Needing 13 - Johnny Kavanagh

IS THIS A CUT SCENE?

TARA

"She can't run, Fintan. What part of that don't you understand?" a voice snapped, sharp and impatient. "Her whole body is bandaged up. She can barely walk."

"Lucy, you knew this and didn't tell me?" another voice followed, full of fury and frustration. "I've unwittingly put that girl's life in danger because you've been keeping this from me?"

"Shut up, both of you," a third voice cut in, calm but stern. "No one knows, and it's going to stay that way until she gives us the green light."

"Her father nearly killed her, and you expect me to keep quiet, John?" the furious voice countered, rising in intensity. "She had to be resuscitated God knows how many fucking times in the fucking OR. You can't just ask me to sit on this."

"We know," came a female voice. "We're all worried, but the doctor said she'll wake up soon. Everyone just needs to calm down, okay? Don't get her worked up."

Shite. Where the hell was I?

My head was pounding as I tried to piece together what was happening.

Shannon bleeding out.

Tadhg with the knife.

Mam hurt.

Joey on the floor.

Ollie crying.

Sean terrified.

Everything slammed into me at once, my body jolting awake with panic. My eyes flew open, and in that instant, a searing, white-hot pain shot through my back, like someone had pressed a red-hot iron against my skin. I tried to scream, but no sound came out, just the hollow agony ringing through my body.

Jesus Christ Almighty.

A loud, blaring noise—like a fire alarm—sliced through the fog of pain, followed by the hurried shuffling of feet.

"Hey—hey, it's okay." A large, gentle hand pressed down on my shoulder, urging me back onto the bed. "We're here. You're safe."

Safe?

The word felt foreign.

I shook my head frantically, reaching for the tubes in my nose and yanking them free.

Air.

I needed air.

My hands flew to my throat when no sound came out.

Why couldn't I speak?

The rising panic burned in my chest as I gasped for breath.

"Shh, take it easy," the same voice said. "Don't try to talk, Tara."

My hands shook as I raised one to my face, grazing the bandages covering my face. And then it hit me.

Dad.

The knife.

His belt.

My back.

My face.

"It's okay," the voice continued. "You're okay. You're in the hospital, but you're safe now. Nobody's going to hurt you."

Safe.

That word again.

I wanted to laugh.

Summoning what little strength I had, I forced my eyes open. The first thing I saw were grey eyes staring down at me, wide with relief.

"Morning, princess," Malachy whispered softly, his voice rough but warm. "How're you feeling?"

I glared at him, holding up both middle fingers and mouthing, Fuck you.