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Bleary eyed and tipsy, I stumbled out the back door of Biddies, pushing past the crowd, and kicking off my high-heels, in my rush to chase him down.
“Aoife, just leave him!” Casey called after me, but I couldn’t.
I justcouldn’t.
Running down the alleyway, I quickly cut across the street I’d last seen him, and kept running, until I turned a corner in town and my feet came to an abrupt stop.
“Joey!” I screamed, mouth hanging open. "What the hell are you doing?"
Laughing like a deranged maniac, my boyfriend stood on the bonnet of a Mercedes Benz parked just outside one of the pubs webothknew that his father drank in and rammed his fists into the windscreen.
“Joey!” I screamed, watching in horror as his recently scabbed over knuckles reopened and started bleeding.
Several of his asshole friends from the terrace were watching on and encouraging this absolute madness; clearly delighted with his outburst.
They were laughing like ruining his life was some big joke to them.
Bastards.
"Joe, stop!" I screamed, pushing my hair out of my eyes, as I raced up the street towards him. "You're going to get arrested!"
Joey laughed, clearly out of his fucking mind on whatever they'd given him, as he continued to pummel the luxury model with his bloodied knuckles.
The sound of sirens in the distance had my heart thundering in my chest.
"Ah, leave him alone, girl," one of the lads shouted out. "Give the lad a break."
"Go fuck yourself," I snapped, climbing onto the bonnet of the car, knowing full well that my ass was on full display for all of his so-calledfriendsand everyone else watching his meltdown, but not giving a damn.
"Stop!" I ordered, catching ahold of his closed fists before he could do any more damage. "Joey." His blood trickled onto my hands as I closed them over his fists and forced him to still. "Stop."
He was breathing hard, still laughing like a crazy person, as tears flowed down his cheeks.
"Stop," he mimicked my voice and then laughed harder. "Stop. Stop. Fucking stop!" His voice cracked and his expression caved. "Stop," he whispered, shaking now, pushing his bloodied hands through his rain-soaked hair. "Make itstop."
My heart cracked clean open in my chest at his words.
"Shite, lads, the shades," one of his prick friends called out, as they all ran in opposite directions. "Scatter!"
Panicked, I did the only thing I could do in this moment; I slid off the bonnet of the car, took Joey’s bloody hand in mine, and pulled him down to the ground with me.
“Molloy.” He looked at me like he was seeing me for the first time. “What are you…”
“Come on, Joe,” I coaxed, desperately trying to get through to him, as I reached for his hand. “Come with me.”
And then, with his hand firmly clamped in mine, I led him away from the scene of the crime, incriminating myself further into this world that I had no business being a part of.
Literally shaking from the adrenalin rushing through my bloodstream, I kept my hand welded to Joey’s for the entire stumbling-run back to my house, too afraid to let go out of fear of what he might do next.
“He's left a hole inside of you,” I told him, as I dragged him along after me. “It's trauma, Joey.” Releasing a pained growl when we reached my street, I found myself desperately trying to reason with the unreasonable. “You're traumatized, and you need professional help.”
“I’m fine.”
“Joey, you are about the furthest from fine a person can get.”
“Leave it alone, Molloy,” he muttered. “I don’t want to fight with you.”
“And I don’t want you to die!” I screamed, tears falling freely now, as my emotions got the better of me. There was something so tragic about this boy, something that I wanted to keep. “Don’t you care about yourself? Not even a little bit?”
