"He was worried about me so he called me a whore?" I shook my head, appalled. "Because that makes sense."
"Because you were in that picture –"
"Have you seen the picture?"
"No."
"Well, if you had you'd see that I didn’t do anything wrong!" Batting away a traitorous tear, I sniffled and said, "I've never even been with a boy, Mam, and you know that. But he gets to call me a whore and you do nothing."
"I did," she defended. "I spoke to your father about it and he's promised not to do it again."
"Forget it." Shoving back my chair, I quickly stood up and moved for the door, unwilling to listen to her explain away my father's actions. "Just forget it, Mam."
I'd heard enough of those explanations over the years.
"I need to go," I added hoarsely. "I don’t want to miss my bus again and cause any more problems."
"Stop," she warned, following after me. "I haven't finished."
"Yeah, well, I have," I choked out, shrugging off the hand she placed on my shoulder.
It was a gentle touch but it hurt worse than any slap he could deliver.
Ignoring my mother's protests, I stalked out of the kitchen.
"How did you get home last night?"
Stopping at the front door, I swung around to face her. "What?"
"Your father thinks Aoife dropped you home from school last night," she said, eyes laced with concern. "But I know that's not true – she works on Tuesday nights. So, how did you get home?"
"What does it matter?"
"It matters because it's fifteen miles to Tommen from our house, Shannon Lynch, and I want to know how you made that journey!" she demanded. "Are you having trouble again? Did you miss your bus on purpose to avoid more bullies?"
"No, Mam, I'm not having trouble at school," I choked out.
"It wouldn’t be the first time you avoided the bus, Shannon," she countered, blue eyes locked on mine. "If you're in trouble, you can tell me. I can help you."
"I love Tommen, Mam, I'm happy there!" The words that came out of my mouth surprised me because they were true.
Shockingly, I realized that I did, in fact, love my new school.
"Then how did you get home?" she repeated for the third time. "Tell me!"
"Johnny Kavanagh dropped me home," I bit out, fighting back the urge to scream. "Okay? Are you happy now? He's the boy I was with in the newspaper. I had my picture taken with him last week, and then I went and got in his car and he dropped me home last night, so I suppose you can run upstairs and tell Dad that he was right all along and I'm a fucking whore."
Mam's face turned deathly white. "I'm calling the school."
"What?" My eyes widened. "Why?"
"That boy is not supposed to go anywhere near you," she spat.
"Why not?"
"Because he hurt you, Shannon!"
"It was an accident."
"I'm phoning Mr. Twomey."
Mam turned to walk back into the kitchen to get her phone and I found myself chasing after her. "Don’t –Mam, don’t!"
"Give me my phone, Shannon," my mother ordered when I wrestled it out of her hands. "Right this minute."
"You don’t even know why!" I cried, clutching her mobile to my chest.
"I don’t care," Mam barked and yanked the phone out of my hands. "He knows the rules. They were explained to him very clearly. He is not supposed to talk to you. He was warned, Shannon. In no uncertain terms. He should have been suspended for what he did to you. By the time I'm finished with him, he will be."
"Johnny is not the problem here," I strangled out. My heart was hammering in my chest, the thought of getting Johnny into trouble again was making me feel lightheaded. "He apologized for what happened. He replaced my uniform. He stuck up for me at school when a boy was giving me trouble. He has been nothing but good to me, Mam."
My mother was not a big woman, but at 5'8 and four and a half months pregnant, I felt very small in this moment.
When her fingers tapped against the keypad of the phone, I reached my breaking point.
"I missed my bus!" I screamed, panicking when she began to dial. "I was scared of being late. I was scared of coming home late to him. I took the spin because I was desperate! Because I knew what he'd do if I waited for the next bus."
"Shannon," Mam whispered, pausing mid-dial. "You don’t have to feel scared to come home."
"Don’t I?" I brushed my hair off my face and pointed to the scar on my temple.
The one that my father put there when he almost maimed me with a whiskey bottle when I was eleven.
There were many more where that one came from, but she already knew that.
"You are so concerned with fighting the bullies at school, Mam," I sobbed, tears streaming down my cheeks. "When the biggest bully of them all lives under this roof."
My mother flinched like I had physically slapped her.
I hadn't.
What she was feeling right now was a cold, hard dose of reality smacking her in the face.
"You need to leave Johnny alone!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, voice shrill and furious. "He has done nothing wrong here! Absolutely nothing."
I didn’t care anymore.
If I woke my father, then I woke him.
If he kicked the shit out me, then I would heal.
I was beyond containing myself, and all of my concern was directed at the boy who had done nothing to deserve being dragged into the middle of my madness.
"I mean it, Mam," I warned, voice warbling. "Call the school making trouble for Johnny and I'll tell them everything you don’t want them to know!"
Mam clutched her chest and shook her head. "Shannon."
"Everything," I bit out.
This time when I turned around, I didn’t turn back.
"Shannon, wait," were the last words I heard before I closed the door on my problems.
Tilting my head up to the storm ridden sky, I closed my eyes and absorbed the feel of raindrops pelting down on my skin.
I stood right there in the middle of the torrential March downpour, and prayed for divine intervention, or at the very least, a little reprieve from the hell that was the family I'd been born into.
I never wanted to go back into that house.
Knowing that I had no choice and would have to go back was a special form of hell.
For once in my life, I wanted a safe place to run to instead of from.
I felt like I was slowly dying in that house.
In my home.
Where I was supposed to lay my head.
Where I was supposed to feel safe.
The door opened behind me and every muscle in my body coiled tight with dreaded anticipation.
He was up and I was done for.
"Shannon." My mother's voice filled my ears, managing to dissipate some of the fear threatening to choke me. "You forgot to take your coat."
Stiff as a poker, I turned to find Mam standing in the doorway with my coat in her hands.
"You need your coat," she explained in a thick tone, gesturing a hand to the sky. "They're forecasting another storm."
"Don’t you ever get tired of it, Mam?" I asked, voice breaking. Blinking back my tears, I choked out, "Don’t you ever get sick to death of pretending?"
Her expression caved. "Shannon…"
She took a step towards me and I took three more back.
I couldn’t keep doing this.
I couldn’t keep living like this.
I laid my heart out to my mother.
And she was worried about a coat.
"Fuck my coat," I strangled out as I broke into a run towards the bus stop, desperate to put some much-needed distance between me and my family. "Fuck my life!"
21
Closure
Shannon
When I arrived at school, the anger hadn't dissipated one inch.
I was so furious I could practically taste it, and in a messed-up way, I welcomed the emotion.
It was better than the usual desperation and fear that rattled through me.
The anger made me brave and it gave me the Dutch courage I needed to do what had to be done.
Regardless of how much my brain told me this was a bad idea, I knew I had to do it.