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“Get off my brother!” Tadhg screamed as he held the tip of the knife to our father’s throat, hand steady as a rock, eyes locked on our father.

“Tadhg, put down the knife,” Mam cried, moving slowly toward him. “Please, baby.”

“Fuck you,” Tadhg shot back, never taking his eyes off our father. “Get. Off. My. Brother.”

Do it, Tadhg, I silently prayed,make him stop forever.

“Don’t be stupid, boy.” Dad laughed, but there was no humor in his voice now—just apprehension.

Good.

Be afraid.

“I’m not stupid,” Tadhg replied, voice deathly cold. “And I’m not Joey.” He stepped closer, pressing the tip of the knife that bit closer. “I won’t stop because Shannon says so.”

My heart broke.

He was eleven years old and this was what they had turned him into. I was praying for him to kill our father, to finish this off. What the hell did that make me?

A part of me wanted to beg my brother to just stick that knife through me so I could be done with it all. They were all so strong and I was weak. I wasn’t tough enough. I couldn’t bounce back like the rest of them.

I was defective.

“Tadhg,” Joey panted from the floor, chest rising and falling quickly as he drew breath after desperate breath into his lungs, our father’s hand still wrapped around his throat. “It’s okay.” His face was covered in blood, his nose clearly broken again. Both of his hands were wrapped around the one hand Dad had pinning his throat. “Just take it easy—”

“It’s not okay, Joe,” Tadhg replied, voice void of all emotion. “None of this is okay.”

“What are you going to do, boy?” Dad sneered, still straddling Joey, but his bloodshot eyes were full of anxiety and locked on my little brother. “Stab me?”

“Yes.”

Calling his bluff, Dad reached a hand up to take the knife, but quickly flinched away as a trickle of blood ran down the side of his neck. “Jesus Christ, Tadhg!” he bellowed, Adam’s apple bobbing nervously. “You cut me.”

“This ends now,” Tadhg replied, taking another step forward. “Get off my brother and get out of this house for good, or I’ll slit your throat and you can die.”

I wasn’t sure if it was immense relief or bitter regret I felt when I watched my father release Joey and climb to his feet. A mixture of both, I suspected, though it was hard to form coherent thoughts anymore so I couldn’t be sure.

Too tired to hold up my own body weight, I leaned forward and rested my cheek on the table. Taking in quick, short breaths, I tried to hold still, to not move and jostle my bones.

Everything hurt so bad.

The taste of blood in my mouth, trickling down the back of my throat, made me gag. Shuddering, I whimpered from the reflex and just stopped moving altogether. I resigned myself to the sensation of it, to the metallic taste of copper on my tongue.

Feeling woozy and disconnected, I allowed my eyelids to flutter shut, blocking out their voices as they shouted at one another by concentrating on the erratic beat of my heart as it thundered in my ears.

“Fucking help her, will ya!”

Thump, thump, thump.

“I’m going to kill you, Marie.”

Th-thump…thump, thump, thump.

“Get the fuck out!”

Thump…thump…thu…thump…

“You’re a dead woman walking.”

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