“I always wanted to touch this hair,” he slurred, releasing my neck, only to roughly twist my hair around his fist until the nape of my neck burned from the pain. “Smooth like silk. Mm. Fucking lovely.”
“Please.” My stomach heaved and I gagged and gawked in disgust. “Let me go!”
His hand moved to my knickers and he roughly dragged the fabric down, while keeping a death grip on my hair. “Open your legs.”
“Drop dead!”
Hooking an arm around my waist, he forced me back up. “Open your fucking legs, cunt!”
“No – no!” I choked out, repulsed by the feel of his hands on my body, as he pushed his knees between my legs, forcing them open, leaving me vulnerable and exposed to him. “D-don’t do this!”
I could feel the rough fabric of his jeans against my bare skin, and then the sound of a zip unfastening filled my ears.
“Don’t,” I cried, bucking to break free. “Don’t touch me —”
The sound of the front door slamming followed by a familiar voice roaring, “Get the fuck off her!” had me collapsing in a heap against the table.
His hands were gone not a second later, and I crumbled to the floor, shaking violently, as I scrambled to pull my underwear and sweats back into place.
Through my tears, I could see Joey and his father fighting, smashing and crashing into the counters, as they literally tore strips out of one another.
They were shouting, but I couldn’t hear a word of it.
The sound of ringing in my ears was deafening me, as I trembled violently, feeling violated.
“Aoife,” Mrs. Lynch sniffled, eyes wide in horror, as she hurried towards me. “Are you alright?”
No, I wasn’t alright.
How the fuck could I be alright?
Her husband had been seconds away from raping me.
“Don’t touch me!” I screamed when her hand landed on my shoulder. Scrambling to my feet, I backed up as far away from these people as I could physically get. “Stay the fuck away from me, all of you!”
Unfortunately for me, the way out of this hellhole was on the other side of the kitchen, and while I was desperate to get out, I couldn’t make my legs move, because moving forward meant passing him.
“Molloy.” That was Joey. He was standing in front of me, with his hands on my cheeks, green eyes wild and frantic, and I was having none of it. “Aoife, baby—”
“Don’t touch me,” I choked out, yanking my face free from his touch. “Just get me out of here.”
“Aoife.” He moved for me again, and over his shoulder I could see the crumbled heap that was his father, twisting and groaning on the floor. “Please, just…don’t…I’m so fucking sorry.”
“I said get me out of here, Joey!” I screamed, dragging my hands through my hair, as I tore my eyes off him and forced myself to look at his son. “I want to leave now!”
My gaze once again flicked to the monster, who was now sitting up, while his wife held a damp tea towel to his cheek.
Was she serious?
Did she not see what he just tried to do to me?
“Get me the fuck away from these people, Joey,” I spat, glaring at my boyfriend. “Now.”
Heaving out a shuddering breath, Joey nodded and wrapped an arm around my shoulders, blocking my view of his father, as he led me out of the house.
The minute I was outside, I shrugged out of his hold and rushed for my car, gasping in mouthfuls of the cool night air, as I tried to make sense of what the hell had just happened.
“Aoife.”
“Don’t!” I strangled out, pushing away from him. “Don’t talk. Just…just take me home.”
I was reeling.
My mind was blank.
My body was coiled tight with tension.
Joey opened the passenger door and I collapsed into the seat, breathing hard and fast, as my entire framed rattled and shook.
Coming around to the driver’s side, he climbed in and looked at me with anguished eyes. “Molloy, I’m so—”
“No.” Trying and failing to fasten my seatbelt, I gave up and bit back the urge to scream, pressing my fingers to my temples. “Just drive.”
Wordlessly, Joey reached over and fastened my seatbelt for me before starting the engine.
With his hands rigid on the steering wheel, he bowed his head and sucked in several deep breaths before returning his focus to the road ahead and pulling off.
Biting down on my fist to stop myself from screaming, I tucked my hair behind my ear and then shuddered when I remembered the feel of his hand knotted roughly in it.
Striving for calm and coming up empty, my entire body buzzed with this strange, anxious energy, and I wasn’t sure if it was my fear, my anger, or sheer adrenalin causing the upset.
Either way, I couldn’t seem to control my limbs.
They had a mind of their own.
When Joey took a left at the end of the road, instead of the usual right turn that led to my estate, I started to get panicky.
When he pulled up outside the Ballylaggin Garda Station a few minutes later, the panic I’d been feeling quickly shifted into a full-blown anxiety attack. “What are you doing?”
He killed the engine and stared out the windscreen ahead of him, hands still wrapped tightly around the wheel.
“What are you doing?” I repeated when he didn’t respond. My heart raced wildly in my chest. “Joey?” My eyes were wild with panic. “Take me home.”
“I can’t take you home, Molloy,” he finally said, and his voice was barely audible. Keeping his eyes trained on the building that we were parked in front of, he slowly shook his head. “I need to make this right.”
“What do you mean?” I demanded, voice cracking. “I’m not going in there, Joey. I won’t, okay! I just want to go home and take a shower.”
“We have to go in there,” he replied, unfastening his seatbelt, and reaching for his car door. “He’s not getting away with putting his hands on you.”
“Don’t!” Reaching across him, I grabbed the door and slammed it shut. “No. I don’t want that. I just want to go home, okay? Just home. That’s it.”
“Molloy.” Joey exhaled a pained groan and turned to look at me. The pain in his eyes, the absolute fucking devastation, seemed to mirror exactly how I felt. “He tried to rape…” his voice broke, and he shook his head before quickly looking away. He dragged in a pained breath, hand slamming against the steering wheel. “He tried to do that to you.”
“I am not going in there,” I warned, eyes filling with tears. “I am not.”
“You have to tell them what he—”
“No, all I have to do is go home,” I cut him off and screamed, skin crawling with unease and shame. “That’s all I want you to do for me. That’s it. Just take me the fuck home.”
“Aoife, please.”
“This is not your call to make!” I screamed, pulling on my hair in sheer frustration. “You don’t get to make this decision, Joey. I do. This is my choice, my decision, and I choose not to go in there, okay? I choose to forget about it. That’s what I fucking choose. All I want to do is go home. I don’t want anyone to know about it, okay? I just want to go home, erase it from my mind, and forget that I ever stepped foot inside of that house!”