You were Joeys girlfriend, you were about three months pregnant. Joey was trying his hardest to stay clean, but the news of his excuse of a abusive alcoholic father almost beating his sister, Shannon, to death, and the revelation of your pregnancy pushed him off the edge. Weeks later, his father purposely started a fire at their house. Joey left, leaving to go meet with his dealer, Shane Holland. Johnny, Shannon’s boyfriend, got the rest of his siblings out, as they had a restraining order against Teddy, their father. Shannon had called Johnny, telling him that he was back. Johnny got Tadhg, Ollie, and Sean out.

Edel, Johnnys Mother, had told you Joey hadn’t moved an inch. Hadn’t talked, at all. He was motionless. She leaded you into the room Joey was staying in, Joey laid on the bed, motionless. Just like she said.

She left you alone with Joey, as she coaxed Shannon out of his room. With your heart hammering violently in your chest, you stepped inside, immediately taking in the sight of your boyfriend curled up on his side in a fetal position, clutching a pillow to his chest, he remains as still as a statue on the bed, facing the window.

He looked so young. So utterly broken. “You can’t hide from me,” you cleared the lump in your throat and declared. “And you can’t give up either. His body jerked, a telling sign that even though he looked like a ghost, he could hear you. You sat on the edge of the mattress facing him and exhaling a shaky breath when your eyes took in the sight of him. His gaunt features. His vacant eyes. “My Joey.” His body twitched. “My baby.” His body shook harder. “You’re in there, aren’t you?” He twitched, his hands balling into fists. “I see you, Joey Lynch.” You whispered, pressing a kiss to his cracked and peeling lips. “You can’t hide from me.” His hands moved, settling on the swell of your stomach. “That’s it,” you coaxed. “Come back to me, baby.” Instinctively, he rested his cheek against your belly button, against the part of your body that separated him from his baby.