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“Ungrateful?” I challenge, my gaze never wavering from his. “That’s a wee bit contradictory, seein’ as ye had no issue moving on from Ma before she was even buried in the ground!”
Da grips the desk, his cheeks turning a bright red. “Ya want a clip on the lug? Is that it?”
Uncle Sean pinches the bridge of his nose, inhaling deeply. He’s always been the peacekeeper, but it seems to be getting harder for him each day because I’m not a wee cub anymore. It’s only a matter of time before my father and I end up in a fight with only one man left standing.
Da senses I’m in no mood to deal with his shite, and if he wants me to continue doing his dirty work, then he has to show me some respect.
He inhales, as if leveling himself. “Show me what ya nicked from the Ryans.”
I’ve won this war—for now.
Opening my backpack, I slide the Bible across the desk toward my da. His nostrils flare when he sees the Catholic abomination in his house. I hoke through my pocket for the rosary beads but come up empty. I quickly check my other pocket, revealing the same outcome—they’re gone, as is my ma’s brooch.
Coming to a stand, I pat myself down, not understanding where they could be. I know I put the rosary in my pocket. So where are they?
As I retrace my steps, a realization slams into me, and I curse myself for being such an eejit. I know the rosary and my mum’s brooch were in my pocket. I know they didn’t fall out. So that means, I also know the reason they’re not here is because Babydoll stole them from right under my nose.
She staged the entire incident of accidentally falling off her bike so she could steal from me. I can’t even…
Dad senses something is wrong and comes to a stand. “Ya spoofin’, ye wee want? Or you just plain stupid?”
“I lost them,” I reply, aware of what’s coming. “But I’ll get them back.”
“Wha? You had one job. One fucking job! Yer fucking thick.”
Before I can fight him off, Da rounds his desk and punches me in the face.
I stagger back, shook. No matter how many times he hits me, it always feels like the first time. But I accept his blows because better I suffer than he takes his temper out on the twins.
“Aye, for fuck’s sake!” Uncle Sean exclaims, standing quickly and getting out of harm’s way. He knows better than to intervene, but he tries, nonetheless. “That’s enough, Connor. Y’ll kill him.”
I cup my bleeding nose. It’s not broken—yet.
“I fucked up, so I did. I’m sorry,” I exclaim, ragin’ at myself for allowing this to happen.
But Dad doesn’t want to hear apologies. He views apologies as weaknesses, and no son of his is meant to be weak.
He punches me again, connecting with my jaw, but still, I don’t surrender. I stand tall, accepting this beating because I deserve it. I couldn’t care less about the rosary beads, but my ma’s brooch? How could I have been so careless?
I let my guard down for a pretty face. Never again.
Dad hits me in the stomach, knocking the wind from my lungs. I drop to my knees, and when he knees under my chin, I collapse onto my back.
“Is that the best ya got, aul’ lad?” I provoke, a pained wheeze leaving me as he stomps on my knee.
“Ya fucking smart-arse!” He doesn’t stop his assault. He kicks my ribs, my stomach, screaming that I’m worthless and should have died with my ma.
I accept his slurs and punches because he’s right, but instead of Mum dying, it should have been me. But her death will not be in vain. Every Doyle is going to pay for what they did. My dad isn’t with me, so all I’ve got is me, which is no different to how I’ve lived my entire life.
I’ve waited long enough. The Doyles incited a war—it’s time the Kellys finally answered back.
But first, there’s a wee doll I need to find.
