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I’m not sure I want her to.
23
SUMMER
“Shit,” Ciarán mutters when he collapses onto the plush couch. The tension is a suffocating force that threatens to choke us while the danger lurking outside seems to be closing in.
“Fuck me,” Cathal pants, wiping sweat from his brow. “This is getting ridiculous. These battles are becoming a real problem.” His words hang heavy, a stark reminder of how fragile my life has become.
“Everything okay?” I ask, even though it is trite and pretty much rhetorical.
“Yeah, fine. Are you okay, Tinks?” Ciarán asks, concern lacing his voice. The worry in his eyes is genuine, and it tugs at something deep inside me.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I reply, managing a weak smile, but he knows me too well and knows something is going on with me.
“You sure?”
Nodding, I flick my gaze to Cathal. He is fuming. He has a sharp temper that scares me, but I know he would never turn it on me.
“Damn it,” Cathal curses, running a hand through his dark hair. “These assholes have to start learning that this is not negotiable.” He pounds his fist against the armrest, frustration etched across his features.
“Agreed,” Ciarán says. “I think it’s time we hit the streets ourselves to shake the trees. I’ve become too complacent and wrapped up in...other things.”
He doesn’t need to say the other things is me. I know and I know that I’m taking up too much of their collective time. They have bigger issues than worrying about and screwing me all the time. Wincing as my pussy protests against more screwing right now, I press my lips together. Yesterday was brutal. My back still hurts from the fresh cuts, but I don’t know which aches more. The thing is, though, I fucking loved the way they treated me. It was dirty, depraved and degrading. But it made me feel like a fucking goddess.
“Tonight we’ll collect the loan in person,” Ciarán continues when I avoid looking at him and stare out of the window instead.
I’m trying to find the right time to tell him about my parents, but it just never seems to be right. One day. Maybe.
“Yeah, too fucking, right,” Cathal grits out. “I’m itching for someone to fuck us over.”
“All right, calm the fuck down. We don’t react unless we have to, but our faces need to be seen on the street, doing the dirty work. We’re losing respect and I won’t fucking tolerate that.”
“My parents are alive,” I blurt out and cringe at the suddenness and bad timing.
“What?” Ciarán asks, frowning as he turns his full attention to me.
Slowly facing him, I fold my arms defensively. “My parents aren’t dead. They are alive somewhere.”
“How do you know that?”
“A little bird told me. Is that how you say it?”
He smirks. “You don’t want to say, okay, I hear you. But are you in danger?”
“Fuck knows. They’re myparents. Although, they did leave me with that narcissistic gaslighting cunt to raise me, so maybe.”
My mood has dropped into blackness. Since leaving Margaret’s home two hundred miles away and not looking back, I’ve been content, never falling too far into the depression that plagued me while I was under her ‘care’. But lately, I feel the darkness swarming around me, but this time it’s demanding action. I know it’s because of the world I’ve been thrust into, but it doesn’t scare me. What scares me is that I’m not scared.
“What do you want to do about it?” Cathal asks.
“Good question. I think first and foremost, seeing as I have no idea where they are, I want to confront Margaret.”
“Road trip?”
“Nope. I don’t want to see her or be anywhere near her. I’m doing this the coward’s way: over the phone.”
Ciarán rises immediately. “Tinks, you are not a coward. I don’t think anyone could accuse you of that. You have your reasons for not wanting to see her and they’re valid. She is rancid fucking cunt, and I would off her if you asked me to.”
