Arabella || Peaky Blinders [Michael Gray]

twenty seven

Chapter Twenty Seven
"Please don't go."

The hospital doors flung open. Arabella hurried alongside the stretcher Michael writhed on, gripping tightly onto his bloodstained hand.

"Please, can we get some help here?!" Polly cried out urgently. "It's all right, Michael. It's all right, Michael. You're going to be OK. Don't leave us now. Just keep breathing."

"Please don't go," Arabella whispered tearfully. "Please," she pleaded. Michael's hand clenched tightly around hers.

"No," Polly snapped as they reached the private room. Doctors began to swarm around the stretcher, wheeling Michael further inside. "No. I don't want fucking kids in here. I want soldiers!" She demanded, whirling her head towards the doorway Tommy stood in, a few Peaky men stationed behind him. "I don't want fucking kids who joined us for the sport!"

"All right," Tommy mumbled, pushing the men back out of the room. "Get out. Go on. Go."

"I want men who served in here!" Polly shouted.

Arabella felt Michael's grip tighten around her hand again, and she turned her attention back to him, softly grazing her thumb against his skin. "It's gonna be okay," she whispered.

"Miss, could you please step aside?" One of the doctors asked her. Arabella's eyes flickered up towards the man, hesitantly nodding her head. She glanced down at Michael, squeezing his hand once more before stepping away, allowing the doctors to do their jobs.

"God, please, don't take my son," Polly began to beg, flinging herself over Michael's body.

"Mrs Gray, please," the doctor urged, attempting to usher her out of the way.

"Polly." Arabella tentatively reached out to touch her shoulder. "Polly–"

"Please, don't," Polly cried. "God, don't take my son."

"Pol," Tommy moved towards her, placing his hands on her shoulders, gently pulling her away. "Pol. He's in good hands."

"God, please, don't take my son!"

"Polly," Tommy tried again. "Pol?! Pol? Damn, fuck those bastards responsible. All right. Let them do their job, all right? Let them do their job." He glanced over at Arabella, who had taken a few steps back, her entire body having stiffened in fear, and worry, and horror, as she watched the doctors get to work on saving Michael. "Arabella, come on," Tommy spoke gently, trying to coax her away. "Arabella–"

She turned her head, tearful eyes lifting to meet Tommy's for the briefest instance, before she stepped away. Arabella took one final glance at Michael, one she would pray wouldn't be the last. Her shoulders began to sink in helpless defeat. There was nothing she could do now. And she hated that. It made her upset. It made her angry. But not as angry as she was at Thomas Shelby.

"I'll get soldiers," Tommy assured Polly, placing his hands on the distraught woman's shoulders to keep her at bay. He caught Arabella moving out of the room from the corner of his eye, quickly turning back to a shaken Polly. "I'll be back," he told his aunt. "I'll be back."

Arabella left Michael's room and stepped into the busy corridor, knowing very well that Tommy was following after her. "Arabella!" He called out, capturing the attention from members of staff passing by. They all looked in the girl's direction, but she kept waking away. "Arabella!" Tommy called again, quickening his pace to catch up to her. "Arabella, stop." He reached for her arm, attempting to pull her back. "Arabella–"

"Don't fucking touch me," she hissed as she whirled around, shoving his hands away with such force that Tommy almost stumbled, taken aback by the sight in front of him. Arabella's eyes were red rimmed and bloodshot, her thick blushes lashes clumped together, tears still streaking down her cheeks; a face drained of colour, and completely raw with such emotion that, even if Tommy didn't know Arabella as well as he did, he could easily have identified every single emotion crossing her expression.

"Arabella–"

"Fuck off, Tommy," She snapped, attempting to push him back again. "Leave me the fuck alone."

Arabella turned around to leave again, but Tommy moved in front of her, catching her elbow. "Was it him? Was it Changretta?"

Her gaze lifted to meet his, a coldness glazing over in her eyes, the muscles in her jaw hardening as a stony expression etched across her face. "I have nothing to say to you." She shoved his arm away, attempting to move past once and for all, but Tommy side steppes her, blocking her way past. "Get the fuck out of my way, Tommy or I swear to God–"

"Arabella, we need to talk."

She took a step back, finger jabbed towards him, her eyes flickering from wide with disbelief to a hard, narrowed, furious stare. "You think I wanna talk to you?" She choked out. "You think I wanna fucking talk to you, Tommy?" She slammed both palms against his chest, though the force barely moved him him. "You think I wanna talk to the person who started all this? The reason why John is–" she cut herself off, swallowing the thick lump building in the back of her throat. "– the reason why Michael is in there, and he might not even fucking make it!" She pointed towards the hospital too, shaking her head as she moved to storm past him. "Fuck you Tommy," she told him, stopping right in front of him. "You're a fucking bastard."

"Arabella, listen–"

"I said fuck off!" She shouted, the volume in her voice stopping him in his tracks, and many other onlookers, who watched the two of them uncertainly. "Don't fucking follow me."

Tommy stood in the midst of the corridor, slightly dumbfounded as he watched Arabella walk away, the thick and heavy emotion present in her voice hitting him like a punch to the face.

Arabella breathed in deeply as she walked away, muscles in her chin beginning to wobble, the entire defence she'd managed to put up for those few minutes with Tommy slowly beginning to crumble. She came to a stop at the end of the corridor, a quieter area, leaning against the wall to catch her breath.

Arabella's chest began to tighten, the overwhelming and agonising pain of losing John suddenly hitting her, drawing the air from her lungs as if she'd just been the one to get shot instead.

She slammed her hand over her mouth to muffle the pained cry clawing at her throat, pressing her forehead against the wall. Arabella's hands trembled, even as she pressed them against the wall, and she would have likely collapsed to her knees if somebody hadn't been there to hold her up.

"Hey, hey, hey." Arthur had rushed over upon arrival into the hospital, spotting Arabella the moment he stepped through the doors. "It's all right, Arabella." He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her into his chest before she lost balance and fell. The moment he did so, Arabella burst into tears, heavy, painful sobs tearing through her entire body. She clasped onto Arthur's jacket, pressing her face into his chest, her cries becoming muffled. "I know, I know," he sighed heavily as her tears began to soak into his shirt. "I got you," he whispered. "I've got you."

Arabella had never felt so alone in her life.

A/N

She is so tiny and angry but I love her so much