Needing 13 - Johnny Kavanagh

NIGHTMARE

JOHNNY

"Johnny."

I felt a hand on my shoulder, shaking me back to reality, pulling me from the dark thoughts that had swallowed me whole. I blinked, disoriented, realizing where I was—still sitting at the dining room table.

"Johnny, you need to eat something. Tara wouldn't want you—"

That was the breaking point. My control snapped, anger rising in a sharp, sudden wave. "Don't mention her," I spat, my voice colder than I intended. The second the words left my mouth, I regretted them. A silence fell over the room, thick and suffocating. Everyone was staring. I could feel their eyes on me—wide, uncertain, uncomfortable.

"What the fuck you looking at?" Gibsie snarled at the table, his voice biting and fierce as he glared around at the others. "Stop staring and get on with your sad, pathetic lives."

I dropped my gaze, shame burning my cheeks. "Sorry, Gibs," I muttered, my hands twisting together in my lap.

"It's grand, Cap," he said, his voice softening as he slung an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close, offering what comfort he could. "We're all worried."

A sniffle from across the table drew my attention. Shannon was sitting there, her blue eyes swollen and red from crying, dark circles etched under them like shadows. Claire was beside her, an arm wrapped tightly around her shoulders, while Lizzie sat on the other side, gripping her hand tightly, her expression mirroring the same worry and helplessness I felt.

"This is a fucking nightmare."

"Shannon, I—"

"It's not your fault," Shannon said, her tone resolute, though her voice shook. She stared directly at me, as if willing me to believe it.

My throat tightened, words catching in the back of it. "She was in the car with me," I croaked, my voice hoarse and raw, cracking from the effort of speaking. It had been days since I'd used it properly. Five days, to be exact.

Five days since Tara had gone missing. Five excruciating, gut-wrenching days without any sign of her, without knowing if she was alive or dead, or worse. My heart twisted painfully in my chest as the guilt threatened to suffocate me. I had been there. I had been right there with her, in the car, and I couldn't do a damn thing to stop it.

The memory of the accident was hazy, broken into fragments—the screeching tires, the violent impact, her scream as she yelled at me to brake—and then... nothing. Darkness.

I didn't even get a proper look at the SUV that hit us. Its headlights were off, and everything happened so fast.

The next thing I remembered was waking up in the ambulance, the paramedic's face looming over me, telling me to calm down. She said I was okay, but all I could think about was Tara. Where was she? Why wasn't she there beside me? Was she hurt, or worse...?

I had tried to get up, tearing off the neck brace they'd strapped on me, ignoring the paramedic's pleas for me to stay still. I cursed at her, told her to go fuck herself. Tara was still out there. She needed me. I had to find her. I had to get back to her.

"Where's Tara?" I'd demanded, trying to push myself up off the stretcher, yanking off the neck brace they'd put on me.

Then five words shattered my world.

"There was no one else."

"What do you mean, 'no one else'?" I'd snapped, rage boiling inside me. "My girlfriend was in the car with me!"

But she had only shaken her head, her expression full of pity. "When we got to the scene, it was just you in the car. There was no sign of anyone else."