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“Well, shit,” I mused, reluctantly smiling at the sight of my baby sister tucked under the arm of the rising star of Irish rugby. “Maybe he has notions.”
“You think this is funny?” Dad snarled, ripping the newspaper from my hands and tearing the page in half. “Your sister’s a fucking whore, and all you can do is smile about it?”
“Clearly, our definitions of the word ‘whore’ are very different.”
“That doll you’re fucking around with is another one,” he told me. “Little blond whore, prancing around my house with her tits and legs and hole on full show. She’s looking for it, that one. I’m telling ya, boy, she’s looking for a good seeing to—”
His words broke off when I leveled him with a fist to the face. “You keep your goddamn eyes off her!”
“Eyes?” He threw his head back and laughed. “I’ll put more than my eyes on her the next time I see her.”
And that was all it took to unravel months of hard work and preservation. Losing my absolute shit there and then, I ploughed into my father, both throwing and receiving punches, as we crashed into the kitchen table, knocking chairs over as we brawled.
“Was she a virgin before ya broke her in, boy?” he continued to torment me by saying. “Did she bleed all over ya? What am I saying?” He laughed cruelly. “There’s nothing between your legs to break her in with.”
“I will kill you,” I roared, straining against the beefy hand he had wrapped around my throat as he pummeled his fist into my face. “If you so much as think about putting a hand on her—” Breaking free of his hold, I threw my entire weight at him, propelling us both forward until his legs gave way beneath him and we crashed to the floor. “If you look at my girlfriend again,” I roared, fists flying with a flourish. “If you fucking breathe too close to her, they’ll have to take you out of this house in a body bag!”
“Joey!” Mam’s voice filled my ears, and I looked up to find her standing in the kitchen doorway, cradling her round stomach and looking at me like I was the monster in our story. “Get off your father.”
The clever bastard beneath me let his hands fall to his sides, feigning innocence as he groaned in pain. “He’s killing me, Marie.”
“Get off your father,” Mam repeated, tone hardening as she staggered into the kitchen. “And get out of my sight before I say something we’ll both regret.”
Disgusted, I released my hold on his shirt and climbed to my feet. With blood smeared on my knuckles, I pointed a finger at her and spat out, “You’re a fool if you think you’re not next,” before stalking out of the kitchen.
Taking the staircase two steps at a time, I grabbed a wad of toilet paper from the bathroom before storming into my room, slamming the door shut behind me. Stripping down to my jocks, because that man’s hands had touched my clothes, I sank onto the edge of my bed. Resting my elbows on my thighs, I sagged forward, and pressed the tissue to my mouth.
If I could have peeled the skin from my bones in this moment, I would have. I didn’t want his hands anywhere near my body. I couldn’t fucking bear it.
“Joe?” My bedroom door opened inward, and I saw my sister standing in the doorway. “You okay?”
“I’m grand, Shan,” I bit out, wiping the blood from my mouth. “You should go to bed.”
“You’re bleeding.”
No shit.
“It’s just a busted lip.” Impatient, and just about done with the whole fucking lot of them, I grumbled, “Go back to your room.”
She didn’t move.
Instead, she continued to hover in the doorway until I relented and patted the mattress beside me, giving her what she needed.
“I’m sorry,” she strangled out, hurrying toward me. “So sorry,” she continued to cry as her small arms came around my shoulders, putting more weight on me than I could handle.
It felt like my life was on a constant loop of reruns, repeating the same scene, the same pain, day after day, year after year, until it broke me. Still, I went through the motions of comforting my little sister and assuring her that it wasn’t her fault, which was true.
Tonight wasn’t on Shannon.
None of the previous nights of our past were on Shannon.
It was all on them.
All of it.
After reassuring her a couple of hundred times, I gave up on any hope of having some alone time. The tremors rolling through her assured me that she wasn’t leaving my room.
Fuck my life.
