It’s the call that makes my lungs seize up.

“AJ, it’s— It’s Kian— Her brother— Da— He beat the hell out her. You need to come. Now.”

I don’t ask questions. Just grab my keys, nearly rip the bleeding front door off its hinges on my way out. The weather’s pissing down, slick roads and no feckin’ time. I don’t even feel the cold. The wind could gut me and I’d still run through it.

When I get there, her brother’s already in the doorway—shirt stained red, hands shaking, his mouth moving but the words don’t register. My ears are ringing. I brush past him, my feet slipping on the wet tiles.

And then I see her.

She’s on the kitchen floor.

Blood.

So much blood.

Her legs are twisted like a doll someone gave up on, her head slumped against the tiles. Her hair’s matted and there’s red across her lip, her jaw, her arms—like someone painted her in pain. And she’s in a pool of blood. Her own.

I fall to my knees, nearly slide on the slick of it, my heart screaming in my chest. “Jesus Christ—What did he do.”

“Babe.” My voice cracks. My hands are on her shoulders, gently, careful not to break what’s left. Her skin’s cold. Ice cold. “No, no, no, no-”

She groans.

Barely. Like a whisper wrapped in hurt.

“I got you,” I breathe, forehead pressed to hers, even if she can’t feel it. “You’re alright, d’you hear me? I’m here now. I’ve got you. You’re grand, love, you’re grand.”

Her brother’s crying behind me. Proper shaking, like he’s ten years old again. “I—I tried to call the Gardaí, but Dad… he’s gone. He left.”

Shane Holland

Feckin coward. That langer of a man. I told her a hundred times he was a ticking bomb. But she always said, “It’s okay, AJ. He’s not always bad.” And now look.

I look back at her. Her lips are cracked. She’s got bruises that look days old. Others that are fresh, blooming across her like someone wanted to erase her from the world.

She’s still breathing. Just barely.

My hoodie’s off in seconds, wrapped around her. I don’t care if it’s soaked. It’s warm. It’s mine. Like she is.

“Look at me,” I whisper. “Come on, princess. You’re not leaving me, yeah? We’ve been through too much. You don’t get to leave me.”

Her lips twitch. Just a little. Like she hears me. Like she knows I’m here.

I pull her lifeless body onto my lap, hold her like something sacred. Her brother’s already on the phone with the ambulance. I hear the sirens in the distance, but it all sounds so far away.

My mind’s not in the room. It’s back at every smile she gave me. Every time she said my name like it meant something. Back to when she touched my face like I was something precious. It hit me all at once, I didn’t deserve the stubborn girl in my arms. She was everything and more.

She made me good. Better. And now someone tried to break my everything.

Nah.

Not happening.

The front door bursts open. Paramedics rush in. I don’t want to let her go but I do. For her. Always for her. I help them lift her, whispering to her the whole time.

“You stay with me, alright? We’ve got plans, yeah? You’re gonna have my babies, We’ve got a whole feckin’ life to live. You and me.”

They try to take her away. I follow. They ask if I’m family—I say I’m her bleeding world. They don’t argue.

In the ambulance, I’m holding her hand. Her pulse is there. Faint. But it’s there. I don’t care about the blood on my jeans, or the way her brother’s sobbing outside. All I care about is her opening those eyes again.

“Don’t do this to me,” I murmur, thumb brushing over her knuckles. “Not you. Anyone but you.”

I think of her laugh. The way she goes quiet when she’s overthinking. How she always tucks her hair behind her ear when she’s lying. I think of the way she smells like vanilla and weed and everything I never thought I’d deserve.