Saving 6: Boys of Tommen #3

DECEMBER 23RD 2004

AOIFE

I WAS in love with an addict.

It was as humiliating as it was heartbreaking.

Joey’s incessant need to snort God only knew what up his nose had overtaken his need for me. I felt like I was the other woman in a twisted love triangle between him, my heart, and his latest drug of choice.

I watched him the other night.

He didn’t even try to hide it.

And instead of doing the right thing for me, I did the safe thing for him.

I took him into my bed and into my body.

Because I loved him.

Because I couldn’t stop fighting for the boy that I knew was still inside of him.

Even now, as I dolled myself up to meet him out in town for his birthday, I couldn’t silence the voice inside of me that demanded I have some respect for myself.

I had always considered myself to be a strong girl, but right now, as I tried to look at myself in the mirror with my head held high, I never felt like such a fake.

So weak.

So small.

So fucking uncertain.

Coming out tonight was a mistake.

I’d known it the moment I caught a glimpse of Joey’s black eyes, and I knew it now.

Whatever he’d taken with his asshole buddies in the bathroom earlier, had morphed him into a walking, breathing, Duracell bunny.

All he was short of doing was climbing the walls.

“What’s he jacked-up on?” Casey asked, slipping her arm through mine, as we sat in the corner of Biddies back lounge, and watched on as my boyfriend buzzed around the room, unable to stand still for longer than thirty seconds at a time. “Jesus, Aoif, he’s wired to NASA.”

“I know,” I squeezed out, watching as stumbled his way through a conversation with a few of the lads from his hurling team, downing shots and laughing like a maniac. With his arms flying around animatedly, he looked the opposite of his usual self, if that version of him even existed anymore.

“Do you want to leave?” my best friend asked, resting her head on my shoulder. “We can get out of here, leave Tigger and the rest of his pals from The Hundred Acre Wood to it, and have a girly night at my place instead.”

“I can’t,” I replied, watching on nervously, as I waited for him to crash and burn.

“You can’t control him, Aoif,” she said softly. “He’s his own person. Joey Lynch is going to do what he’s going to do, regardless of the consequences.”

“I don’t want to control him, Case,” I whispered. “I want to stop him from self-destructing.”

“Only he can do that, babe,” she said softly. “And no amount of wanting it for him will work until he wants it for himself.”

‘Joey!’

Everything had been going relatively fine until Joey, along with a group of boys from his estate, had all but flipped out and jumped clean over the wall of the outdoor smoking area.

Bleary eyed and tipsy, I stumbled out the back door of Biddies, pushing past the crowd, and kicking off my high-heels, in my rush to chase him down.

“Aoife, just leave him!” Casey called after me, but I couldn’t.

I just couldn’t.

Running down the alleyway, I quickly cut across the street I’d last seen him, and kept running, until I turned a corner in town and my feet came to an abrupt stop.

“Joey!” I screamed, mouth hanging open. ‘What the hell are you doing?’

Laughing like a deranged maniac, my boyfriend stood on the bonnet of a Mercedes Benz parked just outside one of the pubs we both knew that his father drank in and rammed his fists into the windscreen.

“Joey!” I screamed, watching in horror as his recently scabbed over knuckles reopened and started bleeding.

Several of his asshole friends from the terrace were watching on and encouraging this absolute madness; clearly delighted with his outburst.

They were laughing like ruining his life was some big joke to them.

Bastards.

‘Joe, stop!’ I screamed, pushing my hair out of my eyes, as I raced up the street towards him. ‘You’re going to get arrested!’

Joey laughed, clearly out of his fucking mind on whatever they’d given him, as he continued to pummel the luxury model with his bloodied knuckles.

The sound of sirens in the distance had my heart thundering in my chest.

‘Ah, leave him alone, girl,’ one of the lads shouted out. ‘Give the lad a break.’

‘Go fuck yourself,’ I snapped, climbing onto the bonnet of the car, knowing full well that my ass was on full display for all of his so-called friends and everyone else watching his meltdown, but not giving a damn.

‘Stop!’ I ordered, catching ahold of his closed fists before he could do any more damage. ‘Joey.’ His blood trickled onto my hands as I closed them over his fists and forced him to still. ‘Stop.’

He was breathing hard, still laughing like a crazy person, as tears flowed down his cheeks.

‘Stop,’ he mimicked my voice and then laughed harder. ‘Stop. Stop. Fucking stop!’ His voice cracked and his expression caved. ‘Stop,’ he whispered, shaking now, pushing his bloodied hands through his rain-soaked hair. ‘Make it stop.’

My heart cracked clean open in my chest at his words.

‘Shite, lads, the shades,’ one of his prick friends called out, as they all ran in opposite directions. ‘Scatter!’

Panicked, I did the only thing I could do in this moment; I slid off the bonnet of the car, took Joey’s bloody hand in mine, and pulled him down to the ground with me.

“Molloy.” He looked at me like he was seeing me for the first time. “What are you…”

“Come on, Joe,” I coaxed, desperately trying to get through to him, as I reached for his hand. “Come with me.”

And then, with his hand firmly clamped in mine, I led him away from the scene of the crime, incriminating myself further into this world that I had no business being a part of.

Literally shaking from the adrenalin rushing through my bloodstream, I kept my hand welded to Joey’s for the entire stumbling-run back to my house, too afraid to let go out of fear of what he might do next.

“He’s left a hole inside of you,” I told him, as I dragged him along after me. “It’s trauma, Joey.” Releasing a pained growl when we reached my street, I found myself desperately trying to reason with the unreasonable. “You’re traumatized, and you need professional help.”

“I’m fine.”

“Joey, you are about the furthest from fine a person can get.”

“Leave it alone, Molloy,” he muttered. “I don’t want to fight with you.”

“And I don’t want you to die!” I screamed, tears falling freely now, as my emotions got the better of me. There was something so tragic about this boy, something that I wanted to keep. “Don’t you care about yourself? Not even a little bit?”

“It doesn’t matter.” He shook his head. “None of this matters.”

“Yes, it does,” I heard myself shout. “It fucking does.”

“Molloy.”

“It matters because you matter!” I cried, glancing down at my bloodstained hands. “It matters because I love you!”

“I’m sorry I fucked your night up,” he decided to go with. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“I don’t want you to make it up to me, Joey, I want you to talk to me,” I begged him. “Just open up to me, Joe. If you tell me what’s going on inside of your head, then maybe I can help.” I batted a tear from my cheek and cried, “Then maybe we can start getting a handle on this. “

“I’m not okay!” he roared, yanking his hand away from mine. “Is that what you want me to admit? Is that what you want to hear, Molloy? That I’m not okay?”

“Yes,” I cried, feeling both relief and devastation flood my body. “That’s what I want you to admit. I want the words, Joey. I want all of your words!”

‘Pain,’ he roared into my face, eyes alight with temper, as his shadow danced with his demons. ‘On the outside. On the inside. All around me. Pain so fucking strong I’m drowning in it!” He ran his bloodstained hands through his hair, tingeing his blond hair a faint crimson color. “That’s what I feel. That’s all I feel. All the fucking time!”

My heart spliced open. “Joe.”

“Do you want to hear about often I pissed the bed out of fright until he literally beat the piss, blood and snot out of me?” he roared, tears flowing down his cheeks now, too. “Because that happened, Molloy. I was weak. I cried. I begged. I hid. I ran. And then when all of that failed, I fought back. I stood the fuck up and fought back. It didn’t work in the beginning. He still smacked the shit out of me, but at least I felt like I was doing something!” Chest heaving, he ran his hands through his hair. “And now I feel nothing. I feel nothing, and I’m fine with that!”

“And you are entitled to feel that way!” I screamed back at him. “Your father has put you through hell. None of what happens in that house is on you. Not one bit of it. You’ve grown up in a war zone. You’ve done a phenomenal job—’

“Stop!” He held a hand up in warning. “My true colors are ugly, Molloy. Stop looking for the good in me, because it’s not there to find. I promise. Because I know that I love you, but in all honesty, if I could forget you, I would.’

The words were like a bucket of ice to my face.

I sucked in a sharp breath. “You don’t mean that.”

“I used to think that I wasn’t like him – that I was different, but you can’t change DNA.” Choking out a sob, he roughly batted his tears away before saying, “Look at me, Molloy. Look at who I am. Look the fuck at what I’ve done to you! I’m just like him.”

‘No.’ Shaking my head, I stalked right over to him and grabbed his face in my hands, roughly, raw, sincerely refuting his deepest fear. ‘You are nothing like him.’

“Yes, I am,” he strangled out, breaking free from my hold as he staggered away from me. “And if you don’t get away from me soon, you’re going to end up just like my mother.”