HAVING 13

1. Prologue

MISSY

Ever since I was born, I had been trapped.

I was brought into a prison, put on this earth with tied hands behind a metal door with a tight lock.

Because I was ridiculed for speaking at home, I was quieter than other kids. They bullied me for that.

The biggest bully in my eyes was always my Father, but there were always methods to escape his fists.

By leaving. Darren (the oldest of us) did, but the rest of us that he left swore to never escape this way. He was just a ghost to me now.

Doing drugs. Staying out and snorting or injecting any substance I could get my hands on was an idea. My older brother, Joey had chosen this one. I'd gone down this path for only two months before it ended me in the most horrendous relationship ever.

Violence. Fighting was never my thing, but verbally berating my sister's bullies was something I could find solace in. It helped for a while, but then they backed off because they knew I'd sort them out if they bothered her. Loss of that option.

Being an underaged drinker. I could become an alcoholic, but that was my Da's thing, and also the reason I was trapped. I couldn't be more like him, so I stuck to getting black-out drunk only on occasion.

Dating the wrong guy. That's what my Mam did, and look at where she ended up. I'd tried it and I ended up exactly like her. Empty. I dated a sanctimonious prick on-and-off for a year, but I found my way out once I realised I had free will.

So, what I resorted to regularly was taking a sharp object and moving it across my pale skin.

I thought it could fill the hole inside of me. When it made me feel in control of pain I felt inside, I got addicted to it like my older brother did to drugs and my father did to drinking.

Addiction is like that, whether it's a substance, a video game, or—like mine—cutting. One day, you're curious about why everyone else is doing it. The other, it's all you ever think of as a solution to your problems.

Along with Joe, I was my siblings' protector. Shannon, Tadhg, Ollie and Sean were basically our children instead of Mam's. (Da didn't even come close to being their parent.)

The only thing that connected us children with our parents was DNA. They weren't our family in any way except for blood relation.

My brothers and I all looked like walking copies of our Da, but then there was Shan who looked like the spitting image of our Mother. For that reason, I had started dyeing my hair brown in the Summer of '04, because I would rather look at a reflection of my Mam than my Father when I looked in the mirror.

I wish she would leave him, but after seeing her beg him to stay my entire life, I had lost hope. Not only in her, but in ever getting out of this house and out of Theodore Lynch's grasp. As if it wasn't enough that I was named after him, he had also scarred me forever, emotionally and physically.

I believed I was trapped. I always had been.

•

JOHNNY

Rugby was my entire life, but I could lose it. I wouldn't let it happen, but I could lose everything.

Cutting to the chase, in October, I had a surgery for an adductor tendon tear, and I pretended like the wound healed within weeks when it really hadn't healed properly at all.

I couldn't waste time on resting. I had to get back to training if I wanted to make it in life, so that's what I did.

Now I suffered the consequences. Every step I took, I felt a burn in my groin. Every movement I made, I felt like a thousand knives were being stabbed into my upper thigh.

The wound was gnarly to look at. Sometimes it would ooze, sometimes it would bleed, but most of all, it hurt like a bitch.

I still pushed through.

I kept training at the Academy and at Tommen, I kept running laps, I kept tackling, I kept winning games for school, I kept kicking the rugby ball. It's the only way I'd be selected for Ireland in June.

I needed to pour everything I had into being the very best. There was no time for recovery. There was no time for figuring out why it hurt like hell when I tried to wank.

When I had surgery, I called things off with my occasional hook-up, Bella. I finally saw the situation from the side, and realised that she really was 'devil pussy', as my best friend said.

She called, texted and approached me, but I ignored her. I had no room for that anymore, knowing that she was batshit crazy. I also had the injury to worry about now.

Eventually, though, I was deprived. I needed some sexual relief. I tried to wank—very carefully might I add—and it was great, until I tried to finish. I threw up from the amount of pain, to paint the picture of how bad it hurt.

Anyway, I needed to keep my head in the game and my hands off my dick. I needed to make a career for myself.

The only problem was this injury, because I didn't know how it would ever get truly better if I didn't have time to spare for healing.

I was barely holding up, but I wanted to be the greatest. I had to be.

NOTE

Yay!!! First chapter!!! First published story!!!

How is everyone doing today? Major life accomplishments anyone???

Once again telling you that comments and suggestions are very helpful to me :)

Love, Rhiannon