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CLARA FELT HER SHOULDERS BEING VIGOROUSLY SHAKEN. She loudly groaned in protest at the aching pain that flared through her veins at the sharp movement. The girl pried an eye open, coming face to face with Finn who stood menacingly above her, his fingers prodding her cheek. The girl moaned and pushed at his legs trying to get him to leave before he lightly kicked her in the side.
"Piss off," The girl grumbled as she stretched her arms and legs as her body protested the movement of her limbs. She pushed herself to a sitting position, her knees close to her chest as Finn merely stood back and watched as she tucked a small, blue bottle into her pocket and out of sight.
"You smell," was the first thing he said, his nose wrinkled as he stood back even further.
"Yeah? Well, you try mucking out the Yard stables, sleeping in straw, arrested and then held in a damp cell," she spat angrily, more annoyed that she was aching and tired. "then you can comment on how bad I smell, you bald-headed, freakishly tall, twat."
Finn shrugged nonchalantly, "Okay...you should wash though because I could smell ya out in the hall. It's that bad." He added. "Besides, you missed breakfast and someone's downstairs waiting for ya."
"Who?"
"Nah, I'm not telling you now."
"Get out," Clara rolled her eyes as she pulled herself to her feet. Finn followed suit and rolled his eyes before he stalked out of the room. She pushed herself to her feet and cautiously stripped herself of the dirty clothes.
She looked towards the mirror on her dresser, her face screwed up as she examined her body. Big splotches of purple and blue littered her back, some of them stretching around her shoulders and neck. There were scabbed cuts across her face, one of them just underneath the pink scar that ran along her cheekbone. It was a gory sight, one which made the girl wince and want to curl up.
Clara sighed, holding a hand to her sore ribs as her other hand dipped a cloth into the washbowl on the dresser. She carefully washed the dirt from her skin, being careful around the tender bruising. Her eyebrows pinched together as she hissed through her teeth. With a grunt, she placed the cloth down, her hands on the dresser to steady herself as she took a few deep breaths in.
Clara shook her head lightly before she slipped her hand into her pocket to retrieve the blue bottle that weighed down the material ever so slightly. She tapped out a pinch of white powder onto the back of her hand and sniffed it up in a swift movement. It numbed the pain or at least fogged up her mind just enough so that she couldn't feel it.
The girl ran a trembling hand through her hair, her body shaking like a leaf. She shut her eyes, sinking into the familiarity of her room, longing to fall into the hazy cocaine world of dreams where everything seemed to flash in a cinematic blur of colour and shapes. No. She had to go downstairs. She cautiously pushed herself to her feet and grabbed a stack of clothes from her dresser.
Clara eventually descended the stairs, her body shrouded with old and loose hand me downs that lay comfortably against her bruises. She entered the kitchen before she was sent stumbling back. Ada had jumped at her, her arms engulfing the younger girl. Clara gritted her teeth together at the pain that came with the tight grasp. Her arms hung at her sides, her fists clenched and when the woman did retreat, Clara's pained expression dropped.
"Oh, look at you," Ada tutted, running her eyes over Clara's hunched body. "You'd swear you don't have any clothes of your own."
"They're not as comfortable," Clara grumbled as Ada continued to scan.
"No, of course not," Ada answered, yet Clara knew that the older girl didn't believe in her answer whatsoever. "Now, come here, let's get some food into you and then you're going to sit and tell me how you bloody ended up in a cell!"
And Clara had sat down. She'd learned that Ada had travelled down once she'd heard the news of their cousins and brothers being arrested. Clara in turn had recounted her long winded tale starting from the burning of the Marquis until yesterday morning. The younger girl had carefully left out any and all details containing snow. Her sister didn't need to know about that just yet. Ada usually tended to look down on those sorta of things.
Once Ada was content with the amount of tea and toast they'd both consumed, she'd promptly forced Clara into decent clothing, (which Clara heavily argued against) and had practically dragged her out of the house. They'd spent the day together with Karl perched precariously on Ada's hip, crying every once and a while to gain attention. The three went to the cinema, something Clara hadn't done since Ada revealed she was pregnant.
The younger girl had been more than overjoyed to then take Ada to visit the yard and show off Cannon who whinnied excitedly at the sight of his friend. Clara had shown Karl the various horses, putting her differences with the devil child aside.
And like any finale to any grand tour of Small Heath, the Shelby sisters had ended up in the Garrison.
Ada had ordered the drinks. One for each of them, although when Clara pushed for a second, Ada didn't argue. They drank together, they laughed together and that's exactly how they wound up in the same small bed in Polly's house that night as if they were the little kids back in number six again.
It was still so hard to believe that her older sister had grown up. Ada was a mother now, she lived her own life up in London. She had been married. She was no longer the wild Ada Clara had grown up admiring, but today offered a little glimpse into the Ada she'd once known. A carefree Ada who had the time to sit and do nothing or go to see pictures.
It was nice, Clara relished it.
"I think Pol's finally home," The younger girl whispered while Ada let out a small groan of malcontent. The two were both a bit tipsy and slightly exhausted from being out and about all day. "Heard the tub being filled up."
"Shush, let's go say hello," Ada huffed, pushing herself to her feet and tightly wrapping her dressing gown around her. Clara carefully followed, still wearing an old, loose cotton shirt with a pair of Finn's slacks which she had been forced to roll up at the bottoms so that they'd fit. She looked scruffy but she didn't care. She was comfortable.
Clara trailed after Ada as they entered Pol's parlour where a metal tub had been placed in front of the roaring fire to heat up, a table of shampoos and other soaps and scented lotions had been set up beside it. Pol was staring off into the distance, as Ada and Clara approached.
"Where have you been?" Ada began, taking a seat on the sofa near the tub. Clara opted to stand, her hands in her pockets as she watched Pol shift.
"Went to the Spotted Dog in Digbeth." Her aunt slurred which caused Clara to bite back a small smile. "for a glass or two of rum."
"Was it one glass or two?" Ada mused with a knowing smile.
"It was three." Pol hummed, a dopey grin gracing her face before it dropped. She looked at the two girl's, her eyes tracing Clara before returning to Ada. "Where's the baby?"
"Sleeping," Ada chuckled and glanced back at Clara. "Hm...more like five."
"It was more like six." Pol let out a short laugh as she faced them momentarily, her face dropping. Something was wrong. Clara felt the knot in her stomach grow. "Did you meet the maid?"
"Talked politics with her and she got bored and went to bed," Ada answered.
"I think she scared the poor thing, Pol," Clara commented which caused Polly to nod with a smile as Ada rolled her eyes.
"I phoned James." Ada continued, "He talked to the lawyer anyway. Said he'd take Arthur's case for free, so we don't need Tommy." Pol ignored the girl as she took a long drag of her cigarette. "Pol? We'll get Michael free as well, I promise."
"There's no need, they'll let him out in the morning." Their aunt replied, Clara's eyebrows furrowed, any amusement on her face dropping as her aunt spoke. "If the baby wants anything at night, ring the bell by the bed." The woman lowered her voice as if talking to herself. "She gets paid to work twenty-four hours, that girl. She's getting lazy. Well...take advantage if you're nice."
Ada stood up slowly and hesitantly gestured for Clara to follow. The girl shifted, her eyes still on their distant aunt.
"Goodnight, Pol," she softly spoke with a sheepish smile. Her aunt merely grimaced and nodded before Clara disappeared off into the bedroom where she found a pillow and blanket dumped onto the floor with Ada nice and snug in the bed.
"Arse," Clara muttered, as she sat down on the floor. Her mind was elsewhere. It was traipsing around the valley of her brain, trying to unravel Pol's odd mood. Perhaps the woman was just drunk? But Clara had seen her aunt drunk before and well...this was different. The girl remained quiet with her ears peeled. It had been another hour until Pol emerged from the metal tub, the excessive splashing of the water indicating so. The girl pulled the blanket to her chest as the knot in her stomach grew bigger and tighter.
And her mind wandered through the depths of her thoughts until reality was no longer a reality and wakefulness no longer shrouded her body.
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A SOFT HUMMING FILLED THE FRESH AIR, the flowers around them waved in a synchronised manner, their vibrant pinks and purples blending in a sea of serenity. The flowers felt like velvet and silk against her skin as she stretched her arms behind her head. Above her, a singular tree swayed in the breeze, leaves scattering and falling like snow. The humming was soft and light, a tune so familiar yet so unknown. It was comforting. The girl nestled back against the ground, her head shifting the material below it.
"You've been gone so long,"
Clara opened her eyes to meet Penny's, her lips moving into a smile. The blonde girl's humming had paused, her fingers brushing across Clara's cheek.
"I know, Angel," Clara sighed, turning onto her side to nestle closer to the girl. "I'm sorry."
"You should be, I was getting worried," Penny lightly chuckled.
"You always worry,"
"I know, I know," The blonde caressed the Shelby girl's cheekbone as Clara moved to hold her hand in place. "I wish we could stay here forever."
"We could," Clara hummed, closing her eyes. "No one could stop us here."
"But they already have..."
Clara opened her eyes and stifled a scream. Penny's eyes were gouged out, blood dripping from the black, empty, soulless craters. The Shelby girl shot up from the blonde's lap, falling back into the grass before she jumped to her feet in pain.
The once soft flowers were now coated in thorns that perilously pricked her skin as blood glazed over her body from the pin-prick like wounds. She looked in horror from her bleeding limbs to the eyeless blonde.
Penny was screaming. Her mouth was opened wide as blood curdling shrieks escaped her lips. Clara's face contorted in fear. Her heart raced as her face screwed up. Her hands itched to move over her ears to sheath them from the horrid screeches but they were stuck at her side. The ground shook and vibrated which sent the girl stumbling back. The earth from beneath the blonde dropped, as a hole opened up and swallowed Penny, her screams fading as she fell deeper.
"Penny!" Clara yelled, lunging forward to her knees to look down the hole. She felt the ground continue to shake beneath her, the flowers trembling and the tree on the verge of collapse. Clara dug her hands into the dirt for grip, her knuckles growing white. She shifted her balance before a foot was stamped down hard onto her hand.
She yelped in pain, her head tilting to look up at the person. Thomas Shelby stood above her, his eyes similar to Penny's. They were empty. Blood stained the underneath like crimson tears. He raised his gun, as the girl's eyes widened in fear.
"Please, please, please," Clara pleaded, tears dripping down her cheeks as her quiet voice resounded.
"One day you'll understand," Tommy monotonously replied, before his finger pulled the trigger.
Clara jolted up from her makeshift bed on the floor. The dimly lit room seemed distant and vague. She was drenched in sweat, stray tears still lingering on her cheeks. She looked at her clock in the corner of the room, its repetitive ticking allowing the girl to focus and soothe her heavy breathing. It was eight o'clock in the morning. She ran a hand through her dishevelled hair before she buried her face in her hands.
She needed air. She needed to think. She needed a lot of things honestly. Clara pushed her shaky limbs off the floor as she stood on the wooden flooring, her sock-clad feet slipping across the creaky ground. The girl grabbed her jacket which had been slung across the chair beside the vanity and exited the room.
She was the first one up, at least she thought she was. She shouldn't have been surprised. Ada was exhausted and something was wrong with Polly. Clara grabbed a pencil and a rogue page tucked behind what she assumed was Michael's accountancy work. She scribbled a quick note; 'gone home — clara'. She'd already caused enough worry over the past few weeks, she didn't need to stir up anymore. With one last scan of the silent house, Clara quietly left and began to walk.
The walk back to Small Heath was long, two hours long to be precise, but she didn't mind, it allowed her to think, to finally breathe. She thought of the chaos the last few weeks had brought her, of the pain that had ensued. She thought of her pending exam results, she thought of Will, she thought of Cannon, she thought of Finn, She thought of her Angel—the Angel which was no longer hers.
Clara wouldn't lie, each morning she'd wake up and forget that she and Penny weren't what they used to be. She'd wake from nightmares and crave the blonde's warmth, she'd wake from dreams and yearn to tell Penny all about them. She missed the girl. She wasn't just someone Clara loved, she was a friend and a damn good one. With each laborious thought that swirled in her mind, Penny was there as a shining light in the darkness. Clara had fucked it all up. It wasn't Penny's fault at all, the Shelby couldn't blame her. Clara wanted to hate the blonde. She wanted to despise her, wish death upon her...but she couldn't because, despite everything, she was still completely and utterly head over heels for her.
And Clara had let her go.
She'd been so stupid. She'd let the one thing she treasured go and with that loss came the loss of a part of her heart. The part that Penny would now carry for as long as Clara loved her.
Aunt Pol had once told her a story. A story that had been told hundreds of times for centuries before them. The story spoke of a human hybrid, 'a bloody freak of nature' as Pol had so frankly put it. The story told of a human with each body part doubled. These humans were famous for their wits and powerful abilities. These conjoined humans were fearless. They sought to overthrow the Divine beings that ruled over them. Once the ruler caught wind of the growing coup, he concluded that they must be punished.
And what more of a suitable punishment for these humans than to be separated. He cut each human into two. Dividing their love, their soul, their passion, their divine connection. The newly split halves were devastated and spent the rest of their days searching the globe for their missing piece, some were lucky, others weren't.
Pol had told this story to Clara when her brothers were off at war. She told the young girl copious stories, mainly to distract her from the flailing world around her. The young Shelby couldn't remember a lot of the stories her aunt told...but this one?
This one was different.
Perhaps it was because Clara noticed that the mission for genuine romance kept on continuing throughout the centuries. Or perhaps it was the fact she was intrigued at the theory that each human conceived had an unfilled opening in their soul that should be loaded up with adoration. But the story stuck with Clara because she kind of wanted to believe it.
She wanted to believe in something as juvenile as that myth.
Maybe it was because she was told, whilst few tracked down their genuine affection in heartfelt connections; others found it in significant kinships. Friendships, trust, the feeling of fulfilment. Something she could achieve. Was that not the material of soulmates? It all seemed so simple.
Pol had told her that genuine romance fills in as a light in an obsidian sky, a light like a lantern which guides you home and that naturally, people need to go out on a limb and clutch that emission of light to find their 'true home.'
And Clara had found her home.
But quite like the Marquis of Lorne, her home had gone up in flames. Penny had emerged from the flames like a Phoenix from the ashes and fled, but Clara..? She remained inside the burning building, each of her limbs being scorched by the heat and cementing her to the ruins of her love.
The girl wallowed in her self pity as she relied on her feet and muscle memory to carry her back to Small Heath. She must've been a pitiful sight. The girl felt foolish so it would only make sense that she looked it too. Clara rolled her shoulders back as she walked along the outskirts of Digbeth. Her muscles burned and sent flares of sharp pains up her legs and past her hip, but she kept walking.
She needed the air, the openness and quietness to think.
Clara took a few deep breaths in as she pushed away her growing aches and pains. Her fingers dug around in her pocket as she searched for the blue bottle of snow she'd been working her way through. She pulled it out and shook it carefully. It was empty. Her heart jumped in her chest while her nostrils flared. She tucked the bottle back into her pocket with a gulp before she lowered her head and continued.
She needed more.
It offered a relief, especially if she took some before sleeping. At least in her dreams, a snow-filled blizzard showed her a life she yearned for, one where she would lie in a sea of green in the bliss of Wonderland beside her very own Penny-like Alice. The dreams were sweet, enticing, unlike the nightmares that plagued her. The dreams were like a warped reality, one in which Clara wished to remain.
The dream provided the serenity her calamity life lacked.
The girl kept her head down as she dodged the people roaming Small Heath's streets. She needed energy, she needed cocaine, she needed peace and she needed a drink. Clara changed her direction as she made her way towards Garrison Lane. She sort of hoped that her brothers wouldn't be around. She needed a family free day. One which allowed her to breathe without suffocation.
Clara wearily pushed open the doors and entered. Her eyes scanned the room, immediately landing on Will, Michael and Isiah all sitting at the bar. Part of her withered, her brain craving time spent alone. She could just back out of the pub. They hadn't seen her. It would be so easy. Slowly, her feet moved backwards, carefully manoeuvring her way back towards the doors.
"Shelby, what on God's bloody green earth are you doing?"
Clara winced as she raised her gaze to meet the eyes of Michael, Will and Isiah. Will was looking at her in amusement, his mouth was still open from when he'd spoken. They looked like they expected an answer and Clara had forgotten the question.
So she didn't answer. She merely strode up to the bar and ordered a drink before sitting down beside Will. When it was placed down in front of her, she downed it before turning to the boys who were watching her carefully.
"What?" Clara sniffed, her jaw clenched as she scanned the faces of each boy.
"Nah, nothing," Will hurriedly exclaimed, "just...y'know? How's life?!"
"Oh, I'm so happy I could sing from the rooftops," she flatly responded.
"Yeah, that's good...yeah," Will stammered, drinking more of his drink as his eyebrows raised.
The girl turned to look at Michael as she eyed his battered face with a raised brow. "So...you got out, eh?" She asked.
"Yeah," his voice was cold and unmoving.
Interesting...
"I stayed with Pol last night, you should go home to her," Clara commented. "She was a right mess with you gone—"
"I don't want to go anywhere near that house," Michael interrupted. Isiah and Will both cautiously moved to have their own conversation as the cousins talked.
"And why not? I was there this morning, stayed over last night."
"Good for you,"
"Oh don't be so pissy, Michael," Clara scoffed, "Go home to your mum, she missed you. You're lucky to have her."
"You said you stayed at Pol's last night? Did she tell you what she did?" Michael's nostrils flared as his voice dropped. "Did she?!"
"I don't care about whatever she did or didn't do," Clara dismissed, "but a little word of advice, if it had anything to do with you being released early from prison, maybe show a bit of fucking gratitude, alrigh'?"
"Gratitude?" It was now Michael's turn to scoff. Clara was too tired and too done with socialising to tolerate her cousin at the moment.
"What? Is it a new concept for you?" Clara asked, "and yeah, you should be grateful, not all of us had someone to bail them out, Michael, not all of us had someone that cared when they were arrested." The girl took a breath in as she waved over the bartender for another drink.
"You were in jail because you corroborated that you burned down the Marquis. You bloody gave in! I had to hear it from Moss! It's comical really," Clara watched as Michael flexed his knuckles. "Based on the charges I was told you were given, I bet that the reason you're out is because Pol most likely got you bailed. I didn't have someone like that. I got out on my own. They didn't even know I was bloody arrested. You have Pol and she cares so much about you. So have a bit of appreciation."
"You don't get it—" Michael gritted.
"Don't I?" Clara laughed, "I've known Pol for a lot longer than you have, that's not your fault of course, but I know my aunt. And I know that something happened to her. Something bad. And now you're free so I'm going to go out on a limb and say she most likely did something bad to gain your release. What I don't understand is why you're here moping around. Go home and be with Pol. God knows she's been going mental trying to get you out."
Clara nodded to the bartender as another glass of whiskey was placed in front of her. "All I'm saying is that you need to get a hold of yourself." She turned back towards the counter and sipped her drink. "Shit happens, but welcome to the fucking family, Michael, it's not all money and bar fights."
Michael was silent as the girl continued to drink her drink. She wasn't going to say anymore. She was too tired. Her cousin needed to know that life wasn't sunshine and rainbows, she had to learn that early on and now it was time for her cousin to do the same.
The girl slammed her glass back onto the counter before standing to her feet. She'd had her drink and now she just needed to talk to Isiah before she could go down to the Yard. Clara cricked her neck before fixing her coat as she stood.
"Isiah, a word," she grumbled, gesturing her head to the side. The boy nodded and followed the girl outside as she sniffed. "Look I need some of the stuff you have."
"What are you bloody on about?" Isiah raised an eyebrow as he lit a cigarette.
"I need snow and I need it as soon as possible."
"Alrigh', I can get it to you tomorrow." He sniffed, looking around.
"Tonight and we have a deal."
Isiah cocked a brow and nodded with an amused chuckle.
"Fine, Tonight. You have a deal."
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IM BACKKKKKK! HELLO MY BEAUTIFUL READERS! MISS ME?
How are you on this fine Friday? I am sick atm so I'm not living, laughing or loving but that's alright!
I hope you were fine last Friday because I wasn't here to ask you, and if you weren't, I hope you're feeling a bit better this week!
Also I have a TikTok where I post trouble content, so you should check it out! It's @/wineaunt.wp !
I LOVE YOU ALL AND HERE'S TWO WEEKLY MEMES (because I missed last weeks):