chapter nine / season one, episode three.

THOMAS SHELBY HAD CLEANED HIS YOUNGEST SISTER UP MORE TIMES THAN HE LIKED TO ADMIT. The whole of Small Heath knew the girl was up for getting messy, whether that meant in terms of literal dirty or with a bottle of whisky really just depended on the day.

Olivia Shelby would come to Thomas Shelby in her times of need. When her leg was all cut up from a day down at the Cut, or wherever her little gang liked to hang out, or if she'd had a little bit too much to drink and the stench of puke was a little too much for them both to handle. He still cleaned her up. She was his sister, and he couldn't bare to see her in such states.

The first time he'd ever cleaned her up was only a few days after she'd been born, when he'd foolishly been left only with the newborn baby and within a few seconds of everyone vacating the house on Watery Lane, Olivia had been sick all over herself. No-one had prepared him for that, so he had to wing the whole thing. Her clothes, that were still too big for a person that small, were tossed aside in the sink and Tommy was constantly gagging as he used a cloth to wipe away any of the remaining sick. It took him an hour, but then it was all gone. Neither of them were crying anymore, and there was silence in the house. Just Tommy and Olivia staring back at one another.

He'd had plenty of siblings before Olivia came on the scene, and yet Olivia was the only one he'd ever been trusted to care for. After that day, it happened frequently: Tommy being left with Olivia, Tommy being trusted to clean her up, or even Olivia coming to him, begging him to patch her up.

And although he wore an unimpressed look on his face whenever she came running into Watery Lane demanding his help, he loved it really. How could he not? It was grounding, really. It brought Tommy back to earth and away from whatever planet he lived in whenever he was trapped in his mind.

Just Tommy and Livvie. In the kitchen with rags, plasters and many more medical supplies. Livvie often telling a dramatic recall of what had happened to her. He liked that. It was something he enjoyed. (He didn't often enjoy much) And she would sport a childish smile, often kicking her legs back and forth when he wasn't looking, just enjoying every moment she spent with her older brother.

They hadn't done that in a while. Not just because Olivia hadn't been coming to him to clean up her cuts, scraps or puke, they just haven't spent time together as Tommy and Livvie. It was Thomas and Olivia, battling it out every day since the war had ended it seemed. Always clashing, always arguing. In times like these there was no time to enjoy each other. They were angry at each other all the time.

Tommy just wanted to keep her safe, out of the Inspector's grasp, out of trouble. Keep her clean for the future of the Shelbys, he wanted to tame her, calm her down a little. Reign her behavior in like a horse who got a little too excited.

Olivia didn't want that. She was fourteen, running rampant on the streets of Small Heath, causing chaos with every step she took. That was what being a teenager was all about. Stuffing your mouth with blue Bon Bons and screaming into your pillow when you think you might be interested in someone. But, Olivia wasn't destined to be a normal teenager, was she now? She was supposed to be the Shelby teenager, future of the business. All smart, and no fun, clean record, eloquent in her speech and mannerisms. Sure, she had the smarts knocked out, and so far she didn't have a criminal record but how can she not be fun? And she was born in Small Heath, for crying out loud! Eloquent isn't a word the inhabitants frequent.

During the war had been an eyeopener for Olivia, she realized Tommy's wants and her wants did not align and she didn't know if she could be herself, and be the future of this company. But, then he came back and started giving her a few roles in the betting den on the weekends. Kept her closer than he had before. And, suddenly, expectations for her were ramping up and she knew she'd never live up to them. She often thought Thomas Shelby had a vision for her, like a dream: completely, far, far away from reality and never to come true.

But, with the Inspector's arrival and his constant pressure for her to keep clean... the expectations were not just Thomas Shelby's dream, they were her reality. That she was to stay clean and be the future.

Whilst enjoying her teenage years, Olivia Shelby wasn't sure if she wanted that. She found herself enjoying teenage-hood, causing chaos, small things such as crushes (that Eleanora had informed her about!) Not guns, violence and murder with razor blades. (Or bottle necks in Olivia's case)

Maybe that's why they clashed heads more. They were differing from the only plan they'd ever known.

And clearly they had been when Olivia Shelby had stood outside Watery Lane, her beautiful frock stained in blood, a small bloodied handprint left on the front door, her blood dripping onto the pavement beneath her.

(There goes the clean future...)

"Livvie?" It fell from his lips quicker than he expected. His sister stood here, covered in blood that he so hoped wasn't her own. His sister, who he'd been cleaning up from the start of her life, now stood, silently, needing his help all over again. "C'mon, Livvie, take my hands."

Olivia just looked up at him. Her hands shaking in terror, and yet they still did not find comfort in the palm of her brother's.

Tommy watched her hands rise, come towards his and then slowly retreat. Every movement of hers was slow: her breathing, her hands falling down at her sides, the blood dripping down her wrists.

Tommy knew that if this doesn't hurry up... he didn't want to elaborate further on that actually.

"Polly!" He exclaimed. He wasn't mindful of Finn sleeping upstairs, or maybe even Arthur who had snook into his old room. He just needed someone to help his sister. Because he knew he wasn't the right person when he reached out again, trying to hold onto her arms and drag her into the house, just quick enough so no-one saw her.

So no-one could report her.

Olivia flinched as he neared her. A whimper leaving her lips as she shook her head.

"Livvie," he whispered, "We've got to get you inside, get you cleaned up, ey?"

Polly came to stand behind him, swatting him with a rag she had been using to wash up just moments before his shouting, "Will you keep your voice down, our Finn—"

"It don't matter right now," he stepped outside of the way, giving Polly full view to her niece.

Her little one. Her Liv. Her chaos.

Covered in blood.

"Olivia," She gasped, near enough pulling the girl into the house and staring at her in shock once the front door had closed.

Even Polly didn't quite know what to do. Her Liv was known for a few kickabouts, a bit of fun, a bit of drinking and a bit of stealing Bon Bons. But, this wasn't that. Polly knew that by the silence and the chattering from her teeth that it wasn't Olivia's usual shenanigans that got her here.

"Tommy go get—"

He was already out of the room, straight into the kitchen and searching the cabinets from high to low to find the necessities which he usually used to clean Olivia up with.

Aunt Pol had cupped Olivia's cheeks with her hands, inspecting the cuts across her cheeks at the same time, the violent purple bruises which had started to spawn at the base of her neck, "What's happened, Liv?"

At the soft spoken voice, and the soft, delicate hands cradling her face made tears spawn in her eyes, it made her knees buck and caused Polly to hold the teenage girl up. "C'mon, onto the sofa, Liv." She gently guided the girl into the living room, holding on tightly to Olivia's upper arm and then slowly sitting her down onto the sofa cushions. "There we go."

It was all supposed to calm her down, the soft words, the safe hands, the sofa she'd sat on for years. It was supposed to bring her familiarity. And it did nothing. Her legs felt like jelly, having a mind of their own as they violently shook, shaking the floorboards with her and causing a creak with every move. Her hands were lay flat on top of her knees, out of her peripheral view, so she didn't have to see the blood that stained her. And her mouth couldn't open because she didn't know what she'd say.

Would she accidentally beg for her life?

Would she scream? Would she be sick all over her Aunt's shoes?

Tommy came rushing back in, handing his aunt all she needed. All the things he'd used, frequently, to clean her small cuts, wipe away the blood, sweat and tears.

"Livvie?" He asked.

She didn't even acknowledge that he spoke. Olivia watched her aunt's every move. The clean rag she used to wipe around Olivia's wrists, the few pieces of green glass she pulled out of the cuts, and the gauze she cut to cover the horrific events that had taken place on Olivia's skin.

The horrific events that happened all because she was a Shelby. The name she loved for all its gains, the gains she'd been naïve enough to love, but now she knew of its setbacks. And they were pretty rough.

Tommy was naïve enough to reach his hands out to her again, and this time she pulled back as if she was repulsed by his touch. Her hands snapped back, causing Polly's touch to disappear and Tommy to frown.

"Please..." Olivia had never begged to Tommy before. She'd often pester him from things that she'd been disallowed, but she never begged.

And he swore that was a beg that fell from her lips.

"Don't hurt me."

"It's me, Livvie, it's Tommy, okay?" He spoke whilst Polly coaxed the girl into letting the woman continue her treatment, "I ain't gonna hurt you, ey? It's me."

Polly glanced at him. It wasn't often Thomas Shelby pleaded with his sisters. But he was pleading. Pleading to a girl that couldn't hear him, to a girl that viewed his face as another, one that would harm her. He needed to go. She thought to herself. Polly had already determined a man had done this damage, and being by Tommy only worsened Olivia's thinking.

Not only did she smell of rum, but the Aunt could also smell some form of beer. And alongside with what went down tonight, there was no way Olivia could be thinking straight.

The face of her attacker, although blurred, haunted her. His voice was constantly ringing in the back of her mind, sending chills down her spine, reminding her what she'd done. It lingered, the consequences of her actions. The ghost of the man she killed.

And she deserved it. She'd killed a man, and now she was paying the price.

"Thomas." Polly whispered, wetting her rag once again and wiping the dried blood that had dripped down onto Olivia's palms, "You need to go, leave me to it."

His face scrunched in disapproval, grabbing a second rag and prepared to clean his sister up like he had done for many years before, "I can't, it's Livvie, Pol. I can't leave her."

"Thomas." It sounded like a warning. But, since Olivia had walked through the door Thomas hadn't been thinking straight either. He could barely tell right from left, he was never going to tell between a warning and a plea. "Do not argue with me right now, it is in her best interests if you go..."

He sighed, throwing the rag back into the bowl, "Pol—"

"Olivia," One hand of Polly's reached up to the girl's cheek, touching it with tenderness and wiping the dried blood that had settled there, alongside the tears that had joined it, "Where did this happen? And what did you do?"

Olivia's eyes widened in fear, the shakes of her head soon following, "You can't see. Please. No. You can't see what I've done."

She knew if Tommy saw what she'd done, he'd never forgive her. Never let her be apart of the company. He'd condemn her for the rest of her life. She was a murderer, what kind of murderer deserved to be the future of Shelby Ltd?

And if Polly found out... Their Aunt would be mortified. And Finn, he'd never see his sister in the same light, he'd be scared of her. Her little brother would be scared of her. Ada would not doubt never speak to her again, ashamed of her little sister. And her older brothers... Arthur and John wouldn't know whether to coddle her like a baby, or toss her aside.

Olivia's mind got the better of her, it seemed.

Tommy crouched down beside her, his hands together as if he was praying. Praying for the truth from his sister so that he could cover this up, keep her safe. "Olivia, please. If you tell us what happened, or where whatever happened, I can fix it."

I can fix it.

Olivia had tried to fix it just like her brothers would've, she tried to throw money at the man, promise him a life far away from here and it hadn't been enough. And the man had ended up just like her brother's victims.

She was just like the rest of the Shelbys.

"I can't." She whispered, her nails digging into her palms, drawing more blood onto her dirtied hands. Even if they'd been wiped clean by Polly they were always going to be dirty now. "I had do something... I didn't want to."

But she had. She'd done it. And in the moment she hadn't cared, because it was the fight for her survival. It was him or her in that moment. And she'd always been taught by Arthur, sometimes by Tommy and always by John to fight for herself. Why, in that moment would she do any different? The Shelbys had told her to fight for herself. And that's what she'd done.

She fought till the death. And she'd survived. So, why did it feel like she was still in that alleyway, holding on tightly to the glass bottle neck and hearing the gurgling from the man she'd killed.

Why was she still there?

Tommy knew what she'd done. He'd known from the moment he'd opened the front door and she wouldn't speak, she wouldn't let him touch her. He knew.

Polly had known instantly, too. And in the moment she saw her niece, she knew her worst fear had come true: that Olivia Shelby was just like her brothers. Covered in blood, fighting to the death.

And it broke her heart.

"You have to believe me," her eyes, rapidly, shifted between her brother and her aunt, begging once again. Begging to be believed for the second time this evening. "I had to do it."

Olivia couldn't even bring herself to listen to the words she spoke. All of them sounded jumbled up in her mind, she hoped they made sense to Tommy and Polly because certainly nothing made sense to her.

"Because..." she swallowed, hard. As if she was swallowing her regret, her guilt and her shame all in one. "If it wasn't him it was going to be me." It had so nearly been her, all fight had left her body for a few minutes and the man was so close to winning. To beating her. Beating the Shelbys. But, she'd found her fight.

Like all Shelbys do.

Tommy's eyes clenched shut. And for a spilt second he was filled with sadness: the sadness that his sister had been condemned to this. His sister. The killer, now. He'd never wanted this for her. All he ever wanted was joy and prosperity and instead all she found was bloodshed and murder.

She shuddered at the memory of the alley she'd left that man behind in, and her eyes filled with tears at the thought of it being her body found there by a stranger in the morning. It could've been her.

It probably should've been her.

In her clouded mind the thought echoed off the walls, it should've been you. But it wasn't. You killed him to survive. Survival isn't living in a cell for the rest of your life, paying your debt to the man you killed, survival is just trying to live everyday with the fact you killed a man lingering behind you like a shadow in the sun, except all days lose their brightness and all joy is lost.

You're a murderer now, Olivia. Welcome to the grey side of life.

"He followed me down the alley." She told them. Her breathing becoming erratic as she spoke of place that nearly become her resting place.

Tommy couldn't believe she'd been so close to home and suffered so much. The alleyway was less than four minutes away. So close, and yet Olivia had been so far. So far for the Shelbys to protect, but so easy for the man to hurt.

"And he was angry." She wiped her wet eyes with the backs of her dirty hands, not caring in that moment that they stung, she deserved it, "He was so angry at us."

Us had a double meaning in the black country. It could be used in some sentence to replace 'I' or 'Me' because that's just how the people spoke round here. But, then it could be used to describe a group of people.

And Tommy couldn't quite decide whether Olivia had been at the center of this attack, or whether she'd suffered at the hands of their last name. It would be her first time, and it wouldn't be her last.

"He were going to kill me..." Olivia muttered, "Because we ruined his life."

Tommy sensed sympathy. And he knew sympathy would eventually kill her.

"We do what we have to, Olivia." He said.

"Thomas." Polly warned, "You go and you get Arthur and John, and you sort this out, you hear me? You don't bring anyone else, this is a family matter and only family will fix it."

"Pol—"

"Go." She told him, sternly. She would not have him telling Olivia that this was all fine and dandy just because she was a Shelby.

He slammed the door shut.

And Olivia found herself flinching at the sound. He was angry at you, Olivia. Angry you've turned out this way. Just like him. Was it her subconscious taunting her, or was she well and truly haunted?

Whoever it was made her squeeze her eyes shut and fight back the tears that threatened to spill. She deserved it all. She deserved to sit in this dirtied pretty frock as a reminder that Shelbys weren't pure white, they were dirty, they got the best out of life in the worst possible way and that they weren't better than everyone else. That they could be brought down to earth through unbelievable damage. Olivia deserved to sit there biting back tears because someone else would be crying over the loss of a friend, a relative. And she deserved to sit there in his blood, as a reminder that she'll never be clean again.

"I'm so sorry." She spoke quietly, her voice hoarse and so broken. So unlike Olivia. So much so that Polly didn't know who she was talking to, because the aunt knew this would haunt her girl for many moons.

Polly knew this was the step she'd been afraid of for years, the step that Olivia would fall into like a trap and never return from.

"I had to do it. You have to understand that I had to do it."

Polly nodded, Olivia was looking at her but her Aunt was still unsure who she was really communicating with.

"He was going to go after Finn." She confessed, and now Polly knew who her words were directed at, "But, he found me first. I think he was meant..."

"He was meant to find me."

Polly's teeth sank into her bottom lip. She never thought she'd hear Olivia speak like this. She never wanted to hear Olivia speak like this.

"He was meant..." Olivia's bottom lip trembled, and her hands wrapped around her throat, wincing when her hands came into contact with her bruises. Bruises which he'd made. On her neck. Which he'd dirtied. Forever. "He was meant to choke me, Pol."

"He was meant to put his hands on me..." She cried, her hands now moved to pull at the sleeves of her dress, disgust mixing with sadness on her face. The dress he'd touched. The dress he'd tarnished. She wanted it off. She wanted his touch gone. "Polly, please, it's everywhere. He's everywhere. Please."

He'd mainly only touched her face, her neck, her arms, any other injury to her legs had been a pure accident. But, Olivia felt like she was covered in his touch. Like when you felt one insect crawl on you and then suddenly there was hundreds more crawling over your skin, infesting you with a touch you never wanted.

The man had choked her, he'd slapped her and he'd held tightly onto her wrists and yet he was crawling all over her.

"Get it off." She cried, ripping the material of the dress she never wanted to see, violent sobs ripping through her body, "Please. I want it to stop. I want his hands to stop...!"

Her throat felt tight, as if his hands were still applying pressure to the base of her neck. And the lack of oxygen caused her to see stars, and yet again it felt like she was in that alleyway, held by the man who wanted her dead. Who wanted to send a message.

Wasn't this enough? A poor, traumatized girl who hadn't left the alleyway? Wasn't that a message? That the Shelbys needed to be more careful.

Olivia grabbed onto her aunt's arms, pleading with the woman through her blurred vision, "Polly! Please."

Polly nodded her head, discarding the rag she'd been using to clean the girl's legs and leading her towards the stairs. "We're gonna get rid of that dress, okay? And we're gonna give you a wash and..."

And it'll be like never ever happened. Polly so desperately wanted to tell her niece that once the dress had been discarded it would be like nothing ever happened, that the slate would've wiped clean and nothing happened tonight. But, it had. No amount of cleaning, or even getting rid of the dress could change what happened tonight.

Nothing could change that. And Polly wished it wasn't this way. She wished she could take this suffering from her niece. And a wish of that size was more like asking for a miracle.

Olivia didn't even question her Aunt's unfinished sentence. She just wanted this dress off. She wanted his touch forgotten.

She was never going to forget, was she?

A door creaked open when they made it up to the landing, Olivia too busy itching at her skin to realize Finn was poking his head out of his bedroom door to see what all the chaos was in the house. There was a usual amount of chaos in the Shelby house at night, but tonight felt wrong to him, like there was more than normal.

And he'd been right. The second he saw his sister stood, itching at her own skin, trying to crawl out of it herself, her pretty dress covered in blood made his stomach sink. And knew he'd been right when there was more chaos than expected.

Polly gasped, pushing Olivia behind her as if to hide a horror (or a monster) from a young boy afraid of the dark, "Go back to bed, Finn. This doesn't concern you."

The boy frowned, wiping the sleep out of his eyes with the back of his hands, "It's Livvie, Livvie concerns me."

In that moment, Polly wished that Olivia still hated Finn's guts, just for a few extra years, just so that he didn't have to complicate the already complicated matters.

Finn liked to ask questions. And Polly, this time, couldn't even answer them for him.

"Bed, Finn."

"Please, if Livvie's in trouble—"

Their Aunt was going to cave, she had no choice! It was her and Finn in this house, considering the three Shelby brothers were cleaning up the alley and Ada was G-d knows where. "Get Liv some sheets, pajamas and steal a pair of Tommy's socks for her. And by no means do you come into the bathroom, you put it all in her room and bring it to me when I ask for it. You understand?"

He nodded instantly, as if all sleep had deteriorated from his small frame and he was up for anything. Really the boy was just willing to wake up and do anything to make sure his sister was okay.

Polly led Olivia into the bathroom, and the teen didn't dare speak as the metal tub was filled with fresh water at the Aunt's hands. Fresh water. Clean. You can be clean, Livvie.

It'll be like nothing ever happened. She told herself. Feeding herself the lie in an attempt to make herself better, and it worked. It did. Until she was stripped down to her undergarments and her hands hovered over the water.

Polly had cleaned them downstairs with her rag, that had soon turned a dark crimson with dirt littered amongst the dirty water, but Olivia's hands still felt like they were covered in blood. They weren't clean.

They were supposed to be.

Her Aunt's hand rested on her lower back, helping the girl into the bath. She wasn't going to question going in the tub with her undergarments on. Polly wasn't going to question anything. She just wanted to keep Olivia safe.

Something she'd failed to do beforehand.

Polly found another clean rag and held Olivia's hand delicately, as if they were fine porcelain and bound to break with any movement too rough. But, hadn't Polly realized? The porcelain had already broken, broken down to rough edges and broken pieces, bound to hurt anyone who came into contact with the now broken piece.

The piece who didn't deserve such care.

"Scrub harder." It was meant to sound like a demand that she spoke. But, instead it was meek. Weak even when demanding punishment, Shelby.

Polly ignored her.

"Please." It felt like the only word she'd been capable of saying all night. Please. A beg. A worthless beg. She was a beggar now. Demanding mercy in the form of punishment.

"Polly, please!" She all but shouted. Her frustration mounting that she was not scrubbing her bloodied hands until her victim's blood became mixed with her own. Her frustration reaching its peak considering she was wiping the victim's blood off her hands that was already gone, that it was her who survived and was taunted by the crimson red. When she knows for a fact if it had been her who died tonight, the man would not have thought twice about her death, or her blood.

She wouldn't be his first bled shed.

"You need to scrub harder. It needs to come off. I need it gone, Polly."

Polly didn't know how she was holding it together. Ignoring her niece's begs for mercy, at the hands of pain. Pain on her already cleansed hands.

Polly held the teen's hands in her own, warming them from the deathly cold they'd been all night since she came home, "It's gone, Olivia. You see?" She held Olivia's hands in the moonlight, "It's gone, yeah? You see that, all clean?"

All clean of the man's blood. All clean of sin.

Yet, even in the moonlight, Olivia made one hand scratch the skin of another. "It's still there." She cried. "What I did is still there."

"It's not, Olivia," Her Aunt whispered, and if Olivia was in her right state of mind she would've guessed that her pleas had reduced her Aunt Pol to tears, "I promise you, the blood is gone. Look at me, Olivia." The girl's head turned slowly, with her bottom lip trembling and her scratching coming to a halt, "It's gone. He's gone."

"I did that." Olivia weeped, her hands now grabbing onto her Aunt's forearms, scaring Polly slightly with the breaths she seemed to skip when she spoke about what she'd done. "I put that bottle in his neck, Pol, I did that. That's why he's gone. Because of me."

Polly pulled her hands out of Olivia's grasp, and tenderly pushed some of the girl's hair behind her ear, "It was him or you, Olivia. And I'd much rather it be the man who was a coward and attack a teenage girl in an alleyway, than it be you."

It was him or you. People kept saying it to her, as if it was supposed to make this better. And maybe in a couple of days it would. That her fight was a fight of survival and she had no choice.

But, in this moment, Olivia wished she had a choice. Even if the man was vile, and tried to kill her, she wished she hadn't saw red and only injured the man. Because, that would be a better feeling than knowing you were a killer.

Olivia shed tears as she let her Aunt clean her up, there was no kicking of her feet back and forth, or any enjoyment in the room. Nothing like what used to happen when she got cleaned up. It was totally silent. Not joking between her and Tommy.

Olivia had sent him away.

It was her and Polly, in complete silence as water dripped down her back and the once clean water became dirtied, her reflection no longer staring back at her in the dirt.

Olivia felt grateful for that. No reflection in the water meant she didn't see that blurred man's face staring back at her, mocking her for living and couldn't interrupt the one thought in her mind.

It was him or you.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:
me when in one chapter i have symbolism of tommy not being there to clean livvie up, ruined olivia's mental state, ruined the golden trio of friendship in this book and have written things that connect in my mind for future chapters: 😀

um, i have no words to say because i love my baby livvie and wish her the best for the future! (i refuse to give that her) because the future is looking rough girl!

but, i hope everyone who celebrated christmas had an incredible day and feel free to give me a present haul in the comments because i would die for what i got for christmas videos. but to those who don't celebrate i hope you had a good day nonetheless. and a happy (early) new year, seeing out this year is an awaited thing for me and my family after a tough year of loss and i hope a better year for all my family, for you and for others in 2024.

happy new year 🩷 (i even updated all my books as your new years present, please do give them a chance 🥳)