Needing 13 - Johnny Kavanagh

STONE COLD HEART

JOHNNY

I jolted awake, heart pounding as I lay motionless, ears straining for the sound that had disturbed my sleep. A few seconds passed, then the soft, persistent hum of vibration filled the silence again. Shifting sluggishly, I reached under my pillow and fumbled for my phone, squinting through heavy-lidded eyes as I found the screen. Blinking at the brightness, I swiped to accept and brought it to my ear.

"Gibs, if this isn't a fucking emergency, I'm gonna wring your bleeding neck."

But instead of best friend, a soft, familiar voice filled the line, tentative and trembling.

"H-hi, Johnny."

The sound jarred me fully awake. "Shannon?" I pushed myself up on my elbows, raking a hand through my hair as my eyes adjusted to the dark. The red digits of my bedside clock read 01:23.

"Are you alright?"

"No," she whispered, so faintly it barely registered over the line.

My heart stuttered. "What's wrong?" I asked, my pulse thudding in my ears. "What's happening?"

The soft, broken sniffle on the other end shot through me, and I kicked off the covers, my feet finding the cold floor as I reached for my clothes in the dark. "Talk to me, Shan," I urged, still pulling on my shirt. "C'mon, what's going on?"

"He's here," she choked out, her voice riddled with fear. "He's downstairs, and I'm scared."

I froze. "What do you mean?"

"My da," she replied, barely managing the words. "He's in the house, Johnny."

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.

Bloody hell.

Christ.

Fuck.

Every profanity I could summon rattled through my mind. "Can you get out?" I asked, already tugging on my jeans, my voice tight.

"No." Her voice was a shaky whisper. "He's in the kitchen. I can't go back down there."

Kitchen.

Couch.

Tara.

"Shannon," I said, keeping my voice steady as best I could, "Tara—where is she? Is she in the house?"

A choked sob broke through. "She's downstairs," Shannon's voice broke, and my stomach sank like a stone. "She was asleep when Dad arrived."

Shite. "I'm on my way," I grabbed my keys off the desk and headed straight for the door. "Shannon, listen to me," I said, trying to steady my tone as her quiet sobs filled the line. "I'm gonna get you out of there, alright? You and your siblings."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't say sorry." I thundered down the staircase, skidding through the hallway. "Are you safe?" I demanded, sprinting across the kitchen, heading straight for the utility room door and out into the cold night air. "Are you safe? Are you still in your room? Please, tell me your door's locked."

"Yeah," she replied, her voice tight, a shudder of relief unfurling inside me. "My door's locked."

Thank Christ. "I'm in the car now, Shan," I told her, unlocking it and sliding inside. Holding the phone against my ear with one shoulder, I turned the ignition and the car roared to life, wheels skidding on the gravel as I tore out of the driveway. "I'll be there in twenty minutes," I swore. "Does Conrad know? Does he know yer da's there?"

"I called him," she sniffed. "He was in Dublin for an exhibition. He's coming, but you were closer... so I called you."

"I'll be there soon. Just breathe, okay?"