Warning: This chapter contains mentions of suicide, violence, poor mental health, teen pregnancy, stressful situations and death. If you are easily triggered by any of the above, please, feel free to skip this one out.
FINN DID NOT TELL THEM.
In fact, he did not even bother to face any of them that night, taking the long route back and fourth from the start to the very end of Small Heath.
He thought his sister selfish for not understanding the pressure that he now had to endure. He thought his so said lover self-absorbent for not telling him. And he thought himself a shit human being for complicating a woman's life that way.
Finn had always loved taking care of Karl, and although he would never admit it, that small boy bought him the joy that no one else could. Karl was the one Finn was thinking of in those moments. He kept asking himself whether this was the biggest difficulty he'll ever have to face, or if it was his chance of getting out.
With Dorothea it was clear, she wanted to get out of Birmingham as fast as she possibly could, but Finn.. Finn had never expressed that type of wish before. At least not while anybody was around to hear him. But he did want out. Out of the business he was yet to enter, out of town, hell, even out of the country.
As much as he tried to be more like his elder brothers, he never once succeeded. It upset him at first, when he wanted to show them that he, too, was worthy of the Shelby name. But later on, Finn realized that there was life after all the weapons and bullets. Another life. A life in which you didn't have to prove yourself in order to survive. You just have to breathe. Breathe and enjoy being alive.
Maybe all this madness had its reasons to explode just now. Maybe it was the universe's way of saying 'get the fuck out while you still can'. Maybe they could run away, him and Esther. Live a normal life out in the country and never be seen again.
But that plan had multiple issues.
It is important to know that Finn had never been the smartest in the family, and no one ever expected him to be.
Not until his sister started reading 500-page travel novels at barely six years old. Or when she began correcting Arthur's math at seven, which she found to be 'tragically-obviously-outstandingly-remarkably worse' than she had expected. By the age of ten she had outsmarted them all, well, almost all. There stood the second-born, who once had the same abilities that she currently possessed. Who had grown up with them, made something out of them. He knew her mind, and she did not like that. Not one bit. Although considering that he was the only one, Thea had learned to accept it.
With all said, Finn's intelligence was not reliable enough for him to outsmart one of the most powerful men in England, who just so happened to share the same last name as him. Thomas Michael Shelby.
Not only would they be found by him in less than two days, but he probably would not see sunlight ever again. Or at least not for a very, very long time.
The worst punishments were never the physical ones, they were the lasting ones. The long, boring, life-draining ones. Finn knew that, and that is explicitly why he brushed those thoughts out of his head.
He needed to somehow acknowledge everybody, but not by telling them face to face. That, because he liked his face, and didn't need anyone ruining it. Especially not Isaiah, who would, more than surely, kill him.
The Shelby kid, because yes, apparently he was still considered a kid, kept staring at the dirty water in the canal, letting his feet dangle off just above it. It was five in the morning, and the only thing he could think of was sleeping. You might guess that it was because of the lack of sleep he got that night, but no. It was not that kind of sleep he wished for. This one was meant to be eternal. He was not supposed to wake up from it. A one way ticket to empty-land.
But it did not matter how much he wanted to, because he did not budge. He did not dare budge. It was not fair. Not fair toward anyone. Not toward his family, not toward Esther, and not toward that fucking child she was carrying. He, a fourteen year old boy, scared to the bone, managed to figure that out. How? That could remain a mystery, considering his lack of understanding any of the school subjects.
If you hadn't read all this, then you could've judged him to be stupid, since the stupidest people are usually the bravest, and the next thing he did was go find Isaiah. However, it wasn't like that.
Finn preferred telling him first due to Isaiah's love for his sister. After he smashes the living life out of Finn, he would tell him exactly what he wants him to do. Disappear from her life, marry her, or just put a bullet between Finn's eyes. Something had to happen sometime soon.
Walking up to Jeremiah's doorstep was the hardest, yet easiest thing Finn'd ever done. How was he supposed to tell a father that he had gotten his fifteen year old daughter up the duff? Easiest because, well, he almost didn't feel anything. It was like walking on clouds, waiting to fall back into reality at any moment.
Finn didn't even have to knock, seeing the head of the Jesus' household existing it, his gaze fixed onto the pavement.
Jeremiah hurried past Finn, not paying attention to him even when the boy's shoulder touched his arm in movement.
Shouts could be heard from the inside, which he worked out to be his fault. The hard wooden door had been left open, and, taking that as his only chance of doing it, he entered the house, leaving the door as Jeremiah had left it.
"What the fuck was in your head, eh!?" Isaiah shouted, with a half-filled glass of rum in his right hand, making some fall to the yellowish floor tiles in the kitchen. Isaiah couldn't seem to have noticed Finn's presence, and even if he had, he seemed too busy screaming at his sister for answers to do anything about it.
"Stop fucking yelling at me Isaiah!" Esther screamed back, "I am well aware of what I've done! Don't need a blooming lecture!"
"Wouldn't have to give you any type of parental scolding if you'd been more fucking careful, would I?" He questioned, visibly fuming. "You." He turned around, pointing at Finn.
(who was shitting his goddamnit pants)
"Where's your sister?"
Now, Finn had expected many things to happen, including the ones ending with him dead in the cut, but not this. Had he interrupted Esther saying his name? Did Isaiah not ask that yet?
"Dunno, haven't seen her today. Probably sleeping, though." He replied, remembering that it was before six in the morning, meaning that they had stayed up all night also, launching whatever they could at each other.
"Yeah?" Isaiah asked, looking at Finn for confirmation, who was staring at Esther. "She sleeping?" He repeated with rage in his eyes, this time making Finn nod slightly. "How about I go join her, then?" He smashed the glass he was holding to the floor.
Grabbing Finn by his collar, Isaiah pushed him against the wall, Finn gripping his arms, in an attempt to get him off of him.
"Stop it!" Yelled Esther, who seemed more panicked than she had ever been in her life.
"How about I go shag your sister, like you did to mine!?" Isiah shouted, his voice rising with each word. "You wouldn't like that, would you?" He added, pushing Finn even further.
"I trusted you. I did, I fucking trusted you, Shelby." He hissed, "I trusted you, and you ruined her fucking life, and now I ask you.. I ask you, you think you deserve to live after it?"
Picking up a sharpened knife from the kitchen table, and placing it to her throat, Esther snapped once more, "If you do anything, Isaiah, then I swear to God, you'll have two funerals in the same bloody day!"
Both boys froze, Isaiah dropping Finn and eyeing his sister with a terrified look on his face, moving toward her like he did to a spooked horse, "Fuck you playin' at, Esther, drop the knife!"
But instead of doing so, she turned to Finn, with glossy eyes, "I want you to know, you didn't ruin my life, I did. You never forced me to do anything, it was my decision, and I fucked up." She cried, "I could have gotten rid of it, but I didn't. And looking back at it— I don't know why I haven't. But it is too late to do anything now."
"We can still work it out, it ain't the end of the world, we can—" Finn tried to reason, but it was useless, as she interrupted him, shaking her head, "No, no we cannot."
"Esther, put it down." Gulped Isaiah, watching her take some steps back.
"And you!" She called, "You have every right to be pissed at me. Hell, if I were in your place, I would be too. But I still need to thank you for taking care of me all these years, when dad couldn't, or when you simply felt like stepping in."
"Put it down" Isaiah silently said, his voice cracking, his hand still out in front of him.
Finn, on the other hand, didn't have any fucking clue what to say or do. He knew he had to take action, get her to somehow drop the sharp tool she held onto so desperately, so he just let the first words that came to mind flood the tensioned silence. "And what if I marry you!" Both siblings turned their heads to him with a questioning look on their faces, "I mean it, I'll do it today if you want. I'll find someone who is willing to do it!"
"You'd be fucking daft to think I'd let her live in the same house as you after all this." Isaiah shook his head, "You lot think that you can solve anything with money. Buy a house, buy a priest, bribe the coppers, but you can't buy silence from people. Not in Small Heath. When they find out, she'll be ruined!"
"She'll be ruined either way!" Finn yelled, "At least this way she'll be taken care of, and the baby as well. Tell me, Isaiah, what do you even want me to do! You are free to smash my fucking head in, but it won't change anything!"
"Yes, she will be ruined either way, and that is exactly why she'll leave town today at dusk. And you will forget about her, just as she will forget about you." Isaiah announced.
The atmosphere suddenly became tense, like the world had stopped for a few seconds, to the detriment of the laws of physics. Nothing dared move, not the door that had been left open, or the people outside.
"When did I agree to that?" Questioned Esther, staring at her brother in disbelief, "It's just better this way, Esther." He answered, "Now, please. Put that fucking thing away, yeah?"
"I don't want to leave." She said, moving backwards into the kitchen.
"We can talk about it after you put the knife back down." Isaiah insisted, walking towards her slowly. "I don't want to leave, Isaiah." Esther cried.
Isaiah's eyes remained fixed on his sister as he watched her step closer to the broken rum glass on the kitchen tiles.
Truth is, she really did not want to leave. Unlike most teenagers in Birmingham, she wanted to remain there, near her family. She didn't know what she wanted to become in life, or if she wanted to become anything at all? Esther wanted to have fun, and it was all she looked for. It didn't matter where it was, she would eventually find it and make the best out of whatever there was.
Dorothea should've seen it.
It was right in front of her eyes.
Esther starting to wear baggy dresses, not wanting to go to parties anymore, abandoning school. For all the talk about her unusual cleverness, she didn't suspect anything.
It was part of the reason why she was turning from side to side in her bed at dawn begging herself to fall asleep for at least half an hour.
Esther looked confused. Her eyes were scanning the floor and her tight grip had loosened. She seemed sad. She seemed to recalculate the whole situation.
Nobody knew what was going though her head. And nobody ever will, as she managed to finish the job right when Finn opened his mouth to talk.
If you asked him to repeat what he wanted to say, he wouldn't do it. Keeps saying that he doesn't remember, and even if that could be true, Thea still never believed him.
Finn only described what happened until there. He didn't describe Isaiah's screams to his sister, or to any other family member. He didn't describe the puddle of blood that had formed on Jeremiah's kitchen tiles, or the panic in his own eyes. Not because they weren't there, but because he couldn't. He wouldn't be able to put it in words, not even if he were some novel writer.
All he said happened after was that he ran to Mr. Wright's house, a known doctor, woke him and his wife up, and took him to Isaiah's, where he could do nothing more than declare Esther's death. When asked about the baby, Janson Wright told them that it was long gone.
In a stupid attempt to try and comfort both boys, he said that even if she hadn't done it, that child would've killed her from the inside. After that he said no more, took his bag, and left.
He explained all this while his family was gathered around him in the betting den, Dorothea looking paler than a ghost while Polly held her tight in her embrace, even if the girl seemed to be desperately trying to get out. John and Arthur didn't say a single thing. Tommy, on the other hand, had plenty of orders to give. He was a man of action, after all.
He made it his responsibility to go tell Jeremiah at church, sparing Isaiah of it. He offered to pay for the funeral, but Jeremiah insisted he doesn't, and then, when he was sure the man was right in the head, Tommy went back home.
He had seen this all before, with John and Martha. Finn was about John's age now, almost fifteen.
Tommy knew it was childish, but he was now blaming himself for letting John take care of Finn for so long. They had become identical, and not in the best possible ways.
And even worse, the fact that he let Ada stay with Thea during the war. Not that he had any other choice, but God forbid that happening again. Tommy secretly hoped that Dorothy would stick to her books and pointe shoes until she was at least 30. Even if he knew that wouldn't be possible. She had a wild spirit, that would need to break free at some point. That would need to go and explore the world, as ugly as it is, with the possibility of never coming back.
The next day, when Isaiah came to tell him he wouldn't be working for them anymore, Tommy said nothing, but gave him an envelope with the sigil of the 'Shelby Family Limited' on it, and motioned for him to go. The betting den was full of faces, luckily for Isaiah though, the men hadn't noticed he was there.
Dorothea saw him leave, peering from the corridor up the stairs, and so did he. For some yet unknown reason he turned his head towards her, as if he knew of her presence.
Neither of them moved, they just stared at each other. The hurt in both of their faces spoke more than words could. One of them had to let his sister become a faint memory, and the other had to let her best friend vanish with the dead, even if she was so very young.
The sixteen-year-old raised his left hand in which he lazily held the white envelope, but didn't wave it. It was just to acknowledge her and nothing more. Then fully turned to the door and left.
Thea knew what was in the envelope. No one had told her, but judging by the fact that it was Tommy who gave it to him, it was either money or some sort of a mission. And since Isaiah was officially no longer a peaky blinder, there was only one plausible answer.
She had to hand it to her brother, he was a smart man. He had gathered that Isaiah would not accept the money, as much as he realizes he might need it. Isaiah knew not to open envelopes given in confidence in a crowded space, with people around. Especially if they're given from the Shelbys. And Tommy knew that even if he opened it on the street, Isaiah wouldn't have the stomach to get back into that house again and give back the money.
IT WAS MONDAY, A WORKING DAY, BUT THOMAS WAS THE ONLY ONE RESPECTING THE SCHEDULE.
John was talking with Finn in his bedroom upstairs, Arthur was drinking his being out of existence on the living room sofa. Last but not least, Polly was fixing a pair of trousers opposite to Dorothy, who had stolen a glass of Vodka from under the staircase and was currently pretending it was water, in order to not get a beating from her aunt.
Although she seemed to have already noticed what the child in front of her was doing, Dorothea couldn't risk it.
Taking one last gulp from her glass, and struggling not to make a face, she mumbled, standing up, "I'm going to sleep."
"That if you can walk in a straight line" said Thomas, his voice being heard from his office. Dorothy looked at Polly for a reaction, but the only thing she did was shake her head. She was not sure how Tommy managed to hear her whisper, or how she was now in the middle of the living room, next to Arthur. She'd drank vodka before? And a whole lot more than just one glass?
The room was spinning. Why was it spinning? Thea looked at the paintings hanging from the walls, part of them looked smudged. The other looked alive and ready to attack.
Staring back at her aunt, she almost jumped. Her neck was bleeding. There wasn't a cut. But her neck was bleeding. She was now too scared to look at Arthur, knowing something would be wrong with him as well.
Dorothea pushed herself to the wall, letting her back slide down on it. Her hands involuntary traveled to her face, blocking her hallucinating eyes. She could hear her own breathing, in and out, in and out, in and— and it stopped.
She was still breathing, she could feel it, she knew she was. So why couldn't she hear it anymore? Thea could now only hear voices. Some were shouting at her with anger, others were calm and pleasant. She couldn't work out what they were saying, and nor did she want to. Her entire body was trembling, her eyes were strongly shut. Dorothea couldn't help but think where she was. It was not her house, it looked like it, it had the same people in it, but it was not her house. How could it be? She felt safe in her house, she didn't feel safe here.
Through the talkative ringing, the Shelby girl could hear a set of numbers.
They were being repeated to her.
They were talking to her.
She knew the voice.
She knew his voice.
She knew Tommy's voice.
Why was he counting?
Was he counting?
She opened her eyes.
She had mistaken.
It was not Tommy.
What was her father doing there?
When she felt him touching her knee she yelled, "No! No, get away!" Hugging both her knees to her chest and burring her face in them, "Get away from me!"
After one last hysterical, high-peached yell she heard, everything suddenly came back to normal. She could feel her families footsteps pacing around the room, making the wooden floor rumble. The people placing bets. She could see Tommy knelt down in front of her, his hands raised in the air, at a safe distance from her. She could see Arthur and Polly, looking terrified and unsure of what to do. Unable to comprehend what just happened, Thea rushed up the stairs and locked herself in her bedroom.
"What the hell.."