XIII. 1919

TW | r*pe

She stood in the doorway, silent. He sat on the edge of his bed, smoking a cigarette. "Are you comin' in or not?" He sighed, finally looking up at her.

"Haven't decide yet." She said. The window was open, letting the Birmingham air in. It was early in the morning, before most of Small Heath were usually awake.

By the time he finished his cigarette, she had made a decision and stepped into the bedroom. They hadn't been alone since they argued in pub bathroom, and he stormed out.

She closed the door behind her and stood in front of him, facing the window, "Nice evening." She stated, quietly.

"Nice evening?" Scott scoffed. He looked up at her, seeing her side-profile, "Yeah it is." He spoke after a moment.

"Are you drunk?' She asked, there was no smell in the bedroom of liquor.

"No, haven't had anything today actually." He answered her, "Has Ryan spoke to you?"

"No, not yet. Do you know what he wants to talk about? I'm actually worried he's going to tell me he's dying." She joked. When she glanced down at him, he didn't react. She felt him tense up, "Is he okay? Do you know something?" She asked, concerned for the boy she saw as a brother.

The Gilbert boy looked up at her. He met her worried eyes. It was quiet between the two. He stood up, standing a few inches above her, "Are you two fucking?" He asked, his brow furrowed.

She laughed taking a step back from him, "are ya taking the piss?" Her smiled faltered as she realised it was a genuine question, "Of course not, what the fuck?" She said.

He brought his hands up to her shoulders, "you wouldn't lie, no?" He muttered, holding her still. She stared up at him, nervous and confused.

She stuttered a little, "No. Why would-?"

He nodded, scoffing, "So you're telling me you haven't fucked him? Or Isaiah? You two seem close." He sneered.

"Fuck no. What are you on about?  You asked if I spoke to Ryan and I said no. You haven't told me why he wants to talk to me and I'm thinking the worst. You aren't giving me any reassurance, what am I supposed to think, Scott." She ranted, "now that I'm showing that I'm worried for my friend, you start accusing me of shagging him and my other friend. I-"

She knew he knew that Ryan, Isaiah and her were just friends and he had the cheek to start this up.

She shoved his hands off of her and stepped away, wearily, "you're just whoring yourself out to the whole gang, eh?" He backed her against the wall. He brought his hand up to her face and stroked her cheek roughly, before bringing both hands up to her neck, tightly holding it.

"I'm not." She said though gritted teeth, while clawing at his hands, "God, you're so fucking insecure."

He took his hands away from her neck. "You think you can talk to me like that." He spat in her face, pulling her chin up suddenly, causing her to gasp at the slight pain, "eh? You think you can get away with that?"

"Get your hands off me." She spat back. He didn't reply. While one hand held her head up, the other wandered down to her waist. When she tried to hit his chest, he came even closer.

He stared at her as he pulled her out of her long coat, meanwhile the another hand held her still. Her arms were trapped between both of their bodies, as she struggled.

There was a knife in her coat pocket, that if she could reach she could stab him. But would she follow through?

"You don't want to do this, Scott." She tried reaching for it but she didn't get the chance as he pulled it out before her.

"Do what, Vivian?" He asked, now holding the blade to her neck as the coat fell to the floor. She froze as he smirked at her. He played with her blouse and tore her it, exposing her chest. He knew what he was doing. She let herself end up in this position. Her own weapon used against her.

His smug smile dropped when her knee made contact with his groin. He doubled over and she took that as an opportunity to get out of there.

Vivian didn't get far as he grabbed her arm before she could reach the handle. He pulled her arm roughly, causing to fall and hit her head on the dresser.

She didn't have time to think or process anything as he pulled her up and pushed her over to the bed. Feeling dizzy, she stumbled, falling again if it wasn't for him holding up. The boy pushed her onto the mattress

The knife was pointed at her neck again, "I will use this." He whispered. She momentarily squeezed her eyes shut, fighting the urge to burst into tears.

Vivian tried to keep her eyes on his hand, on the knife while his eyes focused purely on her body. She was laid back as he hovered over her. The sharp point of the blade hit her neck, causing her to hiss in pain. She tried not to beg, 'it will get you nowhere', she told herself over and over again.

She wouldn't beg, — she couldn't — so she tried something else.

Her hands lifted up slowly to his shirt, undoing the buttons. Her hands shook as she did so. The boy smirked at the action.

She'd catch him off guard. Her brother used to say to wait until there guard is down. She couldn't remember which one told her but obviously they were stupid enough to tell that to a eight old who found joy in stealing from the local sweet shop.

He was left topless as he took his belt off. As his focus was on the belt she slowly, dropped her hand to the knife and then she snatched it from his grip.

He looked back at her with a scowl as she turned the knife around, holding it tightly in her hand, "go on." He muttered.

"How do you do it? Go from being so charming and loving . . . To this?" She asked, ignoring his comment.

His hand moved through her hair as the blade poked at his neck, "Come on peaky girl, do it, slit my throat. It's in your blood to be so cruel."

Like she tried, he was trying to catch her when she less expected it, although she was too distracted, leaving her to find that out after the knife clattered against the wooden floorboard when he pulled it out of her grip and threw it away.

"Scott, please." She spoke, trying not sound desperate but it was hard when she choked on her words.

"You owe me. You ruined us." He spat. This was a different person. This wasn't Scott. This wasn't real.

She stopped struggling for a moment, staring into his eyes. He had scrunched her skirt up and he pulled his trousers down, "no, not now, please." She whispered. She held his head in her hands trying to make him see her pleading, but she gasped as he entered her suddenly. Vivian didn't cry — she couldn't.

Maybe this was always what Scott was like but she was too blinded by love and comfort. She was too naive.

"Stop, Scott." She spoke loudly, shouting almost. His hands were tightly on her waist as she felt the urge to cry but she kept the tears at bay. Constantly shouting his name and hitting his chest — sure to leave bruises —, as he was lost in a daze. He was rough with her as he grunted loudly into her ear. She cried out in pain, squeezing her eyes shut, wishing she was somewhere else.

The clock on the wall could be hear over the sounds that filled the room. She turned her head to the side, looking at the knife that lay on the floor, useless now.

The girl had no idea how long she lay there in tears. He collapsed on top of her. He kissed from her chest to her neck then she felt his breath tickle her neck as he hid his face in the crook of her neck, " i love you V."

"Get off me." She whispered to him. She felt him hummed against her neck, "get off me before I smash this glass over your head."

When he pulled his head off her, he saw her gripping a glass that once sat on his bedside table. Her grip on the glass turned her knuckles white.

"Listen V, I'm sorry-" he went to reach for the glass but she pulled away. Tears built up in his eyes as he looked around. It's as like he just realised where he was and what he was doing. Like he was possessed before.

"Get off me. Now." She spat, tears still gathering in her eyes. She still couldn't believe she let this happen. Again, she let him take advantage of her. He tried to kiss her but she bit his lip. Hard enough for his lip to start bleeding, "I will smash this glass over your head."

She stood up slowly, ready to throw the glass at his head. Her makeup was smudged, mascara ran out her and a lip, bruises scattered around her body. She took her knife from the floor as well as her coat. She wanted to get out as soon as possible. He pleaded with her, to stay, to talk. As if this was all fixable.

The girl dropped the glass on the floor as if it was nothing so she could put on her long coat. The glass shattered, cutting her feet but she really didn't care. She barely flinched as she walked over the shards, to the door.

Again, he took her arm before she could leave but this time, she stabbed him in the shoulder. She'd be lying if she said she didn't wanted to stab him a few more times. Silence filled the room as she stood before him while he held his arm.

Vivian felt nothing but pain in that moment. His hand now dyed red from holding the open wound. While under her hair was probably the same crimson colour and under her skirt. He stared at her, guilt clear on his face but she couldn't find it in herself to care.

The trust she had for this person was so easily broken. In those ten seconds they stood there in silence, their whole relationship flashed before her eyes. The times before, when they were just friends. It pained up that two hours ago she would have trusted him with her life despite the previous times when he would harm her. This was different. She hated how weak and stupid she was, looking back on it.

Coming back to reality when he tried to reach out to her, she slapped him across the face and left. She stumbled down the stairs and ran out the down.

Running barefoot, people watched the Shelby sprint through the streets. If she wasn't who she was, they say she was a whore. She was kept running, even though she knew no one was chasing her. Scott knew not to chase her, even in this moment.

She ran into an alleyway, catching her breath. She doubled over, holding the wall and got sick. Her stomach was in a knot and her head was spinning.

After a moment, she realised where she was, and ran out of the alley. The alley she was in when Scott drunkenly groped her. Her head was a mess and she felt the the sore wound on the back of her head.

All of a sudden she ran into someone, and she stumbled back, "Sorry" she muttered, only to look up and see non other than Lizzie fucking Stark. Her almost sister-in-law. Lizzie held her shoulders, keeping her steady as she swayed a bit.

"Are you alright?" She asked, trying to meet her eyes, but Vivian kept her head down, "Why're you barefoot?" Lizzie mentioned again, looking at her feet.

"I'm sorry, I've really gotta go." And before Lizzie could say anything, the girl was gone again.

When she got Waterly Lane, she realised she couldn't go in to her home in this state. She cried quietly to herself as she got frustrated.

So she went for the next best option. Her fists hammered against the door. The door was answered and she immediately fell into the arms of the owner.

—

The Shelby girl didn't know what she wanted as she sat in the living room. Janet sat beside her, trying to get her to talk, but she couldn't without feeling like she was going to start crying, and she didn't want to cry in front of anyone. She already felt pathetic and foolish as it was. Saving face. Two words that ran through her head since her family walked to the train station before the boys were sent off.

Two tea cup sat in front of her on the table. The fire was burning, heating the room. There was a lamp beside the couch on a another table. She had stared at the lamp for ten minutes, listing the pros and cons of firing it into the fireplace. She would have but realised it wasn't her house and Janet didn't deserve the mess.

"Who did this to you?" Janet asked. Vivian didn't answer, "Was it one of your brothers? Or your dad?" Vivian shook her head. Her friend reached for the girls hand, holding it in comfort. She pulled away quickly, feeling a spark or a shock at the touch of the Greene girl.

"Do you want to talk about it at all?" Vivian shook her head, "Is there anything I can do?" She shook her head again. The regret of going to number 15 setting in.

She looked back at the lamp, debating smashing the lamp over her head, but again chose to just answer.

"It was Scott." Vivian finally voiced. She heard Janet gasp.

"Are yo- Scott? W-what happened?" Janet asked, turning her whole body toward her friend.

"We just go into a fight. It didn't end well, obviously. It's never been this bad before." She said in a monotone.

"Before?" Janet asked. Vivian nodded.

"Sometimes he'd have a few drinks and he'd be a bit more touchier than usual or sometimes aggressive. But today. . . he was sober, knew that he was . . . hurting me." Janet nodded along as Vivian explained a bit too casually. It was just that she didn't have the energy. She felt like crying but she was too tired.

"He hasn't been himself in a while, but ever since I met him, his mood would always change very suddenly, recently going from this caring boy who would take me out to the green to starting fights over my family. From comforting me to shoving me around." She had never said this out loud before.

Janet's eyes remained on the forming bruise on her chin as Vivian looked up to the ceiling for a moment, "why didn't you say anything? I didn't know what he was like." She spoke quietly, in a comforting yet unsettling manner.

Vivian turned to look at her for the first time, "I thought —maybe —, if yous didn't notice it, it wasn't a big deal. Look, he's different with me then when he is out with all of us, so of course you didn't notice it, no one did."

The words that came out of her mouth made her feel stupid again, "he was always there for me — now and during war. It was the best when he was happy and loving. I didn't want to lose him. But I see less and less of that side of him the past few months."

It was now she felt the tears built up in her eyes again, "I know what you're thinking. The look on your face says everything."

"What?" Jan asked.

"You wonder why I would stay with him after all that shit." The girl stated.

"He charmed you, made you feel safe when you had no one else. You didn't want to lose him because you'd lose your safe place. And if you didn't have that, you'd feel lost, especially in such a vulnerable time in your life." Vivian listened to Janet as her friend was lost in a daze, tears threatening to roll down her cheek.

"Are you alright?" Vivian asked, she was concerned but her tone nor expression portrayed it.

"Yea. Are you?" Vivian watched as a single tear fell from the Greene's eye.

Janet stared at her, worry spread across her face, "'Course."

"What did he do?" Janet asked.

"Pushed me 'round." Vivian answered, looking away from her and back to the fireplace. Janet's hand came to Vivian's again and, again, she flinched at the touch and pulled her hand away.

"Be honest, Vivian." Janet stated.

"Pushed me 'round a bit, Janet." She sighed. She didn't want to talk about it. About how he use her knife against her or about how she let him just use her. What she had said to her friend already was enough for today, she had decided, "I'm gonna use your toilet." She stood up before Janet could butt in.

Knowing where to go, she walked down the halls. The walls weren't bare at all. Covered with photos, ornaments and shelves. Pictures of the Greene family. Small watercolour paintings. Random chains that hung off the edge of the shelves.

There were a few dents and marks on the wall but not as bad as the walls in the Shelby household. She'd guess every Shelby ran into, got shoved into, or punched and kicked every wall in that house.

The bathroom door was painted a dark blue compared to the green door to the living room. Janet said it was her house so she'd do as she pleased.

Closing and locking the door behind her, she stared at herself in the small mirror that hung over the sink. She stared at herself and pitied the person in the mirror. She felt embarrassed.

The fact that she was in someone else's house, looking like this. She was ashamed of what she saw in front of her. Ashamed of what she let happen. She gripped the sink as her face was pale.

A sudden wave of sickness waved over her. She fell to the floor, grabbing the toilet bowl. She threw up what ever was left in her stomach. The floor was cold as she kneeled down.

The taste of sick in her mouth wasn't as bad as the feeling that his hands were still on her. She held her head over the bowl for a few minutes.

"Are you alright in there, Vi?" Janet voiced from the hallway. She walked away after Vivian didn't reply. Vivian didn't know what to say. She wasn't alright

—

On the other side of the blue door, two numbers were dialled into the house phone.

"Umm hello . . .  no, I'm looking for Polly Shelby?" Janet spoke down the phone.

"Hello, Mrs. Shelby . . . right sorry- Mrs Gray, Vivian is here but she isn't in good shape. I didn't want to leave my house just in case, but I live across the street and I think you should- number 15-" the phone was placed back down and not even two minutes later there was a harsh knock on the door.

Polly looked the girl up and down before Janet pointed and guided her to the bathroom. As the pair walked down the hallway, something smashing could be heard on the other side of the door.

—

Vivian's head lay against the wall. She had heard Janet mumbling down the phone but the girl didn't pay attention to her friend's business. She had sat down near the toilet ready to stick her her in it if she needed to.

Everything hurt and ached. She leaned over to the cabinet below the sink. Opening the small door, it was filled with cleaning products and towels, among other things but there were painkillers and that was all thats he was looking for right now. She probably should have grabbed the first aid kit but she just wanted to pain to stop.

She heard the front door open outside but didn't as she reached for the pills. While doing so, she knocked over a brown bottle that shattered when it fell on the tiles.

She sighed heavily as she pushed all the bigger shards into a pile. Once down that she reached for the pills, and poured out some and took about four. She pushed up herself up to the sink for some water and as she did so she cut her palms on the small shards.

The girl hissed in pain but didn't stop as she pulled herself up, needing a moment to balance. She stuck to mouth under the tap and took enough to swallow the pills.

There was a small knock at the door, and a voice that made her snap her head to the blue door, "Vivian, come out please." Her aunt spoke.

Vivian knew all too well that if she stayed for in there for too long Janet's door would be removed. She washed her face quickly and flattened down her hair that was all frizzed from before.

She unlocked the door seeing her aunt there with her friend standing behind nervously. Her weight was completely on the door frame as she stared at her aunt.

As she stared, Polly took in her niece's appearance. When she got the call from some girl — who she now recognised from John and Esme's wedding as well as from around the markets and streets — she was confused and worried as she thought Vivian was home, in her room, sleeping peacefully.

Janet was very vague on the phone, not that Polly gave her time to speak further. 'Bad shape' was what she said and Pol went across that street.

And indeed she was in very bad shape. Polly saw the blood, the cuts, the black and blue marks, and the look on her face. It reminded her too much of when she saw Tommy step of the train. He looked emotionless, trying not to portray what was going on inside his head. The pain he went through, the pain she knew he wouldn't tell a soul about.

Standing in front of the girl she watched grow up, she began to think of what would happen if she had left to go to Ada's and wasn't around to get the call. Would she even realise or know of the state her niece was in? She barely sees Vivian. She is either out or Vivian is.

"Sorry about the glass." Vivian apologised, breaking the silence. She stood there emotionless looking both woman in the eye.

Janet was taken aback at how she had changed from when she came in the door first to now — with her chin up, making eye contact with them, speaking more clearing.

"Let's go home." Polly said to Vivian.

Vivian walked passed the two and they watched her as she held the walls and fumble with the door. Polly saw the blood on the back of her neck and on the collar of her coat. And the blood on her skirt. She saw there was no blouse or undergarment on under that coat.

Polly looked in on the bathroom. The big pieces of glass in a pile and some blood on some smaller pieces. The smell of bleach. There was more blood on the floor form where she must of sat.

Before she followed her niece, she nodded at Janet. When she walked out Vivian was stood there, waiting with a cigarette. She knew why she waited after seeing how much she relied on the walls on Janet's house to keep up right. Pol watched as she brought the lighter to cancer stick.

The cigarette was plucked out of her hand before the thing was even lit and her aunt's arm linked through her's. They walked across the street. Vivian was well aware that they had a reputation to uphold so she kept her head held up as best she could, but she struggled, with the dizziness making it worse.

But all Polly was worried about was that the girl didn't pass out or fall over. It was a short walk that took less than thirty seconds usually, but she slowed them down, being weary of her niece.

They entered through the door with the men handing around the living area. Vivian was tried to get away from the crowds of gamblers. But when she tried to pull her arms from her aunt's, she couldn't. Polly held her arm, "Clear out! Out!" She shouted pushing them toward betting den, "If you're not making a bet, out! If you work here, out! Everyone, out!"

Without knowing Vivian had put all her weight on her aunt's body. She was guided over to the couch where she fell down. The pills hadn't kicked in yet.

Polly sat beside her, taking her hands in hers. She inspected her hands and got up again to get the first aid kit in the other room.

And the Shelby was left alone again. Except for the woman in her nightgown who sat across from her. She was dripping wet and pale. Her mother did nothing but sit there staring at her.

—

NOTES

    Poor girl. This chapter was hard to write and I hadn't planned to do this for a good few chapters but i started writing it now. I need to be edit this and re read it, so sorry for any mistakes. I'm trying to get back into writing more regularly so fingerscrossed x