it’s early in the morning.

dad is asleep. so is mam.

you step over the glass on the kitchen floor to get to the cupboard. you reach up to it, open it and rifle through it. you like to keep the stuff you buy away from teddy — while half of your wages go to your mam, you’d like to keep the things you do buy away from his hands.

you grab out the muffins you bought last night and stick a candle in it. you fish out the lighter from the cupboard, and light the candle, walking up the stairs slowly.

shannon was a sensitive soul. she’s eleven today, and while birthday’s in the lynch household aren’t at all normal, you want to try your best for her. she’s the only girl, your only sister, and while you couldn’t get her a lot of presents, muffins and a sweet treat was something you could do. it was the least you could do — if the kids had to grow up like this, then you wanted to make it a little easier.

it wasn’t fair. the constant fear. the abuse. the yelling. the alcohol.

but you shove those thoughts down and walk into your room. shannon came in halfway through the night, frightened after mam and dad got into another argument. you let her into the bed, tadhg on the other side and baby ollie in the crib next to your bed. you open the door and shut it behind you.

she’s half awake, rubbing her face sleepily. a small smile appears on her face as you approach the bed, singing happy birthday. and that smile?

that means everything to you.