Back to me

Kian

The hospital finally discharged me last night. Said I was lucky, even though I didn't feel it. I'd fractured a fair few bones, busted ribs, my shoulder's all messed up, and I can't see properly out of one eye just yet.

Mam cried the whole way home. Said she was sorry. Said she should've left him ages ago. I didn't say anything—what was the point? We both knew the truth. She didn't leave 'cause she thought maybe he'd stop. He never did. And I never told her just how bad it got sometimes, 'cause I didn't want her to feel worse than she already did. And of course with mam being pregnant, her emotions were heightened. I hoped the baby was okay.

Apparently da hasn't been home in three days. That's three days too short, if you ask me. I don't want him here. I don't even want to say his name out loud. Da. Shane Holland. It just icks me out.

Every time I even think about him my chest tightens- but thats partially due to my bruised ribs aswell as my unbridled rage when it came to that disgusting excuse of a man.

I just pray he stays away.

If he comes back, everything we've been working toward could fall apart. He'd ruin everything.

We're this close to getting Emi back.

Darren Lynch said social services were reviewing everything, that Mam's efforts were being noticed—getting clean, holding a job, going to the parenting courses. They're saying we've got a shot now. That Emi could come home

But if Da comes back? All of it goes down the drain.

I can't let that happen.

I need Emi home.

She's my baby sister. I need to know she's safe, not with strangers in some house where I can't see her, can't protect her. If she was here, I could keep her close. I could make sure no one ever lays a hand on her, not like he did to me.

She deserves better than this. And Mam and I—we're trying. We are.

All I can do now is get through the pain, heal up, and pray to whatever's out there that he doesn't walk through that door again.

Because if he does...

I don't know what I'll do.

I shouldn't be out of bed. That's what Mam said this morning when she caught me pulling on my hoodie over the bandages on my ribs.

But I had to see her.

I had to see Mallory.

I hadn't spoken to her since she told me. Since she told me she was keeping our baby and still wouldn't let me in. And maybe it was the pain meds, or maybe it was just the pure desperation clawing at my chest, but I couldn't sit at home anymore, waiting for her to change her mind.

I needed to look her in the eye. Needed her to see me.

So I walked.

Took me forever. Every few steps I thought I was gonna keel over, vision blurring, ribs screaming. But I made it.

The Lynchs' front door looked taller than I remembered. Or maybe I just felt smaller than I used to.

I hesitated. Just for a second. Then knocked.

Heavy footsteps. Muffled voices.

And then—

Mallory.

Standing there in one of AJ's oversized hoodies and leggings, her hair up, face bare. She looked like a fucking angel.

Her eyes widened when she saw me, then dropped to the bruising that still colored the edge of my cheekbone, the swelling around my eye.

"Kian..." she whispered, her voice cracking.

"Can we talk?" I asked. My voice came out rough, low. "Please."

She looked over her shoulder, then back at me. "Mam and Da aren't home. Come in."

I stepped inside, the warmth of her house hitting me instantly. It smelled like washing powder and toast, and it felt like everything I didn't know I'd missed.

We walked through to the sitting room in silence. I sat down slowly, groaning through my teeth as I lowered myself onto the couch.

Mallory hovered, then sat beside me—far enough to give me space, but close enough that I could feel her presence.

"I'm not here to force you into anything," I started, my hand shaking a bit as I rested it on my knee. "I just... I had to see you."

She didn't say anything. Just looked at me. Eyes glossy.

"I know I've got nothing to offer you right now," I continued. "No job. No future colleges or apprenticeships. I'm living in a house where I nearly died last week, for feck's sake." I laughed, bitterly. "But I love ya. I've loved you since the moment you started picking fights with me in English class."

"Kian..." she whispered again.

"I'm not walking away," I said firmly, lifting my gaze to hers. "You don't want me, fine. You hate me, fine. But that baby is mine too. And I swear to you, Mal, I'll do whatever it takes to be there. For you. For them. For both of you."

She covered her mouth with her hand, eyes brimming with tears.

"Even if you never want to be with me again," I said quietly, "please don't shut me out. Let me help."

Her shoulders shook. And then—finally—she nodded.

"I never hated you," she whispered. "I was just scared."

"So am I," I admitted. "But we're in it now. Together or not, we're in it."

And she leaned into me. Just slightly. Her head resting on my shoulder like she used to.

And for the first time in weeks, the weight on my chest felt just a little bit lighter.