SKYFALL, Johnny Kavanagh

Temporary escapes

Maeve's Point of View

Chaos was the default state of the Lynch household.
Moments of peace, when they came, were short-lived – just brief pauses between the inevitable.
So when my uncle broke his sobriety again last night, I wasn't even surprised.

I'd seen it coming – little signs, subtle shifts.
The way he got restless, the way his patience thinned until it disappeared completely.
The way the house felt heavier, like the walls were holding their breath.
Then came the inevitable: the smell of whiskey on his breath, the sharp edge in his voice, the quiet before the storm.

There was a moment where I thought maybe it wouldn't escalate.
Maybe this time, he would just pass out at the kitchen table, drown himself in the bottle instead of taking it out on me.

But it never worked like that.
Glass shattered.
A door slammed.

The first hit knocked me sideways.
The second had me seeing stars.
I stopped counting after that.

When I could, I locked myself in my room and waited for him to burn out.

I was grateful, at least, that I'd managed to get Shannon out of the way first.
Joey was staying over at Aoife's, which meant his room was empty, so I told Shannon to sleep there for the night.

Now, curled up in bed, every inch of me ached.

I once again all black and blue.

I took a deep breath and wondered not for the first time how different my life would have been if the car accident had never happened.
Would I still live in Dublin?
What kind of person would Clara have become?
Would I have been studying to get my driver's license now?

I shook those thoughts away before the grief managed to consume me.

Instead, I took out two pills from my bottom drawer, hidden beneath my shoes, and swallowed them dry.

Then I laid back, closed my eyes, and waited for the pain to disappear.

The next morning, I was still groggy when I woke up.
I glanced at my alarm clock.
12:17
Well, I needed to get up I had to be at Johnny's house by two.

I grabbed the first clean set of clothes I could find – black leggings, an oversized hoodie, and thick socks.
Comfort over everything.
The last thing I needed was tight fabric pressing against my bruises.

I went into the bathroom to wash my face and glanced at the mirror.
Things could be worse, I thought. At least he left my face alone this time.

My ribs had, once again, took the brunt of his fury.
They ached and breathing too deeply hurt.

Once I was done, I headed downstairs where Shannon was eating a slice of toast.
She took a good look at me, but didn't say anything.

"Is that your breakfast?" I asked, breaking the silence.

"Lunch, actually. It's not morning anymore." She replied. "Where are you going?"

"Johnny Kavanagh's house." I said, reaching for an apple from the fruit bowl. "We have a school project to do."

Shannon frowned. "When will you be back?"

"Tomorrow."

Her frown deepened. "Maeve."

"What?" I bit into the apple, acting like I didn't already know what she was about to say.

"You know he's on the warpath again."

I didn't have to ask who he was.

"He made it known last night when he used me as a punching bag." I said flatly. "I have to do this project. Otherwise, I'm stuck doing extra assignments for the rest of the term."