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People like me didn’t get second chances.
When she finally came to her senses and left, which I had no doubt she would, I would be completely alone.
Fuck.
My mind kept drifting back to how she looked the other night when she took me home with her.
“What are you doing?”she whispered, hovering in the bathroom doorway, as I stood with my back to her, with a rolled-up tenner pressed to my nose. “Joe?”
Snorting the crushed powder of a D2 up my nose, I clutched the basin and exhaled a heavy breath, preparing for the fight I knew was about to erupt between us.
Wordlessly she walked up behind me and wrapped her arms around my waist. “Come to bed.”
Confusion filled me. “But you just saw—"
“I know what I saw,” she whispered, kissing my back again. “Just come to bed.”
Higher than Everest, I lay on her mattress and watched as she climbed on top of me.
Her face was ingrained in my mind. I was high, in pain, and close to breaking point, but her face.
Jesus, her face was all I could see.
Her smell was all around me, her hair cloaking my face as she leaned into my lips, kissing me, doing all the work.
She was shining.
Fucking shining.
The moon was illuminating her.
Powerful.
She was so fucking powerful.
“Are you mad at me?” I slurred, feeling weak and disorientated by her calmness.
“Yes.”
“Then why aren’t you shouting at me?” I shook my head in clouded confusion. “I’ve stopped trying, Molloy. I can’t try anymore. Why aren’t you kicking me out?”
“Because you might not love yourself, but I do. I love you enough for the both of us,” she whispered, fisting my cock in her hand. “And if keeping you here with me means that you’re off the streets and safe, then that’s what I’m going to do.”
And as she lowered herself down on me, the reality of what I'd done to this girl hit me like a fucking wrecking ball.
I was a fucking mess.
Almost as much as the prick who was standing in front of me when I came downstairs on Thursday, freshly showered and ready to meet up with Molloy for my birthday.
Nah, I thought to myself, as I watched him clamp a beefy hand around my mother’s arm and press her against the fridge,I would never be as big of a mess as him.
I could see them arguing from the kitchen doorway, but unlike every other time I saw him manhandle her, I just didn’t seem to have the fight in me to take him on.
Or I just didn’t have the strength,I thought dejectedly, as I forced myself to dig deep, and do my duty. I had to protect the woman who bore me from the man who was responsible for fifty percent of my genetic makeup.
“Back off,” I warned, stepping in between them, and forcing him to release her arm.
Mam had the cop on to bolt to the other side of the kitchen, but even more shockingly, Dad didn’t throw a punch.
