The room glitches. Flickers. One blink, and I’m against the wall again, his palm slamming into my chest, shoving me hard. Plaster cracks. My lungs seize. His mouth moves, and all I see is teeth, words I can’t stop, can’t silence.
I try again to shout, to beg, to say anything, but there’s nothing.
Only silence.
My voice is gone.
It’s been stolen.
“Pathetic. You’re lucky I put up with you.” His voice swells, booming, then distorts, stretching until it’s unrecognizable. The words warp into a screech that drills through my skull.
Everything loops—faster, louder—until I can’t tell one moment from the next.
Then the mug.
Ceramic white, flashing in his hand. Bright in the dark. My heart stops.
He throws it—
The world slows.
It spins end over end, a blur, an inevitability.
I flinch, squeeze my eyes shut, waiting for the impact, waiting for it to cut me open—
Air slams back into my lungs in a ragged gasp. My chest heaves, ribs aching. Sweat clings to every inch of me. My throat burns with the scream I couldn’t make. My skin crawls with phantom nails, the bruising grip on my thigh still pulsing.
I tell myself to move, to get up, but my body won’t listen. The exhaustion I feel is in the marrow of my bones. I promised Abbie and Ciarán pancakes this morning. I was supposed to be up already.Instead, I’m flat on my back, shaking like I’ve run miles.
The buzz of my phone on the nightstand jars me. My chest still heaves, sweat dripping down my neck. My hand trembles when I reach for it, clumsy enough that I almost drop it.
Unknown:Hey Gabe, it’s Noah. I got your number from Aiden.
I stare at the screen, pulse jackhammering. Seeing his name makes my throat close up. My thumb hovers, retreats, hovers again. Just say hi. Easy enough. Another buzz while my thumb’s suspended above the screen.
Unknown: Noah Richards. You might remember me as the kid that licked all the icing off your 13th birthday cake before anyone had a slice…
Before I’ve even finished reading the message, another pops up.
Unknown: But it was definitely a totally different kid that threw up all over your parents’ house that day. I wouldn’t do a thing like that.
A shaky laugh leaves me. Maybe he hasn’t changed. I click into contact details and add his name.
Me:Hi Noah.
The dots appear almost immediately.
Noah:Aiden mentioned it might be okay for me to crash in your spare room for a while. Is that actually good with you?
I read it once. Twice. A third time, like the words might change. My fingers flex uselessly against the phone. My body jitters with leftover adrenaline, making my muscles twitch.
Say no. Say yes. Saysomething.
Me:Yeah. It’s fine.
The words are a reflex, and the second they’re gone, I’m desperate to drag them back. Say something that doesn’t sound so clipped. But it’s too late. Dots appear again.
Noah: You sure? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.
