SKYFALL, Johnny Kavanagh

Empty promises

Maeve's Point of View

It had been nearly week.

Six days since the paper came out.
Six days since my stomach turned cold at the sight of that photo.
Six days since I knew, without a doubt, that he would come for me.

It was always a matter of when – not if.
And Friday night had been when.

I'd felt it before it happened.
That strange, bone-deep shift in the air.
A sixth sense, a survival instinct.

I'd felt it in the way Teddy slammed the front door harder than usual.
In the way his boots thudded against the floorboards like warning bells.
In the silence that followed.

And then it happened.

He came into the kitchen already drunk – glassy-eyed, swaying just slightly, the stink of whiskey and bitter rage leaking off him in waves.
The paper was in his hand.
Crumpled.
Torn at the corners.

That goddamn picture.

"You think you're clever, do you?" He'd slurred, waving the paper in my face like it was evidence in a courtroom. "You think this makes you someone?"

I hadn't even replied.
Didn't get the chance.

He'd swung before I could move.

I saw it coming – felt it coming – but I hadn't been fast enough to get Shannon out of the way.
The back of his hand caught her square in the jaw.

She hit the floor hard.
The sound of her skull bouncing off the tiles would haunt me longer than the bruises ever would.

"Shannon." I'd screamed, shoving past him, dropping to my knees beside her, fingers fumbling to check if she was conscious.

"Don't you touch her." He roared, reaching down again, grabbing a handful of my shirt and yanking me back.

The first punch landed against my ribs.
The second—my cheek.

And then he kept going.

All I could focus on was the way Shannon was barely stirring behind me and the sound of Marie's voice screeching from the hallway.

"Teddy. Stop it."

She tried to get between us.
Tried to grab his arm, shove him back.
Tried to be brave.

And he hit her, too.

Just once.
Just enough.

She crumpled sideways, hands protectively over her swollen belly, sobbing into the floor.

That was when he finally stopped.

Not because he felt guilty.
Not because he saw what he'd done.

But because she'd screamed at him to get out – threatened to call the guards, threatened to take the kids and leave, threatened to never let him step foot in the house again.

Bullshit.

I knew it then, even as I lay there gasping, blood dripping from my lip.
She'd cave.
She always did.

She was full of empty promises and false alarms.

Still, Teddy left.

Not because he was afraid of the consequences – but because he wanted to punish her for daring to speak up.

And then, half an hour later, Marie packed a bag and left too.

No note.
No explanation.
No idea where she went.