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Another punch to my face had my teeth rattling so hard in my mouth that my legs gave out once more and I collapsed on the floor, feeling a chunk of my hair rip from my scalp.
“Leave her alone,” Tadhg sobbed, throwing his arms around my body. “Please don’t hurt her.”
I heard my little brother’s scream just as he was dragged away from me.
“Dad,” I gasped, desperately trying to drag air into my lungs. “Dad, please just—”
His boot connected with my face and I lost focus. My head drooped. My eyes rolled back.
He’s going to finish you off. It’s over.
Shaking, I curled up as small as I could and clenched my eyes shut.
You’re back in that room with Johnny. He’s telling you he loves you.
You’re okay.
Kick after kick after kick.
Spluttering and wheezing, I desperately tried to cling to the image of his face. It was fading out.
My body wasn’t hurting as much. I wasn’t feeling the kicks or the blows now. I couldn’t hear the screams of my brothers.
Everything was warm. Warm and light.
You’re dying.
Just close your eyes and give in. Close your eyes, Shannon, and it’ll all be over soon…
“He’s coming!” I heard my other little brother Ollie scream as the sound of the front door slamming filled my ears. “Get off my sister!”
Using every ounce of energy left inside of my body, I forced myself to cover my head with my hands and protect myself from my father’s blows.
Stay awake.
It’s not over yet.
You are not going to die in this house.
Not today.
I could hear voices then: both Mam’s and Joey’s.
Joey. I could hear Joey. He was here.
And suddenly the pain was gone. The kicking stopped.
The feel of two pairs of hands wrapping around my body filled my senses—what was left of them—and I opened my eyes to the sight of my little brothers attempting to protect my body with theirs.
Tadhg was bleeding. At least, I thought he was. His cheek was smeared in bright-red blood.
Maybe it was my blood. I couldn’t tell anymore.
Gasping for breath, I struggled to drag air into my lungs, as my vision blurred for several beats before finally coming into focus.
My mother was standing in the middle of the kitchen.
My father had retreated several feet away from me, staring cautiously at the door.
