Redeeming 6: Boys of Tommen #4

JOEY

BY THE TIME I reached the end of my road, the squad car was pulling away from my house. Knowing that the Gards in this town didn’t need much of a reason to throw me in the cells these days, I slipped into a side alley until they drove past.

When they were gone, I flicked the butt of my cigarette behind me, and jogged up the footpath to my house, needing another arrest under my belt like I needed a hole in the head.

Because that’s what would happen.

It didn’t matter what Trish Molloy told the Gards.

My father wouldn’t be punished for a damn thing.

He never was.

The blame would fall at my feet.

Same as always.

When I walked through the front door a few minutes later, I was greeted by my father’s fist as it connected with my jaw.

“Jesus.” Unprepared and taken aback by the unsuspected assault, I stumbled backwards and landed on my ass in the hallway, feeling a lightning bolt of pain ripple through my face. “Christ.”

“You dumb cunt,” he sneered, towering above me. “Running your mouth to those people. Telling them our private business. Running to your girlfriend’s mammy with sob stories. What did ya think was going to happen?”

I wanted to get up and fight back, I really fucking did, but the pain shooting out of my cheekbone was so severe, it made my stomach heave.

Twisting onto my hands and knees, I hurled my guts up on the floor, unable to mask my agony, as fire burned through my face. “Fuck…you.”

His boot connected with my stomach next, taking the wind clean out of my lungs. “If you don’t want to be under my roof, boy, you know where the door is. Nobody’s stopping ya from leaving if ya don’t want to be here.”

“Teddy, no.” That was Mam. I could hear her pleading with him to stop kicking me. He didn’t stop. Not until he had a good half a dozen more kicks in. “Please, stop. He’s only a boy.”

“Pack his fucking bags, Marie,” my father commanded, while I lay in a heap on the floor, trying to breathe through the pain. “I want this little prick out!”

I knew that I needed to get back up, but I just didn’t have anything left in the tank.

Still, that fire of prideful self-sabotage continued to burn bright inside of me, demanding that I get back up on my feet and not lie down to this man until my heart gave out.

“You think you’re ready to be a father?” he roared, and I could hear him unbuckling his belt. It was a sound that I was all too familiar with. “Right you are, ya little bollox. Lesson number one on being a father? Knowing when to put your little bastards back in line.“

A pained grunt escaped me when the whip of leather came down on my back.

“Teddy, no!”

The belt came down on my back again.

Harder this time.

“Please, Teddy, don’t!”

Shuddering violently, I bit down so hard on my lip that I could taste blood, but I refused to cry out or beg this man for anything.

“Joey!” That was Tadhg.

I could hear him crying somewhere nearby.

Another crack of the belt sliced through my skin and a mouthful of vomit spluttered out through my teeth.

“Get up those stairs to bed or you’ll be next!”

The metal buckle sank into to my flesh and I choked back a cry. Shaking violently, I twisted onto my side, and covered my head with my hands.

“Daddy, no, don’t hurt him!” Ollie’s voice infiltrated my ears.

“I’m…f-f-fine,” I tried to tell them, nostrils flaring, as I forced myself to breathe through the pain. “Go t-to b-bed.”

I couldn’t tell you how many times he swung that belt down on my body, but I must have passed out from the pain, because when I finally came to, everything was quiet, and my father was gone.

Numb to the bone, I remained exactly where I was, too fucking broken to lift a finger, while I took stock of the night’s events.

Finally, when I couldn’t take the cold creeping into my bones a second longer, I forced myself to sit up, hissing out a sharp breath when my back burned in protest.

“Joey.” Falling off the bottom step of the stairs where she had been sitting, Mam crawled towards me. “Oh, Joey.”

Too weary to fend her off, I let her cup my face in her small hands and pepper kisses to my cheek, while using her sleeve to clean my face. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry. He’s gone out. He left.”

“Can I have a cigarette?”

Her brows furrowed as her eyes continued to spill giant teardrops. “A cigarette?”

I nodded slowly. “I’m out.”

Pain filled her eyes and she shook her head before choking out a sob and nodding. “I’ll get you a cigarette.”

“Thanks.”

Scrambling to her feet, she hurried into the kitchen, returning a moment later with a packet of twenty Rothmans and a lighter.

Trembling, she slowly withdrew a cigarette from the packet and put it to my lips before igniting a small flame on her lighter.

I leaned towards the flame and sparked up before sucking in a deep drag.

“Are you okay?”

I shook my head.

“Is anything broken?”

Probably. I inhaled another deep drag before asking, “Where are the boys?”

“In bed.” Her hands were on my shoulders now, moving over my skin, as she checked the damage.

“Where’s Shan?”

“Bed. She has headphones on.”

“Thank fuck.”

When she raised the hem of my school shirt, she choked out a pained sob. “We need to get you cleaned up. Can you stand up for me?”

With slow, calculated, rigid movements, I forced myself to get back on my feet and follow her into the kitchen.

“Take your shirt off,” she instructed, moving for the kettle. “I need to wash those cuts before they get infected.”

Jesus.

I didn’t even want to see what my back looked like.

Balancing my cigarette between my lips, I fumbled with the buttons of my shirt before gingerly sliding it off my shoulders, grimacing when my eyes took in the streaks of blood splattered on the fabric. “Is it bad?”

Mam sucked in another sharp breath.

Yeah, it’s bad.

“Here,” she said, handing me a bag of frozen veg wrapped in a tea-towel. “Press that to your cheek. It’ll help with the swelling.”

“I’m going to need a new shirt for school,” I muttered, reaching for my smoke. “Fucker ruined this one.”

“There’s a spare shirt in the hot-press.” Her hands were on my back then, pressing a wet cloth over my burning flesh. “Just stay still and let me clean this.”

“Am I still bleeding?”

“A bit.”

“Do I need stitches?”

“I don’t think so. Not this time.”

Shaking my head, I took another drag of my cigarette, while my mother cleaned me up. “If he wants me out, I’ll go.”

“I don’t want you out.”

“But I’m not leaving Shan or the boys here,” I continued, ignoring her words. “If I go, they go with me.”

“Joey.”

“I mean it.”

“Nobody’s going anywhere.”

That was the problem. “I know you agree with him.”

“Agree with him about what?”

“About Aoife.”

Her hands stilled on my back. “I don’t want this life for you.”

“Yeah, and I don’t want this life for you.”

Mam sighed wearily. “Joey.”

“I’m going to stand by her, Mam. She’s my girlfriend, and believe it or not, I happen to love her a lot.” Repressing a shudder when her fingers probed a particularly tender park of my back, I bit out, “I’ll stand by her and I’ll do a hell of a lot better job than he did with you.”

“Aren’t you frightened?”

I’m terrified.

“I’m frightened for you,” she said when I didn’t answer. “I wish it wasn’t happening.”

“Well, it is.”

“I wish you both would reconsider getting a—”

“Stop,” I cut her off and warned. “That’s not what Aoife wants.”

“And what about what you want, Joey?”

“I want her to be okay.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Yeah, well.” I shrugged and tossed the bag of frozen veg on the counter, before turning to face her, grimacing when my eyes landed on the blood-stained towel in her hands. “It’s all I have.”

“I need you to keep your head down for a few days,” she whispered then, eyes full of guilt. “Just stay out of his way until he calms down. Don’t tell the boys about Aoife. Don’t tell Shannon. Just… just give me some time to work on your father, okay?”

“Are you serious?”

“Joey, it’s complicated.”

This time when she reached for me, I took a step backwards. “It’s always going to be him. You’re always going to choose him.”

“I’m not choosing him. I’m trying to keep my family together.” She took another step towards me and I took three more away from her. “Joey, please.”

“Got anything for the pain?” I asked, unwilling to continue a conversation that would end with me being blamed for everything. “My face is killing me.”

“There’s paracetamol in the cupboard.”

“Mam.”

“No, Joey.”

“I’m asking ya to help me,” I bit out, feeling the desperate hunger for relief steadily clawing its way up my throat. “Please, Mam.”

“Joey.”

“Please,” I ground out. “I’m in pain.”

“I told you that I have paracetamol in the cupboard.”

“Please,” I choked out, resisting the urge to scream fuck your paracetamol. “Just this once and I’ll never ask again.”

“Joey.”

“I’ll beg if I have to.”

“Don’t beg.”

“Please, Mam. Fucking please.”

“Fine.” Tears filled her eyes. “Just this once.”

“What do you have?”

She sniffled before whispering, “Clonazepam.”

Thank fuck. I sagged in relief. “Where?”

Her face contorted in pain and she whimpered, “My handbag,” before walking over to the table and retrieving her bag that was hanging off the back of her chair. “You can have one and that’s it.”

“I need more than one, Mam,” I replied, trailing after her. “Please. One won’t do shit for me.”

“These are very strong.” Sniffling, she unscrewed the cap on her prescription bottle and tipped two C2’s into my outstretched hand. “Don’t ever ask me to do this again.”

“I won’t,” I replied, even though we both knew it was a lie.