𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒 ♛ thomas shelby

xᴠ | sɪɴs ᴏғ ᴀ ʙʀᴏᴛʜᴇʀ

     "Ah, fuck." Spilled unintentionally from her lips.

     One of the fedora clad men cut her path off, inching dangerously towards her. "Buona sera, Signorina Cardinale."

     Her mother language surprised her, coming from the threatening strangers. Caterina stood her ground firmly, determined not to show an inkling of weakness in front of them.

     He pointed his beady eyes towards her, running them up and down her hunched figure.  "We come in the name of Darby Sabini of London. You hear of our boss, yes?"

     Her brow furrowed in confusion. Whatever were they talking about? "Che cosa volete? Non abbiamo cose con Sabini."

     A rumble of what was supposed to be chuckles passed through the group, yet Caterina found herself unable to breathe.

     "No? You should probably ask your brother about that," rasped the tallest one in his broken English. His hand was quicker than her brain processing the danger, and by then the two larger strangers held her arms behind her.

     Searing pain shot through her back and she screamed, shoulders twisting in a most unnatural way.

     "Get off. Leave me alone!"

     A punch landed in her stomach, galaxies dancing on her eyelids as she screwed them tightly shut. Another one at the bottom of her ribs made her bite her tongue, the taste of metal filing her mouth. Her peripheral vision darkened, and she wondered if it had gotten darker outside, somehow.

     "Darby Sabini sends his regards."

     She wasn't strong in a physical sense, besides knowing how to hit the spot where it hurt the most, the basics she was allowed to learn from the men that guarded her family.

     Weakness surged through her limbs once they let her fall limply to the ground, with as much of grace as they would have given a sack of flour. Hours, it felt like hours before they stopped pulling and tugging, punching, pinching and kicking.

     Oh brother, what have you done? She thought but instead, a pained scream ripped out of her throat, bordering on animalistic cry for help.

     For most of her life she had been surrounded by men that watched her back, lulled into a false sense of safety. Now, alone and helpless underneath the moonlight she repented not trying harder, not being stronger.

     The mens thundering footsteps quieted down until they were heard no more. Through her swollen eyelids she noticed a trickle of blood - her blood - mixing with the rainy puddle between the cracks on the pavement.

     A pang of pain shot through her head, making her twitch. Cold, she was cold. One of her hands stretched outwards, not reaching for anything, really, but instead fingernails digging into the mud.

     Of what use was a silver tongue in a dark alley? For the very first time in her life, Caterina Clarke was truly afraid of meeting her end.

*:･ﾟ♛･ﾟ:*

     Faces blurred until they disappeared completely. Her sleep was distressing; coming to and leaving consciousness in waves, pictures rushing in like a waterfall.

     She woke twice; the first time when Maria tugged on the red and raw skin on her arm from where the doctor pulled the shrapnel out, sewing it tightly shut. The second time she rasped for water to moisten her chapped lips before she fell back into the cushions, drained by the minimal effort.