Page 7 of Cowboy
I blink, focusing on her. "Sorry, what?"
She sighs dramatically. "I asked if you've finished your homework. You know how important your grades are if you want to get into a good university."
"Yes, I've finished it," I lie smoothly. Homework is the least of my concerns right now.
Dylan shoots me a look, knowing full well I haven't touched my schoolwork. But he doesn't say anything, just goes back to pushing food around his plate.
“I’ve got to go. I won’t be long,” Dylan tells us as he rises to his feet. He’s already finished his dinner, I don’t know how he manages to eat so quickly. He moves toward me and presses a kiss to my cheek. “Be good and do your homework,” he tells me.
My heart races as I watch him leave. I don’t want him to go. Whatever trouble he’s in, it could find him. I feel sick that he’s gone. I’m terrified something is going to happen to him.
“Caoimhe, what’s going on with you?” Auntie Trish asks. “You’re not eating and you look like you’re about to be sick.”
I shake my head. “Just not feeling well. I’m sorry. The dinner was lovely.”
Her eyes narrow slightly but she nods. “Go on up and rest. I’ll save it for you for later if you feel better.”
I nod gratefully and hurry up to my room, closing the door behind me. As soon as I'm alone, I start to pace my small room, chewing my lip. I’m worried about him.
A soft ping from my phone interrupts my thoughts. It's a text from Ciarán.
Ciarán: Hey, is Dylan there?
My heart races. This could be my chance to get some answers.
Me: No, he just left. Said he wouldn't be long. Is everything okay?
There's a long pause before Ciarán replies.
Ciarán: Yeah, fine. Just checking in. Let me know when he gets back?
The vague response only heightens my suspicion. I hesitate for a moment before typing out my next message.
Me: Ciarán, I know something's going on. Dylan's been acting weird for weeks. Please, tell me what's happening. I'm worried about him.
Another long pause. I hold my breath, hoping he'll finally give me some answers.
Ciarán: It's complicated, Caoimhe. Dylan doesn't want you involved.
Me: I'm already involved. He's my brother. Please, Ciarán. I need to know.
I don’t get a response and I know I’m not going to either. God, why can’t anyone tell me what the hell is going on?
I’m awoken by the doorbell ringing. I blink slowly as I come awake, wondering what happened. I glance down and see that I’m fully clothed and lying on my bed. I fell asleep waiting for Dylan to return.
Groggy and disoriented, I stumble out of bed and make my way to the front door. The clock on the wall shows it's past midnight. Who could be ringing the doorbell at this hour?
I see Auntie Trish at the door. Two members of the Gardaí stand on the doorstep, their faces unreadable.
“I’m really sorry to have to inform you of this, but we found Dylan Mallee’s body this evening.”
My legs buckle beneath me and I feel like I'm falling into a bottomless pit. The words echo in my head, but I can't make sense of them. Dylan's body? No, that can't be right. He just left a few hours ago. He said he wouldn't be long.
"There must be some mistake," I hear Auntie Trish saying, her voice trembling. "He's only sixteen. He was just here..."
One of the Gardaí, a woman with kind eyes, steps forward. "I'm so sorry, but there's no mistake. We found his identification on him. We need you to come to the station to make a formal identification."
The room starts to spin. This can't be happening. It can't be real. I want to scream, to tell them they're wrong, but no sound comes out. My throat feels like it's closing up.
