Keeping 13 Read online

  Pain churned inside of me for all he'd been through. "Are you okay?"

  He blinked at me, looking a little startled by my question. "Me?"

  I nodded.

  "I'm okay." He blew out a harsh breath. "I'm just worried."

  "Me too," I squeezed out.

  "I don't want you to go into care," he added, voice torn. "Aside from all my own issues, it's not a good place for any of you. You're doing well at Tommen. If they take you, you'll be moved to a new school and have to start all over again."

  My heart seized with dread. "I want to stay at Tommen," I strangled out.

  "I know," he agreed. "And I'm going to make sure you do. I'll cover the fees. I'll do whatever it takes, but I need you to support me on this."

  "Joey won't." My hands shook as I spoke. "He won't live under the same roof as her, Darren. You don't know what it's been like for him."

  "Joey's irrelevant in this," Darren muttered, pinching his temples. "He's over eighteen."

  "That doesn’t make him irrelevant," I snapped, glaring at my oldest brother. "He's the most relevant thing in our lives, Darren."

  He sighed heavily. "I know, I know. I didn't mean it to come out like that –"

  "Did you know that Sean called Joey 'Da-Da' until he was two?" I interrupted sharply. My eyes were wide and full of unshed tears, my hands balled into fists and shaking at my sides. "Sean actually thought his brother was his daddy. I suppose it would be an easy mistake to make, you know, considering Joey sat up most nights doing his night feeds and changing his nappies when Mam was working nights or drowning in her depression. So, go ahead and tell Sean how irrelevant Joey is. Or better still, tell Ollie and Tadhg that every time Joey slept outside their bedroom door, for fear our father would go after them, was irrelevant. Tell them about how all the beatings Joey took for them were irrelevant. Tell me how irrelevant the brother who fed us when we were starving, stuck up for us when we had no one, gave us money when we needed it for school –" my voice cracked and I dragged in several deep breaths before I could continue, "Tell me how irrelevant he is, Darren," I strangled out, feeling the burning protest of my lungs from the sudden exertion. "Go right ahead and do it!"

  "You know I didn’t mean it like that," he sighed. "Of course he's not irrelevant. That was a shitty thing for me to say."

  "Yeah," I strangled out, chest heaving. "It was."

  "What I was trying to say is that Joey's over eighteen. Legally, he's an adult and the social workers aren't interested in him. They're concentrating on the minor children – you, Tadhg, Ollie, and Sean. He's not on their radar."

  "Have you met Sean yet?" I heard myself ask, tone harder than I knew I was capable of. "Ollie got big, didn’t he? Tadhg, too. What age were they when you last saw them? Three and six, wasn’t it?" I knew I should stop and rein it in, but I couldn't. I was so furious that he could be so flippant with his words. It hurt to hear him call Joey irrelevant because I knew that was exactly how Joey was feeling when he stormed out earlier. "I was ten. Joey was twelve – barely older than Tadhg is now. Do you think we have changed, Darren?"

  "A lot has changed," he whispered.

  "Yeah, it has," I agreed, voice warbling. "And the mother that was so good to you, the Mam you remember, isn’t the one we experienced."

  "She's still your mother."

  "See, you keep calling her that, but I only remember having one of those."

  "Shannon –"

  "His name is Joey," I choked out, fisting the sheets. "The irrelevant one. He's been our mother, Darren, when our real one checked out." Tears pooled down my cheeks as I spoke, forcing myself to get it out and for him to hear it, "When you left, something died inside of her. She wasn't the same. Everything went dark. You think you know, but you don't. You can't know because you didn't see…"

  "I've seen enough, Shannon," he replied wearily. "Believe me."

  "Whatever you saw, it was during a time when she was present," I bit out. I wasn't saying any of this to hurt him. I just needed him to get it. "She hasn't been present in a very long time."

  "Look, I'm not going to force your hand here," he finally replied. "Whatever you want to do is your choice."

  But…

  "But this isn’t just about you," he filled in. "Tadhg, Ollie, and Sean's futures are at stake here, too."

  So, you have no choice…

  "Mam is trying, Shan," he coaxed. "She's willing to do whatever it takes to make this work."

  You're trapped…

  "She just needs some guidance," he whispered. "So, if you just trust me and follow my lead on this, I promise you that I can give you guys a better life. You won't have to worry about him coming back because I won't let that happen ever again. And once the Gards get your statement and this goes to court, you'll never have to worry about –"

  "Wh-what? I'm not going to court," I strangled out, hurrying to get there first. "I'm not going against him, Darren." I shook my head, body shaking violently. "No way."

  "Shannon, he can't hurt you anymore," Darren urged. "I swear, this will be –"

  "You just told me that he wasn’t arrested for this," I bit out. "That means he's out there." I bit back the urge to scream and gripped the mattress. "This is bad, Darren. You don’t get it, but I do. I see. This will all go away, she'll take him back, and then he'll make me pay for getting him into t-trouble." Sniffling, I reached up and roughly wiped away the tears from my cheeks. "Joey's right; there's no justice for people like us. He'll get a slap on the wrist – and that's if we're really lucky. No, I'm not saying anything about him."

  "He has to pay, Shannon."

  "Easy for you to say," I shot back, trembling. "When you're not the price."

  "What?" Darren frowned. "Shannon, that makes no sense."

  "Whatever, Darren, you wouldn’t understand," I sniffled. "He loved you best."

  Darren balked like he couldn’t believe the words that had just come out of my mouth. "You couldn't be more wrong," he strangled out. "You're so fucking wrong, Shannon."

  "You got words," I hissed defensively. "Cruel words, horrible words, things that never should have been said to you, and I am so sorry for that, but you didn’t get what we got –" I had to stop and take a few steadying breaths before I could finish, "However bad you think it was when you lived at home, however many slaps you think you took, I promise that it got a million times worse after you left. I promise you that Joey and I took more."

  "And neither of you got what I got," he snarled, losing his cool with me. "You got a nice little family for six months. You got ice-creams and fucking hugs. You didn't get what I got, Shannon, and be very fucking glad about that!"

  I flinched from his words.

  Darren dropped his head in hands. "I'm sorry."

  "Yeah," I whispered. "Me, too."

  6

  I'm Not A Liar

  Johnny

  I had been lured into a false sense of security yesterday by the very people that had brought me into this world with promises of action. However, the minute I was helped back into my bed and the nurse was called, it became pretty clear to me that I had been duped. It became even clearer when I was told that a good night's sleep in my own bed would clear my crazy thoughts.

  Fuckers.

  Sleep didn’t ease a damn thing in my mind. When I woke up this morning, it was to thoughts of Shannon and a rage so hot in my stomach that I was sure I would develop an ulcer.

  My body was restless, my mind shot to hell, the entire drive home from Dublin. When we finally crossed the border and re-entered Cork, I swear, I had never been happier to return to the rebel country, which was beyond ironic considering I'd spent the last seven years plotting and scheming to get out of this place.

  But things were different now.

  I was different.

  I had people to see and shit to attend to.

  My first priority being Shannon.

  In the past twenty-four hours, I had called the local Garda Station in Ballylaggin more t
imes than I could count. After the seventh or eighth phone call with zero information being sent my way, relations had broken down between myself and Garda Daly, who had warned me that I was 'skating on thin ice' and to 'call one more time if I wanted to spend the night in the barracks'.

  I had plenty I wanted to say right back to him but my parents had confiscated both mine and Gibsie's phones before I could cause any more damage.

  Nobody was telling me a damn thing and that was the problem. All they had to say was 'we checked on her and she's fine'. That's it. That's all I wanted to hear and I would have been appeased. Instead, I received the standard, 'we're looking into it,' and 'I'm afraid we're not at liberty to discuss this with you' over and over again.

  It was complete bullshit.

  "This is bullshit," I verbalized my feelings aloud when my father pulled the Mercedes up outside our house and not Shannon's like I had been promised, before killing the engine. I should have known better than to trust a lawyer, especially when said lawyer dropped Gibsie home and then proceeded to take the back road to our house and not the main road to Ballylaggin town. "I need to see her."

  "No," Mam answered for him as she turned in the passenger seat to give me a stern look. "You need to lie down and rest. Doctor's orders."

  Resisting the urge to roar, I gripped the leather interior beneath me and hissed, "I'm fine."

  "And we want you to stay that way," Mam agreed, "which is why you're heading straight to bed."

  "You're not listening to me." Scrubbing my face with my hands, I shook my head and looked out the window at the rain hammering down outside. "Why is nobody fucking listening to me?"

  "Because you've been under the world of stress, Johnny," Dad explained calmly. "Not to mention the world of medication."

  "Exactly." Smiling sympathetically at me, Mam added, "You've had a terrible setback with the rugby, love. It's okay if you're not feeling yourself right now."

  "I know what I'm saying," I shot back, furious. "I know he's hurting her."

  Mam groaned loudly and Dad turned in his seat, leveling me with a hard look. "Johnny, you're throwing a lot of accusations around and you need to settle down before you get yourself into trouble."

  "They're not accusations when there's proof," I spat, glaring back at him. "I have proof."

  My father rolled his eyes – literally fucking rolled his eyes at me. "Friday night, you were so delirious that you were convinced Pat Kenny was in the room with you. Saturday night, it was the Russian from the Rocky film."

  "Sunday night, you accused the nurses of trying to poison you," Mam offered with a grimace.

  "Now, it's Shannon's father?" Dad finished and expelled a frustrated breath. "What are we supposed to believe?"

  "You're supposed to believe me," I growled. "Because I'm telling the bleeding truth, Da."

  Dad arched a disbelieving brow.

  I threw my hands up, exasperated. "Obviously, I was wrong about Pat Kenny and the Russian – although the nurse's trying to poison me is still up for debate." I shook my head, forcing myself to stay on track. "But I'm clearheaded now, and I'm telling you that I’m right about this – I'm right about him."

  "Fine." Dad nodded stiffly. "You say you have proof. Show it to me."

  "Oh, yeah," I sneered. "Let me just go pull Shannon's body out of the boot for ya."

  "Less of the attitude, Jonathon," Mam warned. "We're trying to help you."

  "And who's helping Shannon?" I demanded, voice cracking. "Who's helping her?"

  "Johnny –"

  "I'm telling you both that if you don’t take me over there, I'll find my own way."

  "You're not –"

  "I'm not a child," I roared, unbuckling my seatbelt and pushing open the car door. "I'm almost eighteen, dammit! So don’t push me into a corner and expect me not to push back." Grabbing my crutches, I clumsily maneuvered out of the car. "You may be unsure, but I know," I insisted. "I fucking know! And if you won't help me, I'll sort this myself."

  "Where are you going?" they both demanded in unison as they filed out of the car after me.

  Ignoring them both, I leaned heavily on my crutches and wrestled with my pocket for my phone. Yanking it out, I unlocked the screen and dialed Gibsie's number.

  "Don’t even think about it," Mam warned. "You're not going anywhere –"

  "I need you to come and get me," I said the second Gibsie answered, not giving him a chance to greet me. "Please?"

  "Say no more," was his automatic response. "I'm already on the way."

  "Thanks, lad." Ending the call, I gripped my phone with more force than necessary and stared right back at my parents who were gaping at me in disbelief. I knew why. This wasn’t me. I didn’t act like this. I didn’t speak to my parents like I just had. "I'm not a liar," I told them. "Never have been, never will be." Trembling, I added, "I know what I've seen – what I've heard. I'm right about this and you're making a very dangerous mistake by not listening to me."

  "We don’t think you're a liar, Johnny," Mam sobbed. "But we are worried about you."

  "And I'm worried about her," I tossed back, voice thick with emotion. Rain was hammering down on all of us, but I wasn’t moving. I couldn’t. "I'm terrified for her."

  "Fine, I'll make you an offer," Dad said, clearing his throat. "Go inside and lie down, and I'll make some calls and see what I can find out."

  I slumped in relief. "Really?"

  My father nodded and pushed his damp hair out of his eyes. "If you're that concerned, I'll drive down to the station myself and make some inquiries."

  "You're not fucking with me?" I asked, mirroring his actions. "You'll check on her?"

  Dad nodded stiffly. "But I sincerely hope you're wrong, son."

  "Yeah," I croaked out, feeling my mother's arm come around my waist. "Me, too –"

  The sound of my phone ringing caused me to pause mid-sentence. Glancing down at my phone, I read Joey the Hurler flash across the screen and my blood began to boil.

  "Where the fuck have you been?" I demanded the minute I accepted his call. "I've been calling you non-stop for days, Joey. Jesus Christ!"

  "Yeah, I know," he replied in what sounded like a hushed tone. "It's been a complicated few days here."

  "Complicated?" I balked and almost smashed my phone. "Yeah, see that word doesn’t work for me," I snarled. "Complicated doesn’t explain or excuse the marks on your sister's body." Staggering towards the car, I ignored the horrified looks etched on my parents' faces and continued to rant, "Complicated doesn’t explain why she constantly flinches and cowers away from confrontation at school. And complicated doesn’t fucking explain why, when I asked her who was beating the shit out of her, she said your father!"

  "Johnny –"

  "You told me to tell your sister that there was a family emergency that day you left her at my house," I continued, interrupting him, unable to restrain myself as my rage consumed me. "Do you remember that? You told me to tell Shannon that her father was back. And do you know what happened, Joey? Do you know she did –" I had to inhale several calming breaths before continuing, "She broke down and cried. She shook so fucking bad I didn’t know what to do to make it better! I couldn't make it better! Because you lied to me. I asked you straight to your face who was hurting her and you lied to me!"

  "I didn't lie," was his clipped response, and it only infuriated me further.

  "You didn't tell me the truth," I snarled, furious. "I was standing right there, asking you, fucking begging you to just tell me what was happening to her and you didn't!"

  "I couldn't –"

  "You asked me to look after her, and then you took her away from me! You took her back to him," I roared, chest heaving.

  "Because I had no choice," he hissed. "You have no idea what I've been dealing with."

  "That's a cop-out answer," I spat, running a hand through my hair. "Everyone has a choice."

  "And every fucker has an answer for every other fucker's problem – until it's their own
fucking problem and then they're fucked," Joey sneered. "You think you know, but you have no idea."

  "This has been going on for years, hasn't it?" I demanded. "And you all just…buried it."

  "It wasn't an everyday thing," he snarled down the line. "Our old man has a drinking problem. I'm usually there to prevent shit going down. I try! I fucking try, okay? But I wasn’t on Saturday. I had training. I didn't know – I didn’t expect anything to happen. How was I supposed to know? I thought she was safe. I thought she was in Dublin with you! His bad day is Wednesday –"

  "Oh, I'm sorry," I sneered, sinking down in the backseat of the car. "I wasn’t aware that he had a beating schedule! Is it only Wednesdays he likes to knock her around? Should I pick her up on Tuesdays and drop her back on Thursdays? Would that suit him?"

  "Listen to me –"

  "Where is she now?" I demanded. "Are you with her? At your house? Is he there, too?" I knew I was going to lose my mind if he gave me the wrong answer. In my mind, there was only one answer to this fucked up question. Their father needed to not be there. He needed to be as far away from her as humanly possible. I couldn’t fucking bear the thought of it. Putting his hands on her. Looking at her. Touching her… "Is he near her?" I strangled out. "Has he touched her?"

  "Would you just stop talking and listen to–"

  "I should have trusted my gut," I spat, interrupting him again. "I knew there was something off about your family. I bleeding knew it. That night you came and picked her up? Everything inside of me was screaming to keep her with me. And instead of listening to the red flags shooting up in my head, instead of opening my goddamn eyes, I pushed it down. Because I kept thinking, no – no, this guy loves his sister. He wouldn't stand by and let anything happen to her." I had to bite my knuckles to stop myself from driving my fist through the window of my father's car. "More fool me!"

  "Fuck you, rich boy!" he strangled out. "It's easy for you to judge me. You've never seen hardship a day in your entitled life. I did everything I could for my family."