burned away.

"Please don't," I beg, scrambling, trying to get away from all these people. One of them holds me effortlessly, even when I try to kick and punch.

I don't want to hurt again. I don't want to be put to sleep again.

The man with the moustache steps forward, his arm outstretched, and I scream in fear. My arms stretch across the floor, trying to find something I can use to defend myself, anything.

I catch sight of a trolley loaded with cleaning supplies, and practically throw myself across the tile to get to it, I tear the mop free and brandish the handle. There's more and more heat thickening in the air, and a persistent irritating sensation in my throat.

But I'm armed now. I see the two men exchange a glance, along with the nurse that brought me here.

"Try to touch me, you'll regret it," I warn them.

They choose not to advance. Wise, I think. I eye the one with the moustache warily. I've already decided he's the most dangerous. He just murdered a man.

But then another man joins them. Again, vaguely familiar, with piercing eyes and black hair. I wield the mop more tightly as he takes in the scene, before speaking with the others. They argue about something, and then he orders them to leave. Nobody moves at first. Then they exit, dragging the burnt man's body with them. Good. Now I just need to take care of this new man, and I'll be left alone. I'll be safe.

He approaches me slowly, with his hands raised. "I'm not going to hurt you," he says.

I don't release my grip on the mop. I only hope he won't snatch it from me.

"I don't want to move you if you're feeling afraid," he says, crouching in front of me. "But there's a fire, just the other side of that wall down there. And we're either going to burn and die here, or the orderlies will think you set it yourself to escape. That what you want?"

My eyes widen at his words. If they think I tried to escape, they'll punish me again. Put me to sleep again. I shake my head vehemently, no.

He glances into my eyes, like he's speaking into my very soul. "We're on your side," he tells me. "We're trying to help you. Arthur had to kill that man to protect you."

"Bullshit."

Something like sadness flickers across his face at the sound of my voice. But there's a level of authority about him that I cannot ignore. And he has truly planted the seed of fear now — I need to get away from here. I'll take my chances with the mad men, rather than risk being put back to sleep for starting a fire.

And it is getting very hot, I realise, my skin already burning from the heat. It is getting rather hard to breathe. To see.

I have no choice but to take the stranger's outstretched hand, to put blind faith in him as he leads me down a corridor. I feel rather like a newborn foal, though I'm unsure why I made such a comparison, as I stumble around on legs that have received very little use for the better part of half a year.