Redeeming 6: Boys of Tommen #4

JOEY

“JOE?”

I could feel her hands on my face.

“Joey, baby?”

Her smell was all around me.

“Breathe, baby.”

Her hands were on my face.

“Just breathe.”

I couldn’t feel my body.

I couldn’t feel anything.

I knew I was trying to sit up. I could feel my legs kicking the blankets away from my waist, but my head wasn’t complying.

My brain wasn’t working.

Everything was fucking broken.

“Molloy.” My voice was slurred. My lips brushed her neck as I spoke. “Where is she?”

“She’s okay.” She pulled me in tighter, wrapping me up in a tight cocoon of heat and warmth. “Shannon’s okay, Joe. She’s out of surgery and everything went great. The boys are fine, too. It’s all good, baby.”

Slumping forward, I let myself lean against my girlfriend, knowing that I needed to not put my weight on her, but unable to stop myself.

“The baby…”

“The baby’s fine.” Her lips were on my forehead. “We’re both fine.”

She was the only thing that felt real in this moment.

She was here and she was real.

I could smell her, touch her, feel her.

Just her.

“What time is it?”

“It’s about half past six.”

“What day is it?”

“It’s Sunday morning, Joe.”

“My head,” I groaned, burying my face in her neck when pain spliced through me. “My eyes.”

“Shh, it’s okay. Don’t try to stand up.” I felt her lips on my temple and then her hand was on the back of my head, fingers gently stroking my scalp. “Just stay on the trolley. I’ve got you, Joe.”

The trolley?

I couldn’t remember getting onto a trolley to begin with.

“Where am I?”

“You’re in your own private cubicle in the A&E.” Another kiss found my temple. “You’ve been in and out for a while now.”

“I have?”

“Uh-huh. You’ve had a lot of tests done. A CT scan, some x-rays, and an MRI.” Her breath hitched and I could hear the cry she was trying to bury. “But you’re going to be fine, okay? I won’t let anything else happen to you.”

“Don’t cry, Molloy.” Nuzzling her neck, I tried to raise my hands to her face to comfort her, but they felt so fucking heavy that I only managed to hook them loosely around her waist. “You know it kills me when you cry.”

“I’m not crying.” Sniffling, she pressed another kiss to my head before cradling my face to her chest. “It’s all good, Joe.”

“Shannon?”

“She’s fine,” Molloy was quick to soothe. “I already told you, remember?”

Nah.

I didn’t remember shit.

“I love you,” I slurred. “That’s all I remember.”

“I love you, too,” she replied, voice thick with emotion. “More than you’ll ever know.”

“Fuck, my eyes,” I groaned, wincing when the brightness around me became too much. “Where’s Seany?”

“He’s at home with Nanny Murphy.” Another kiss. “So are Ollie and Tadhg. They are all fine.”

“Tadhg was, ah…” Shaking my head, I gripped at her waist, needing to hold onto her in this moment because my body felt like it was falling apart. “He had a knife.”

“He’s not hurt, Joe,” she whispered. “Shh, baby. Don’t say anything else, okay? Just wait until you feel better. We’ll talk about it then, okay?”

Nodding weakly, I groaned when the pressure in my head grew to epic proportions. “Am I wearing pants?”

“No, baby, you’re not. You’re wearing your boxers and a hospital gown. They had to take off your clothes for the MRI.”

“Aw fuck.”

“Why?”

“I’ve a nodge of hash in my jeans,” I mumbled drowsily. “I could really use a smoke.”

“Oh, Joe.” A broken laugh escaped her. “Trust you to think about getting high in your condition.”

“Can I come in?” a strange voice asked and suddenly we were bathed in an abnormal amount of light as the sound of a curtain moving filled my ears. “Are you next of kin?”

“Yeah, I am.”

“Is his mother or a guardian around?”

“No. It’s just me.”

“I can come back when his mother—”

“He’s over eighteen,” I heard her say. “I’m down on his paperwork as next of kin. He’s my baby’s father. We’re a family.” Cupping my face between her hands, she lifted my face to hers. “Can you see me, Joe?”

Wincing from the pain the bright lights were causing me, I forced myself to focus on the only face I’d been able to see since I was twelve. “Molloy?”

“The doctor’s here, Joe.” She smiled and my vision blurred in and out before settling on her green eyes. “We’re going to talk to the doctor, okay?”

“Okay.” I forced myself to nod and then winced in pain. “Whatever you say, queen.”

“His MRI results show three separate linear fractures to the skull,” the voice was telling her. “He has a nasal fracture, an orbital fracture, and hairline fracture to his left zygomatic bone.”

“Zig-o-what-ic?” I heard Molloy croak out. “In plain English please, doctor.”

“Aside from three hairline fractures on Joseph’s skull, he also has a broken cheekbone, a broken nose, a broken eye socket, and a grade three concussion,” I heard the man say. “His MRI also showed up several old contusions, extensive damage to his humerus not to mention signs of multiple metaphyseal-epiphyseal fractures that seem to have healed remarkably well without causing any major deformation or debilitation to his skeletal frame.”

“I don’t know what any of that means,” I heard my girlfriend strangle out. “What do you mean they’ve healed remarkably well?”

“May I be frank?”

“Yeah, yeah, be frank.”

“Joseph, may I be frank?”

“Be whoever the fuck you want, doc. I’m not your keeper,” I mumbled, enjoying the feel of Molloy’s fingers in my hair so much, I leaned in closer and rested my chin on her shoulder. “You be Frank and I’ll be Joey.”

“No, Joe, he meant… Never mind. Go ahead, doctor.”

“In cases like Joseph’s —”

“Joey,” I grumbled. “It’s Joey, Frank.”

“In cases like Joey’s, when patients present under these kinds of circumstances, there’s generally a long history of domestic violence, and to break it down for you, your partner’s test results reveal a pattern of child abuse that clearly stretches back to infancy.”

A pained sob escaped my girlfriend. “Infancy?”

“No, no, no,” I tried to coax, nuzzling her. “Don’t be crying, Molloy.”

“I’m okay, Joe,” she whispered, stroking me. “How can you tell, doctor?”

“The results of his scans clearly show evidence of malunion fractures that went untreated and healed improperly. There’s very clear evidence of a poorly healed mid-shaft fracture to his right humerus. Unfortunately, this is something commonly scene in infants under the age of eighteen months who have been exposed to physical abuse. In your partner’s case, while his bones may have healed over time, many of the injuries his body sustained left residual shadows. Or blemishes, if you will.”

“You’re saying this has been happening since he was a baby?”

“I’m saying there’s evidence that leads me to believe that your partner has sustained a tremendous level of physical abuse over an extended period of time.”

“That leads back to when he was a baby?”

“It’s possible.”

“Oh my god.” Molloy heaved out a sob and pulled me closer. “Oh my god!”

“Quite frankly, it’s a miracle he’s sitting here.”