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SAOIRSE
“Wake up,Saoirse. We need to go. Now.”
My mother tugs the bottom corner of my duvet, forcing a deep growl to rumble from my throat. I grip the covers tighter, unwilling to expose myself to the fluorescent light dangling from the low ceilings of our rundown, two-bed townhouse.
“I’m sleeping. Come back, never.”
“Saoirse, I don’t have time for your dramatics. We need to leave. Now.”
My lungs deflate as a frustrated breath huffs from my nostrils.
“Please, Saoirse.” She drops the empty grey duffel bag onto the foot of my bed. “Just pack the essentials. We can replace the rest.”
As I draw the duvet cover back, defiance pulls at my brow line, narrowing my amber eyes. “What’s the urgency? It’s after midnight. Can’t this impromptu move wait until the morning? Isn’t there some way to switch your flight mode off? At least until the sun rises.”
Ignoring my cranky arse, she heads for my dresser, pulling out clothes and underwear and stuffing them into the bag. “If you could rein in your attitude, that would be great.” Her stern, clipped tone catches me off-guard, making me wonder what in God's name has her so on edge. Tonight is not the first time we’ve upped and left in a hurry, but we never run in the middle of the night. And never without our belongings.
I scan her fragile frame, noting the panic haunting her every move. Then, suddenly, my careless attitude shifts to worry, dread, and fear.
“What’s going on?” I pry, although I have a feeling I already know. Whatever past my mother is scurrying from has finally caught up to us.
After averting her gaze towards the door, she avoids my question with a demand of her own. “Do as I say, Saor. We need to get going.”
“Will we return?” It’s a stupid question. I’ve occupied twenty-three houses in over twelve counties and attended eleven schools in seventeen years. But unfortunately, I was foolish enough to think this time was different, that maybe, just-fucking-maybe, we’d found a town I could call home forever.
For too long, I clung to that ludicrous pipe dream, allowing myself to settle, plant roots and make friends, believing or just plain hoping this place would be the one to stick.
I was wrong. Some things — or in this case, some people — never change. I don’t know why I thought my mother was an exception. I should have known better. When the going gets tough, Éanna Ryan gets going. I only wish she’d tell me what has her running so fast; because I’m struggling to keep up.
Deciding there is no point in fighting, I swing my legs out of bed. My feet collide with the aged wooden floorboards. The heavy thud accentuates my anger and rattles my bones. “You need to tell me why.” My eyes lock with hers, needing something,anythingto justify why I should leave my life behind.Again.
“I’m sick of this. Every few months, it’s the same old-as-time story. You get spooked and then run, taking me and the life I’ve built with you. I’m tired, Mam. Is it too much to want real lifelong friends and some stability? It’s my final year of school. Ineedroots.”
Her hands grip my shoulders, holding me steady and squeezing so tight she’s sure to leave finger marks on my flesh.
The soft orange glow bleeds through my bedroom window from the streetlights, illuminating her chestnut hair and the tired lines around her grey eyes. “I know, darling. I promise you’ll get all that and more. But right now, I need you to pack your bag. No questions asked.” Her words are breathless and airy, lined with a quiver of fear and heavy desperation. My defiance melts away as defeat fills my lungs. My shoulders sag, and I close my eyes. “Okay.”
Once again, she wants me to stuff my feelings at the bottom of my duffle, hiding them beneath whatever measly belongings I’ll bring with me. I need to believe my mam has a good reason for up-rooting me halfway through my final year of school. As soon as we get to where we’re going, she better tell me what those reasons are. After all, she promised me.
Not that her promises mean much these days.
My teeth chew the inside of my cheek as I nod, unable to fight her when she looks so terrified.
“Okay,” I echo, knowing that protesting will get me nowhere. It never does. “But once we get to wherever you’re taking me, you tell me everything. It’s time I learn why I’ve been running from a demon that’s not mine.”
Our eyes collide, and I see something I haven’t seen before — a hunger, an unquenchable need to keep me safe.
Then, Mam brushes the hair from my face with a swipe of her hands. “Do you know why I called you Saoirse?”
When I don’t respond, she continues, a small smile curled at the corners of her mouth. “Saoirse means freedom. My intention was never to lock you up. It was to give you a life where you could fly. Soon, sweetheart; soon, you will soar.”
She pulls me closer, cradling my head in the crook of her neck. “Now, please. Pack your things and meet me downstairs in ten minutes. Not a second longer.”
Right before she turns to leave, the unmistakable sound of glass shattering echoes from downstairs, freezing us both in place.
“Fuck!” Her eyes close as she captures her curse behind her clenched teeth. “They’re here.”
“Who’s here?”
