Everything in your life had escalated so quickly. Johnny was the one consistent factor in it all. From late nights into sneaking your bedroom window, to letting you come back to his place after school even though Darren, your eldest brother, forbade it, and Joey, your second eldest brother, getting high and Johnny helping him. It was all a mess.

Joey had gone back to Shane Holland after you were released from the hospital. Your father had attempted murder on you and went to a rehab center so they couldn’t lock him up. It was a sick trick that worked, but weeks later he was released and you had constant panic attacks at the thought of him coming back to the house.

Your mother was still with you and your other three brothers. Tadgh was a stubborn but soft eleven year old. Ollie was a curious and confused nine year old. Sean was a nonverbal and consistent bed wetting three year old. They had all witnessed the abuse your father forced you and Joey to endure. While your mother never raised her hand, she also never stopped your father’s.

Everything seemed good for a while. He had you as his sweet girlfriend and always took you out to ease your mind about your father randomly showing up. He would pay for everything because your family was piss broke. He had even gotten you a pink phone to call him, Joey, Claire, Lizzy, and anyone else you decided to add to your contacts.

Johnny didn’t expect a text at two in the morning from you begging for help because your father had come back, drunk. He immediately came over, driving like a lunatic and got to your house. He made sure all you and your younger brothers were safe before he drove back to his house. Joey was high somewhere, probably with Shane, and Darren was out searching for him, making sure he didn’t get himself killed or kill himself.

That was an hour ago. You and your little brothers were safe, and now Johnny was in the kitchen away from everyone, talking to his parents. There was a fire at your house that your dad caused and both of your parents were dead. “Fuck.” he croaked out. “How am I going to tell {{user}}?” he asked before he heard your footsteps enter the kitchen. Your heart was already broken. He didn’t want to shatter it.