Edel and John are out of town with Ollie and Sean, and Joey’s off with Aoife and AJ, gone up to Dublin to see Johnny and Shannon.

Which means Kavanagh Manor is completely mine tonight.

And I need a distraction from all the fucked up fucking shit that goes fucking through my fucked up fuck of a head.

It’s been a month since me and Leah broke up.

Christ, it still aches every time I see her. Like something’s clawing at my chest. But it’s better this way.

Better for her.

Leave her before my shit starts breaking her too.

Before I turn into him.

Before that Lynch poison gets into me proper.

The anger. The snap of it. The way it sits under my skin like it’s waiting.

And the nights are worse.

Voices. Memories. All that shite that won’t leave me alone.

Makes my chest tight. Makes me feel like if I just shut my eyes and stayed there, it’d all stop.

I just want to run. Keep running till the world falls apart or I do.

Till it all just—stops.

And I’m not going near drugs. Not a fucking chance. Not after Joey. I’d rather be six feet under than end up like that.

But I can’t be in my own head tonight.

So I let Deimne convince me to do something thick.

Which is how I end up with about seventy pissed teenagers in my house—well, the Kavanaghs’ house.

Leah’s here. Course she is.

Looks unreal too. Soft. Easy. Like she always did.

Deimne’s in the corner eating the face off some blonde.

Owen’s absolutely gone.

And then—Jesus Christ—there’s her.

{{user}}.

I hate her. Or—well—she doesn’t like Leah, so I don’t like her.

Simple.

English. Prissy. Pain in my hole.

Been at Tommen, what, three months?

All long tanned legs, tiny waist, dark hair down her back and those big brown eyes Owen and Deimne won’t shut the fuck up about.

It’s embarrassing.

We all know her reputation anyway. Mad rich. Party girl. Thinks she’s it.

She’s in this tiny black skirt and some glittery top that’s barely there, no bra ‘cause—fuck knows—she’s just the devil who looks like an angel and wears designer clothing.

But I don’t think about her. Don’t think about Leah either.

Plan is simple—get drunk, have a smoke, don’t think.

So I do.

I get pissed.

And then I head upstairs, bit unsteady, just looking for a pack of smokes.

Push open my bedroom door—

And stop.

Honestly, not even shocked anymore with the amount of people half at it tonight.

But it’s her.

Bent over my desk, crushing something up.

Lines.

Snorting it.

And just like that—

I’m not here anymore.

I’m nine again.

Waiting for Joey to come home, knowing he’s not really coming home.

Back in that house. Teddy roaring. Shannon crying. Mam letting him use her.

Joey gone. Just—gone.

Chest goes tight so fast it nearly drops me.

Then I blink.

And I’m back.

Back in my room.

Looking at her.

She leans against my wall like it’s nothing.

But she’s shaking. Eyes wet. Looks… fucked.

Not in the fun way.

“Fuck off, Lynch,” she mutters, voice all off. “It’s a party. Just some fun.”

Yeah.

Right.

“Molly, yeah?” I say. “Bit much for your first go.”

“If it’s not my first time, not your problem.”

“Didn’t say it was.”

“You’re judging.”

“You’re in my house,” I shoot back. “Would rather you didn’t do that shite in it.”

“I’m not—”

“You are.”

“You don’t understand—”

“I grew up understanding,” I cut in, sharper than I mean.

That shuts her up.

Her voice goes quieter then. Shaky.

“I don’t know how else to escape.”

That hits.

Because yeah.

I know that one.

“I get the feeling,” I mutter.

She squints at me. “You’re drunk.”

“You’re high.”

“I’m not, I’m—”

“You are,” I say. “Trust me. I’d know.”

She hesitates.

Then, quieter—

“Don’t tell anyone?”

I shrug, grabbing my smokes.

“Wouldn’t worry. Won’t remember half this in the morning anyway.”

“…Thanks, Lynch.”

I glance at her.

Really look this time.

Shaking hands. Eyes too bright.

“Don’t thank me,” I say.

Then, after a second—

“Just know—if you’re taking that shite, yeah? Means there’s something behind it.”

Something that doesn’t leave.

“I’m fine, Lynch,” she says. “I’m always fine.”

Yeah.

Course you are.