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“Yeah, from the wrong person.”

“No.” She shook her head. “From making the same mistakes as me.”

“Well, you asked me earlier if there was a chance I’d ever forgive you?” Swallowing, I clutched the edge of the mattress, looked my mother dead in the eyes and whispered, “Drive him away and the answer will benever again.”

10

Accusations

Johnny

“I am sorry, Johnny,” my father said when he parked the car at the back of our house beside my Audi later that night. “I should have listened to you.”

“I know, Da.” Exhausted, I unfastened my seat belt and swung the door open. He should have listened to me, but I couldn’t talk about it now. I was struggling with my feelings, desperately trying to hold the fuck onto my emotions and not lose it. It wasn’t easy though, and every time I thought about Shannon lying in that hospital, when I thought about those marks on her body, I slid closer to the edge.

I couldn’t get her out of my head, which, to be fair, was nothing new, but now it was different. I was confused, my feelings all fucked up and laced with nervous desperation. I didn’t want to leave her back there. If I had my way, I’d steal her away from that horrendous fucking family and keep her all to myself.

Helping me out of the passenger seat, Dad closed the door behind me and hooked an arm around my waist. I was glad of his help. My head was in pieces, my body weary and sore, and I didn’t think I had a whole pile of juice left in the tank. “I won’t make that mistake again, son.”

Grateful for the boost, I gave up on using my crutches and threw my right arm around his shoulders instead, leaning heavily against him. “I’m in bits, Da,” I admitted through clenched teeth, feeling the red-hot burn in my thighs and lower abdomen. “My body’s wrecked.”

“Good lad,” Dad coaxed as he tucked my crutches under one arm and guided me to the door. “That’s it—mind the step, son.”

“I’ve got it,” I bit out, forcing down a scream as I struggled over the doorstep. “I’m good.”

When we stepped into the kitchen, Mam was standing beside the cooker with her apron on and a wooden spoon in her hand. The moment she noticed us, she dropped her spoon into the pot of stew, her stirring forgotten, and hurried over to me. “Are you okay, love?” she asked, cupping my face in her hands, brown eyes warm and laced with maternal concern. “Are you sore? What about Shannon? Did you see her? Is it true? Did you get to talk to her—”

“Edel, love,” Dad interjected with a small shake of his head. “Not tonight. The lad is dead on his feet.”

Mam’s expression caved. “Oh god.” Her hands dropped to her sides as she stared up at me and Dad in horror. “It’s true, isn’t it?”

“It’s true, love,” Dad confirmed grimly. “He was right all along.”

Mam covered her mouth with her hands. “Her father?”

Dad nodded stiffly.

“Oh, John.” Tears filled my mother’s eyes. “That poor child.”

“It’s not just her, though, is it?” I snapped, bristling with agitation. “There’s a fucking ocean of children in that house.”

Mam flinched. “And you think…”

“I don’t know what I think anymore.” Swallowing down a surge of anger at the complete fucking injustice that it was to be a teenager in this world, I swiped my crutches from my father and growled, “I have no bleeding clue.” Brushing past them, I hobbled to the door. “I’m going to bed.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Mam called after me. “Johnny?”

“I need some space,” I muttered, not looking back. “I need some time to process this…shitstorm.”

“Johnny, love—”

“Edel, leave him be.”

“But, John, he can’t manage the stairs on his own—”

“Edel, let the boy be.”

At a snail’s pace, I made it down the hallway to the staircase, ignoring my parents as they argued between themselves. My breathing was labored from the sheer exertion it took to get my body to comply andmove. When I finally made it to the top of the stairs, having deserted my crutches three steps up, I felt faint. Digging deep into the storage tank of will inside of me, I steeled my spine and pushed on. It wasn’t until I was inside my bedroom, with my door closed behind me, that I let it out.

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