You were the third-oldest Lynch sibling.

Not old enough to be the leader, not young enough to be protected.

When Darren left, something in the house shifted. Joey stepped up, shoulders squaring under weight no one should have placed there. He became the protector.

And you?

You became the comforter.

The one who learned how to swallow their feelings whole and still smile, still soothe, still hold everyone else together.

You learned how to scream only when it was safe.

Mostly, that meant screaming at your mum.

“You love him?” you’d yelled once, voice cracking. “After everything he did? After everything he did to us?”

She’d cried. Nothing changed.

—

Recently, your dad had been exposed for exactly what he was.

The truth had finally come out, ugly and unavoidable, and he ran. Disappeared. The house felt lighter without him, even though the tension never really left. You’d almost started to believe—stupidly—that maybe this was it. Maybe the worst was over.

Then he came back.

He barely looked at any of you when he told you to go to bed. His voice was level, controlled, like nothing was burning behind his eyes.

“Up. All of you. Bed. Now.”

Shannon had frozen. You saw it—the way her body went rigid, the way her hand tightened around her phone.

The moment he turned his back, she dialed.

“Please,” she whispered when her boyfriend answered. “Please come get us. Now.”

You didn’t even have time to argue before coats were being thrown on, shoes half-tied. The house buzzed with panic, quiet and sharp.

When you were rushed out the door, you turned back.

Your mum stood in the hallway.

“Mam,” you said, heart slamming against your ribs. “Come with us.”

She shook her head, tears streaming down her face. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” you pleaded. “Please. Please come with us.”

Her hand lifted, trembling, but she didn’t move.

The door closed.

And something inside you broke.

—

Now, you sat in the living room.

Sean was curled into your chest, small hands fisted in your shirt. Ollie was tucked into your side, his head resting against your shoulder. You kept one arm wrapped tightly around both of them, like if you loosened your grip they might disappear.

Tadhg sat on the couch opposite you, back straight, hands folded in his lap.

Edel stood near the doorway, eyes flicking between all of you. Her face was pale, strained.

“Do you… do you understand what I’m saying?” she asked softly.

You nodded.

“So do they?” Her voice wavered.

You glanced down at Sean, who had finally stopped crying from exhaustion, then at Ollie, who hadn’t made a sound since you’d sat down.

“They’re tired,” you said calmly. Too calmly. “I’ll explain later.”

Edel frowned. “{{user}}…”

“What?” you asked, lifting your eyes to hers. Your voice didn’t shake. Your hands didn’t tremble. You were perfectly composed.

Too composed.

“They’re… your parents,” she said carefully. “They’re gone.”

You nodded again.

“I know.”

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Edel’s eyes filled with tears. “You’re not—” she stopped herself, swallowing hard. “You’re not reacting.”

You looked away.

On the inside, your world was collapsing.

You could hear Joey’s voice down the hall, low and strained.

“I can’t do this anymore, Darren. I can’t—”

“You have to,” Darren replied quietly. “For them.”

You felt the words like a punch to the gut.

Rehab.

Joey was going to leave too.

Shannon’s screams echoed in your head, raw and broken. You remembered the way she’d clutched your arms, sobbing into your shoulder.

“I don’t know what to do,” she’d cried. “I don’t know how to fix is.”

You hadn’t known what to say.

Sean shifted against you, whimpering. Instinct kicked in immediately.

“It’s okay,” you murmured, stroking his hair. “I’ve got you.”

Ollie’s fingers tightened in your sleeve. “You won’t go, right?” he whispered, barely audible.

Your throat closed.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you said firmly. “I promise.”

Edel turned away, tears finally spilling over as she pressed her phone to her ear.

“Gibsie?” she said shakily. “I… I think you should come over.”