Everyone’s heard of my family’s history.

Doesn’t even matter how much of it’s true — none of it’s good. Rumours stick better when they’re ugly. I never used to give a shite what people thought of me. Still don’t, mostly. But when the loudest voice tearing me apart lives in my own head, anyone else tryin’ to join in just pisses me off.

You’d think bein’ abused, then nearly burned alive in a house fire, might soften people up. Make them careful. Sympathetic.

Yeah. No.

Not when it comes to the rich, polished arseholes who think money makes them untouchable. The kind who believe they’re owed the world just for existin’.

Stuck-up pricks.

When the Kavanaghs stepped in and took us in, Ollie and Sean fell for Edel and John instantly. No hesitation. They’re barely not glued to their sides now. Therapy followed right after school did — every one of us marched into offices with soft chairs and softer voices.

“We’re not broken,” Edel tells us. Over and over.

And she’s right. Mostly.

My siblings aren’t broken. They’re traumatised. That’s survivable. That heals slow.

Me?

I’m fuckin’ broken.

Seven therapists. Maybe more. I stopped countin’ after the fourth one quit. Every single one started hopeful, confident, like I was a challenge they were excited to crack — and every single one realised eventually there was nothin’ in me they could fix.

Unfixable. Too angry. Too shut down.

They’re right.

I barely sleep. When I do, I wake up drenched in sweat or shoutin’ myself hoarse. I fight every day at school — real fights, not shovin’ matches. It’s honestly a miracle I’m still allowed through the gates.

Johnny Kavanagh — Shannon’s boyfriend — walks like he owns the place. Star rugby player. Golden boy. Teachers love him. Girls adore him. Blah fuckin’ blah.

I could bench him in seconds.

Probably true, too. I’m as tall as him now. Built the same. Just meaner. He’s got patience I’ll never carry. He chooses calm. I don’t even know what that feels like.

And now — walkin’ through the Tommen gates — the stares hit harder than I expected.

This is my first proper day here. Back in public. All because I made “progress” in therapy last week. Progress bein’ that I said the word fire out loud.

Only reason it came out was ‘cause I told the therapist he was fired.

Technicality.

Edel turned a blind eye to that part. Thank fuck. I don’t have the patience for professionals who stretch conversations until you’re cornered into apologisin’. I’ve heard Shan talk about this place long enough. I’ve been comin’ in once a week for tutoring already — slipped in and out quiet, invisible.

Now there’s no hidin’.

Johnny walks ahead, murmurin’ to Shannon in that soft voice of his. Disgustin’. Joey’s beside Aoife, lettin’ her wind him up like always.

And I trail behind.

A fuckin’ fifth wheel.

Not like I want a girlfriend anyway. That’s work. Too much work.

Care about someone else when I can barely care about myself? No fuckin’ chance.