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His smirk soon dies as he understands my urgency to seek her out. “Sure, this is it. I’ll help ya find her. Whatcha gonna do when ya do?”
And that’s a question I don’t have an answer to.
If this were anyone else, they would pay and pay painfully slow, but with Babydoll, the thought of hurting her doesn’t get me off like it would with most. I’m fair ragin’, but after last night’s strange response to her, I don’t want to punish her with pain.
So what do I want to punish her with?
Thoughts of her tied to my bed and squirming while I make her beg come to mind. Sex for me is something carnal. It always has been. There’s never any commitment; no chance at falling in love, because I don’t want love.
I just want the pain to go away for a small fraction of time.
Running a hand through my snarled hair, I decide to take a quick shower and work out my plan of attack. Cian plays a video game while he waits for me as I limp toward the bathroom.
The simple act of showering hurts, and I wonder what excuse Dad will use at tonight’s tea for me looking like someone’s punching bag. This is another reason for me to pursue something I should have years ago. I am done being his lackey.
I’m not stupid, I know I can’t go into Dublin, guns blazing. I need a plan, and a smart one at that. Even though I’ve never met Brody Doyle, the kingpin of Dublin and the arsehole who ordered the hit on my ma, I’ve heard stories which make Da look like Father Christmas compared to him.
Uncle Sean said there wasn’t any proof, but he was certain it came from the top as nothing happens unless it goes through Brody first. I begged him to tell me more, but he said it was better to let sleeping dogs lie. But I don’t understand how.
How can they allow my ma’s death to go unpunished?
When your dad is feared in all of Northern Ireland, it’s hard to get any dirt on him, as everyone is too afraid to talk bad about him in case it comes back to bite them in the arse. So getting any information from his confidants was impossible.
I don’t know my mum’s family. I don’t even know if they exist. Growing up, all I knew was the Kelly family as my dad said that was all that mattered. I’ve grown up only knowing half of my identity. It’s time that changed.
I don’t care what Ma did, but I imagine she betrayed my dad in one way or another for him to forget she existed and not avenge her death. I’m going to get to the bottom of the Kelly family secrets and ensure those who were involved pay.
Looking down at the crucifix tattoo on my wrist, I decide to start with this first piece in the large, intricate puzzle. I need to get into my da’s office to look at the photo he took for any clues.
It’s a long shot, but when you’ve got nothing, it’s a start.
Drying off, I put on ripped jeans and a black T-shirt. I loop the silver chain around my neck before running my fingers through my wet hair. I avoid the mirror and enter my bedroom. Hannah and Ethan have taken over the PlayStation from Cian, but when they see me, they stop their game, their eyes wide.
“Hey! How are ya?” Hannah says, chewing on her bottom lip when she notices my injured face.
“Stickin’ out, wee rascal,” I reply, playing off my injuries. Hannah and I have a special relationship. I love them both the same, but there is something about Hannah.
I hate them seeing me this way because even though they’re only six, they understand that something bad happened.
Dad hasn’t raised a hand to them, and if he ever did, I would make sure it was the last thing he did. I look at Ethan, silently promising to never let Da use him the way he’s used me.
Amber pokes her head into my doorway and sighs in relief when she sees the twins. “Oh, thank God. You two are going to give me a heart attack one of these days.”
Cian instantly sits taller when he sees Amber. “Good mornin’,” he says with a smile.
Cian doesn’t lack female attention as, according to his mum, he’s a handsome devil, but he grows bored easily, a product of growing up and having it all.
We’re both looking for something…more, in every aspect of our lives. Something more that’ll help drive the demons away, and I found more last night, so much more. I crack my knuckles, just thinking of Babydoll.
Amber gasps when she notices my face. “Punky, what did he—”
But I cut her off, not wanting the twins to overhear. “The aul’ lad gone then?”
Amber wipes away a tear, before nodding.
Her kindness still shocks me sometimes. I don’t understand why she cares. And this is why I believe I’m dead inside. I don’t feel what others do. I can’t remember the last time I cried or cared. I wake, shower, run errands for my da—repeat.
I function on autopilot, waiting for some big revelation to appear. But it never does.
