She coaxes me to stand, and when I do, I look at Cian, who sheepishly averts his gaze. But this isn’t his fault. I don’t blame him for wanting revenge. That’s all I’ve sought for my entire life. But now I have something more.
A family.
Cian lets the rope go slowly, and Sean collapses onto his front. He’s out cold. He’s a mess, and I wish the sight made me happy, but it doesn’t.
“I’ll meet you inside.” She knows I need time.
I kiss Cami on her forehead, still repulsed at myself for accidentally striking her in my rage.
When she leaves, I exhale deeply. “Can I nick a feg?”
Cian digs into his pocket and offers me the box and a lighter.
With bloodied fingers, I reach for them and go outside. I need fresh air; I need to feel it on my heated cheeks to remind me that I’m still alive.
My hands shake as I place the cigarette into my mouth, cupping it to light it. Once the nicotine hits my lungs, I sigh because it helps take the edge off. It’s dusk, which has me wondering just how long I tortured Sean for.
I lost myself, and if it wasn’t for Cami, I think I would be gone for good.
“Why is yer face painted like that?”
Shay’s voice catches me off guard. I don’t want him seeing me like this, so I quickly turn my back to him and butt out my smoke. But I should know that isn’t a deterrent for him.
“A’ll be inside in a minute. D’ya need anythin’?”
“Where’s Mummy?”
I want to lie to him, to save him the pain I’ve experienced firsthand. But look where that got me.
“Is she dead?”
Exhaling deeply, I turn back around to face him. His inquisitive eyes search mine, and he doesn’t seem bothered that half my face is painted like the Grim Reaper, and I’m slathered in blood.
“Why would ya think that?” I ask, worried he saw what Liam did.
“’Cause she told me that if she ever left me, it was ’cause she was in heaven, with the angels. But my angel on earth would look after me when she’s gone. I think Cami is my angel.”
My heart clenches at his innocence. “Aye, she’s both of ours.”
Shay nods, mulling over what I shared. “Am I gonna live with you now?”
“How would ye feel about that? Livin’ with Cami and me?”
“What about Sean?”
I pale because if he knew where Sean was now and what I did to him, his answer may change.
“Would ye like to live with him?”
Shay purses his lips as if contemplating both options. “He’s a nice man. He made Mummy smile.”
He did?
Shay’s admission unsettles me because I never factored him into my revenge plans. By killing Sean, I’m taking away his grandfather, someone who Shay clearly likes. But Sean is nothing but poison, and I know sooner or later, he will infect my son.
“But I think I’d like to live with youse.”
I know Shay and I have a lot of catching up to do, but this is progress.
He cocks his head, examining my face. I wonder what he sees. “I like yer face.”
“Which side?” I ask, startled that he isn’t afraid.
“Both sides. Yer half monster, half man.”
Such a childlike way to explain things, but the description is perfect.
“I’m only a monster when I have to be,” I explain, hoping he understands.
And what he says next proves he’s far wiser than his young years.
“Yer a monster to keep the monsters away. Maybe one day I can paint my face too?”
Shaking my head, I drop to a squat in front of him. “Naw, son, I wear this face so you don’t have to. It’s my job to keep the monsters away.”
“But what’s my job then?” he asks, working his bottom lip.
Shay needs to know where he’ll fit in. He thinks if he has a job, he’ll be an integral part of the family. He needs to know that he’s safe, and that Cami and I will never send him away. Losing Aoife will change him forever, and he’s afraid to love. I once was too.
Gripping the back of his neck lovingly, I smile. “I just want ye to be happy. That’s it. I want ya to be happy for yer mum ’cause that’s all she ever wanted for ya. Honor her by livin’ the life she couldn’t.”
Tears well, but Shay sniffs them away. My courage, my stubbornness runs through his veins, and I couldn’t be prouder. This is my son, a piece of me. I’ll do everything to protect him—which is what makes the decision to kill Sean easier.
I may hate like he does. I may thrive in the bloodshed and violence like him, but when it comes to love and honor, we are worlds apart. I needed almost killing him to see that.
Cami and Shay are right—I’m half man, half monster, split right down the middle…and I will need both to help me survive this.
Dawn is my favorite time of the day. A new day brings new hope, and after last night, that’s all Punky and I have—hope that we get out of this alive.
I’ve seen Punky furious before, but last night was something else. For the first time ever—he scared me. I was terrified he was lost to me for good. He snapped, allowing me to see that he has this blinding rage inside him.
And I don’t think it’ll ever go away.
I thought once this was over, he could begin to heal, but too much has happened—I see that now. Sometimes, we don’t heal; we just learn to deal with the demons trapped inside us.
Even if Punky wants out of this life, I don’t think that he can. This is what he knows. This is who he is. And it’s who I love.
Most would run for the hills, but I’m not most. We’ve come too far to give up now, which is why I’m nursing my second cup of coffee as I haven’t been to bed.
Once Punky and Shay came home, Punky showered and went to sleep. He wouldn’t even look at me, and I know that’s because he’s ashamed of what he did. If he had hit me on purpose, this day would go an entirely different way, but it’s because of last night that I’ve done something which I hope will help Punky heal.
When I hear the freezer door open, followed by ice cubes being dropped into a glass, I quickly go inside. Punky is in the kitchen about to pour himself some vodka. He’s obviously run out of whiskey. He pauses when we lock eyes.
At least he can look at me today.
“Yer lip,” he says, clenching the bottle so hard I’m afraid it’ll break. “Does it hurt?”
“I’m fin—”
He doesn’t let me finish as he storms over, gripping my chin between his fingers. He gently turns my face from side to side so he can see the damage.
It hurts like a motherfucker because Punky can throw a mean punch, but it wasn’t a direct hit as he struck me when I attempted to hold him back. My top lip is split open, but it looks a lot worse than it is. That doesn’t make a difference to Punky, though.
All he sees is the bad in himself—never the good—which outweighs it.
“I want to cut off my fucking hands,” he snarls, gently stroking over my cheek.
“Enough.” I grip his hand in mine. “It was an accident, and I don’t want to talk about it ever again. Okay?”
He shakes his head, his eyes still glued to my lip.