tw!! rape, sexual assault

CHAPTER TEN — the past

' Get out, Thomas! '

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Charlotte has had so many bad experiences with men, like most women. Being a barmaid in Birmingham does that to you, and it's fair to say she's kind of traumatised from it. There's too many moments to count when she's being grabbed in appropriately or nearly forced to do something she never agreed to. But, it's a lot easier to push a man away when he's just a filthy scum in a pub. It's a completely different ball game when it's Billy Kimber.

Staring out of the window of Billy Kimber's billiard room window, Charlotte begins to rethink her entire life. Listening to him ramble on during the car journey to his home was enough to make her what to jump out of the moving vehicle, and now as he began to play the most drowning music, she turns around with a small convincing smile.

"You showed me up back there at the races," He makes his way over to her, grabbing her hand and pulling her tight to his chest, "Why don't you teach me how to dance properly?"

"This music is too slow," She attempts to pull her body slightly further away from his but he keeps his grip tight, "Don't you want somet a bit quicker?"

"Then we would have to be far away," He tightens the hold on her waist, "I want to dance like this." He places his forehead against the side of her head, and her back straightens, "Come on, Charlotte. You weren't so stiff at the races, were you?"

Breathing in a deep breath, she takes a step away and his hands drop to his sides. His expression doesn't change much, clearly not bothered that she moved away.

"You ever been in a house this big?" He tilts his head, picking up one of her hands and holding it, "Hm?"

She stares at him, the anger practically radiated off her body, but he's too stupid to recognise the emotion.

"Look at you," He hums quietly, moving his hand up to hold the back of her neck, "You look like a bloody film star." Quickly, he snaps forward, roughly sucking on her neck.

With a grunt, she shoves him away harshly and she rolls her shoulders back, trying her hardest to keep her breathing steady. He flattens his suit out, wiping a hand over his face.

"I'd like a drink," She states.

He nods silently, stepping over to his small drinks table and picking up a single glass before turning around again, holding his arm straight in front of him, and releasing the glass, letting it shatter on the wooden floor boards.

He gasps, acting shocked by his own purposeful actions, "Oh, look. I've dropped something." His gaze snaps over to her, "Pick it up."

She licks her lips, "Pick it up yourself." She snaps.

He begins to raise his voice, "You're a fucking bar maid. If I drop a glass on the floor, you pick it up."

"Usually, I just tell the childish men to pick up after themselves." She snarls through gritted teeth, "It's not my fault they can't hold onto a glass properly."

His jaw sets, and he begins marching across the room towards her, "Right, you little slag! I have tried to be nice."

Charlotte begins to pull up her dress so she can get her gun from the thigh holster, but he manages to capture her arms before roughly turning her around and slamming her chest against the pool table. When her cheek hits the hard surface, she continues struggle against his hands but her mind is somewhere else, reliving something else.

Charlie begins her walk back to her home after her first shift at the Garrison. She's nineteen, and quite frankly frilled that she no longer has to rely on the Shelby's money.

The streets are dark, and mostly quiet, apart from a few meowing cats and drunken men being kicked out of the pubs. Her heels click again the cobbles and she tightens her grip on the shawl around her body as she rounds the corner.

"Oi, beautiful!" A man throws himself out in front of her, dropping the bottle of alcohol he'd previously been holding so it shatters against the cobbles.

She steps back slightly, flinching at the loud sound, but he moves closer, shortening the distance between them.

"What do you want?" She asks, now only being a foot from him.

He smirks as drool falls from his open lips, "You."

She turns on her heel to run, but his arms are already around her waist and dragging her back into the alley he previously emerged from. She begins to scream, and he turns her around, slamming her back against the brick wall. His hand slaps up to her mouth, sike winch her yells.

"Shut up," He hisses, "Shut up or I'll kill ya."

Charlotte wasn't sure to believe him or not, but it's Birmingham, people are killed everyday by just randomers in the street. It's not a safe place, especially for women.

Her lip quivers under his hand, and tears rocket down her cheeks, but she stays as quiet as possible. Smirking horribly, he slides up her skirt, before pulling down her pants and she turns her head to the side, not being able to even look at the man while his hands explore her bare body.

"Shut up," He glares at her, removing his hand from her mouth so he can undo his own pants.

She begins to fight against his grip, but he groans, slapping her across the face roughly.

He bares his dirty teeth, "Stop fighting. You'll like what I'm about to do."

Another sob war is her body, but she stops fighting and tears cascade down her cheeks when she feels him push into her body. He lets a long groan, dropping his head to her shoulder while he moans.

Charlotte squeezes her eyes shut, trying to imagine herself something happy and fun. But it's impossible, every noise this man makes, or every time his hand touches a different part of her body, she cries harder.

After the worst five minutes of Charlotte Williams' life, she is finally released and the man dashes away into the night, leaving the blonde woman to collapse to the floor in a dark alleyway in the middle of the night.

She's bleeding, from several places and her body won't stop shaking in fear. She knows she should go somewhere safer, or get help, but she can't bring herself to move. Every muscle in her body has shut down.

Thomas Shelby pushes his way past the billiard room guard and he throws the door open, revealing a sight that causes his stomach to sink and his face to drop. Almost instantly, Billy Kimber jumps away from Charlotte, and she stands up in a hurry, her bottom lip quivering and her hands shakily running through her hair. Thomas meets her eyes, but he struggles to see any emotion in them.

"What are you doing here?" Billy shouts, "I've got another hour."

Thomas walks over, holding one hand in front of him while he tries to keep his eyes on Billy, but he can't help but look over at Charlotte in worry, "Just wait— Just listen to me. Just listen to me." He points a finger at the blonde woman next to him, "She looks good on the outside. . . but she has the clap."

Tommy glances over at Charlotte, expecting her to be glaring back at him, or her jaw to be clenched, but she has no reaction to his words. It's like she's not even in the room with them anymore.

"Syphilis." He continues, "When you took a shine to her, I thought I'd use her. A man she slept with a week back told me she had it, I had to come tell you. Call it my better nature. She's— She's a whore."

Charlotte begins to walk away, and Thomas places his hand on her lower back like always, but she shoves him away with as much energy as she can muster.

"Don't fucking touch me," She snarls in his face, stepping past him and matching out of the room while her hands still shake by her sides.

❦

Thomas Shelby wasn't sure what to do with himself. The drive home from Billy Kimber's house the day previous was completely silent, and Tommy regretted not speaking up, so now as he sits in the Shelby's kitchen, he stares at the stairs, contemplating whether or not to go up.

Charlotte had taken herself to bed last night. Hadn't uttered a word to anyone, not even her own brother and just laid in bed, sobbing silently while the memories of her nineteen year old self flashed through her mind. She throughly believed she had gotten over it, clearly she was wrong.

"You better go and bloody speak to her, Tom." Polly snaps as she enters the kitchen, "I have no clue what's happened but I can guarantee you're to blame. Go help her. Go comfort her. It's Charlie, for fucks sake, Tommy. You don't have to be a big hard Peaky Blinder in front of her. You've known her since birth. You've been through thick and thin with her. So go fuckin' speak to her!"

Thomas sighs, pushing himself out of the chair and trudging up the stairs. He's anxious, but as he pushes open her bedroom door it is replaced with worry for her. She is sat against the wall with her knees up to her chest and her head resting on top.

"Charlie?" He calls quietly, sitting down on her brother's bed opposite her, "Charlie, please, look at me."

Swallowing thickly, she raises her head, revealing her tear stained cheeks and bright red eyes. He shuts his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath before opening them again. Never in his life has Thomas enjoyed seeing Charlotte broken. The way she looks at him, is harsh and damaging.

"Get out," She snaps.

His eyebrows furrow, "You what? Charlotte, talk to me, please. Tell—"

Her nostrils flare, "Get out, Thomas!"

His head begins to shake, "Talk to me, Charlie. Tell me what happened and why the hell you're acting like this."

She squeezes her eyes shut, breathing in deeply, "Thomas, I swear to god, get the fuck out! If you don't leave, then I will."

"I'm not leaving 'til ya tell me what's got you sobbing your eyes out!" He leans forward, "Is it me, eh? Have I done something? Tell me what I've done. Talk to me."

She scoffs, "You're seriously havin' trouble figuring out what you did?" She stands up, running her hands over her face, "How dim can you be, Thomas?"

He stands up as well, basically following every movement she makes. His eyes study her body, noticing the stiffness and the shakiness. His eyes soften, "Charlotte, what did Kimber do to ya?"

"You're asking that like it wasn't you who basically sold me to him to get raped!" She yells, "You knew he were gonna do that. You knew, and still let me get in his fuckin' car."

"You know for a fucking fact that I would never let him lay a single hand on ya," Tommy argues back, "I'm the one who stopped him from going further."

"Thomas, he did lay a hand on me. In fact, he laid both hands on me, so clearly you've failed. You act like you care about me, but you only care about business," She rolls her eyes, "It's always business with ya. Even when I thought we were off to the markets together for a nice walk the other day, it turned out ya just went to scare Kimber! Ya didn't care about actually spending time with me, nor did you even consider my feelings. Ya know I hate him, so why would you even think about including me in your stupid fucking deal!"

"I were gonna use Grace, but he took more interest in ya," Thomas clenches his jaw, "I told ya this before."

She stares at him in astonishment, "So you'd be fine with Grace getting raped? You wouldn't care to sell her off to Billy Kimber?" A tear rolls down her cheeks, "Thomas, women aren't objects that you can just throw about just because you're a man."

"Don't ya think I know that?" He shouts, "That was somet our mam's always taught us. Charlotte, I never thought he would try to fucking rape ya, and I thought you would've been able to fight back."

She scoffs, letting out a sob, "You're unbelievable, Thomas Shelby. Does it ever occur to ya that ya don't know everything about me?" She turns on her heel, throwing open the door, "Fuck you."

"Fuck," He curses quietly, following after her, but by the time he reaches the bottom of the stairs, she's already slamming the front door closed, "Fuck." He drops his chin to his chest, running a hand over the back of his neck.

"I told you to comfort her, not fuckin' yell at her." Polly grumbles, "Bloody men and their masculinity getting in the way."

"She yelled at me first, Pol." Thomas mutters, "I only raised my voice 'cause she did."

"Good old Thomas Shelby and Charlotte Williams, always having to be louder than the other," Polly rolls her eyes, "You ain't children anymore. When are you gonna realise that you only have so long until another man gets her, Thomas, and it won't be you."

Thomas shakes his head, "Any man can 'ave her, I don't care."

Polly snorts, stepping into the other room, and slowly closing the door behind her, "Liar."

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word count:  2293

angst 💔