SKYFALL, Johnny Kavanagh

Breaking down walls

Maeve's Point of View

The walls were thin, the air thick with cigarette smoke and something worse – something sour and heavy that settled in my throat like it was trying to choke me.
I knew the faded wallpaper that peeled at the edges, the old, stained carpet that never quite looked clean no matter how many times it was scrubbed.

I knew the sound of the clock ticking in the kitchen, the low murmur of the TV left on to drown out the rest of the house.

And I knew what was coming.

The first crash came from down the hall, sharp and sudden, followed by the sound of something – someone – hitting the floor.
Then I heard her scream.

A second later, Joey was moving.
I turned, heart hammering, watching as he stood, fists clenched, jaw tight.

I took a step, ready to move with him.
But before either of us could make it to the door, Darren was there.
Blocking the way.

Joey bristled. "Get out of the way."

Darren didn't move. "You can't do anything."

Another crash.
Another scream.

Joey shoved forward, but Darren caught him, gripping his shoulder tight. "You go in there, he'll kill you."

His voice was calm.
Like he'd already made peace with the fact that this was happening.
Like this was normal.

Joey shook him off. "I don't care."

But Darren grabbed him again, harder this time, his knuckles white. "You should."

Joey's chest heaved, his fists trembling at his sides.
And then I saw it.
The brief flicker of something in his eyes.

Not fear.
Not anger.
Resignation.

The screaming had stopped.
The silence that followed was worse.
Joey took a step back, breathing hard.
Darren let go.
And none of us moved.

We just stood there, frozen in the hallway, staring at a door we wouldn't open.
A door we couldn't open.
Because Darren was right.

There was nothing we could do.
There was never anything we could do.

Then I gasped, my whole body jerking awake.

The first thing I noticed when I woke up was the blanket draped over me.
I didn't remember getting it.
I didn't even remember lying down properly.

But it was there – soft, warm, tucked over my legs like someone had put it there for me.
Like he had.

Johnny was still on the other end of the couch, his breathing slow, steady.

I shifted, pushing the blanket off as quietly as I could, trying to sit up without waking–

A sharp inhale.
A shift of movement.

Johnny stirred instantly, his head jerking slightly as he blinked, muscles tensing like he wasn't fully awake yet but already on alert.

Light sleeper.

His gaze found mine in the dim light, unfocused for a second before sharpening.

I froze.

He didn't say anything at first, just took me in, his expression unreadable.
Then, voice still rough with sleep, he muttered. "Another nightmare?"