3

I wake up dreading work, but also looking forward to what's to come with the mates in the prison. This isn't anything I can say is new, I almost always wake up dreadful of what the inmates of the Sparkhill prison will bring to me.

I put on my nursing suit - a set of scrubs the colour of mustard, kissing grandad Francis goodbye and drive off to the prison. It's an old prison house, only carries a few hundred men. There are three nurses mad enough to work there apart from me, and two doctors who never show up. We have a few spiritual guides also come in, and visitors coming to visit their fathers, sons, boyfriends. All of whom are either serving the death sentence or about to die themselves of old age.

"Good morning William!" I say, bearing crutches for him.

His eyes go wide the moment he walks into my office, I mention the wooden walking sticks to him. "Wow! For me?!"

I put a smile on my face, wide and excited for him. "Yes for you. But, I've promised the warden that you won't make the crutches into some sort of weapon or shank. Alright?"

"To you?!" He crosses his heart. "I would never! Alene! Thank you!"

The day goes on with me dealing with patients with illnesses from the common flu to some sort of respiratory infection. A few inmates had bad cases of the runs, others have been complaining about massive backaches due to the awful bed.

I save the best for last, making my way to his dungeon with a frown on my face. I was scared beyond belief of what the day was to bring when I meet his sleeping body. He's completely quiet, but his chest rises and falls at a quick pace. I allow my hands to fall against the side of his face, feeling out his temperature and making sure alls well. He feels scratchy, but warm. Not anything remotely alarming which is good. My eyes catch the sight of whiskey and smokes, the little glass full of morphine. I almost lunge towards his nightstand and gather it into my hands. Taking all of them into my nurse uniforms large pockets. I hide them all before sweeping his hair from his face.

My eyes trickle down to his hands, bruised from previous fights I'm sure. I note the ring on his wedding finger and instantly my heart jolts out of place. Married? I look back up at him, wondering what kind of ill woman would get married to such a man.

He looks innocent as he sleeps, like a holy man with good aspirations and intentions. Not a man who chokes a woman in fear that she is working with his enemy. Which reminds me.

Blinder. Hah. I was sure to do research about them the moment I went home. Had to ask my grandfather about the Blinders, and he nearly shat his pants poor thing. The Peaky Blinders, a gang that originated in Small Heath and is making its way throughout England. Powerful men who lurk in the shadows. I had to ask my granddad if he knew any of them by name, but he couldn't recall.

I thought grandad was telling me some sort of folk tale, but I had gotten to chatting about the Peaky Blinders with a gentleman at the grocery store last night who also began to babble on about them.

Do you reckon you know a Tommy Shelby by chance?

He's the bloody leader! The bloke replied to me.

My jaw might as well have hit the floor.

Once I push back a hair from his face does he open his eyes and frown at me. He's got luscious lips. I pull my hand back, "You're awake."

"And you're touching me." He hisses. "What do you want?"

I put my hands on my hips and look away. "I ah, well I-"

"Were you admiring me?"

"I was not!" I flat out say, embarrassed. Hmph. "As a matter of fact, I find you quite disgusting."

He cocks an eyebrow, entertained.  "Oh?"

"Don't think I don't know who you bloody are." I hiss, looking at him like the despicable man I sought him out to be. "You blinder."

"You thought I was chatting about a sports team yesterday." He says, unfazed, but amused.

"I was only kidding." I scoff. "No, I know exactly who you are. And before you go trying to harm me, I'll have you know, I will defend myself the next time you dare put your hands on me."

"I don't think I've ever been so scared." He smirks before suddenly frowning, "You know, you never told me why you left London to be a prison nurse in a rural town."

"I'm not obligated to tell you anything." I wrap my arms over my chest, Thomas rolls his eyes. "Christ, you must really be getting the piss out of this."

"You're the first person I've ever met who didn't seem scared of me." He tells me, without hesitating. "It's like you have no fear, Alene."

"What do I have to be afraid of?" I whisper, looking down at him. "You're hurt. Wounded. You said it yourself, you need me. Right?"

He nods. "Right."

"Good." I say before remembering that I haven't tended to his wounds across his torso. "Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to finish doing my job."

"Your job." He nods. "The one where you admire me as I sleep, or the one where you-"

I groan, letting out a laugh. "Fuck off!"

It takes me a while to actually get my head in the game as Tommy lifts his arms and allows me to do my thing. Its hard to not pay attention to the detail of his physical appearance, I mean, the man is fucking beautiful to say the least. And the closer I get, the more I can see intricate details of him, like his long thin black eyelashes, his high cheekbones, the way his lips turn a berry pink when he rolls his tongue overtop. His eyes are a stunning blue, lighter than day but there is an emptiness too. One that makes me sad.

Most of the inmates here are soulless, and they look fucking miserable. But Tommy, Christ, he looks like he's never seen the sun in years. Like someone's taken his soul and left him empty. Alone.

He looks up at me, a blank stare that is intimating. His hand rests on his stomach, fingertips touch the line of hair that disappears under his drawers. I sit right beside him, pressing cold cloths to open wounds, and rubbing ointment to make sure it doesn't get infected.

Every now and then, I look into his eyes, and see him looking back at me. I wonder what he thinks about, because I know he's thinking about something. But instead, I internalize everything. Allowing myself the time to take care of him the way I had sworn I would. I don't think much of it until once I finish and he grabs my wrist, stopping me from getting up.

I look at him, to see a man who is vulnerable and out of place. "Alene," He whispers my name, eyebrows pulled together.

I grown concerned, frowning, "What is it?"

Just when I think he's going to enter my brain with his ideas and technicalities do I feel him pull back and shut all of his doors on me. Leaving me out. "Nothing." He states.

I get up to stand, making my way to my medical kit and gather my things. Routinely closing it up and putting everything away. Walking towards the door, I can feel his whiskey, morphine and smokes in my pocket and think about just leaving them all with him. I can't be bothered bothering him like that. But regardless, how fucking guilty would that look, me just putting his stuff back down on his table like oops, sorry. So, instead, I prepare myself for departure. I'm ready to go, when again, his voice stops me.

"I'm sorry." He clears his throat. "I'm sorry for what I did to you. I can't stop thinking about it and-"

"It's okay. I get it." I don't get it. He's totally fucked up but... I can't necessarily blame him for what he did. I hold the door with my arm up, pushed between the room and hallway.

He opens his mouth, "I just don't want you to think I'd do that again to you."

Imagining myself smiling and saying, of course babe, is a flat out fucking lie. So, I be honest and do what I usually do in situations I feel awkward in. I get the hell out of there. "I'll see you tomorrow, Tommy."