Alongside the mattress was a metal spoon with some dark, syrupy looking stains, a lighter, and a tiny plastic bag with some brownish powder inside.
Strewn on top of the filthy mattress was my boyfriend, with his eyes rolling back in his head, and a needle dangling from the crook of his arm.
My heart, the same heart I didn’t think could be broken any more than it already had, cracked into a bazillion more pieces.
“Joe.” My hand sprang up to cover my mouth, as I battled with the image my mind was assuring me wasn’t a nightmare, but reality. “Joey!”
Nothing.
"We were supposed to be spending the day together," I cried, stumbling towards him. The smell of his sorrow was all around me and I honestly felt like I was going to die of a broken heart as I felt myself hemorrhage from the inside.
Kicking the contraband away from his body, like it would somehow make everything better, I knelt down beside him and undid the tie that was cutting off the circulation in his arm. “Joe, can you hear me?”
Nothing.
Sniffling back a sob, I gingerly reached out and pulled the syringe out of his arm before throwing it at the other side of the room. “Joe?”
Soft groaning was the only response I got.
"Get up," I begged, pulling on his shoulders in my pathetic attempt to get him up.
“Molloy.”
“It’s me,” I cried, tears falling fast now, as I managed to pull him into a sitting position. “I’m here, Joe.”
“Aoife.”
“You’ve got to come with me, okay?” Sniffling back another sob, I managed to get him to drag himself to his feet. “I’m going to take you someplace safe, okay?”
“Molloy.”
“I’ve got you.” Hooking one arm around his back, I draped his arm over my shoulder and unsteadily dragged him towards the door. “It’s okay, Joe. Just lean on me. I’ve got you.”
How I managed to get us both down the staircase in one piece was beyond me, but I didn’t have time to think about it, because Shane and his goons were waiting for us in the hallway, which put me even more on edge than I already was.
“You know, you should really let him sleep it off,” Shane offered with a snicker. “Poor lad can’t even get high without the missus busting his bollocks.”
“For fuck’s sake, Holland, don’t be a dick. Can’t you see the poor girl is in a bad way over her lad,” another much bigger, much older, bearded man, with a distinctive Belfast accent said. He then walked over to where I was attempting to hold up a semi-comatose Joey, and hoisted him upright. “Where’s your car, love?” he asked. “I’ll carry him over to it for you.”
As much as I wanted to tell them all to go to hell, I needed the help.
“It’s outside,” I sniffled, and then moved for the door, only to quickly glance over my shoulder to make sure the man was following me with Joey.
Thankfully, he was.
Hurrying over to my car, I quickly unlocked the passenger door and swung it open.
“W-will he b-be okay?” I heard myself ask, feeling acutely small and young in that moment. “Should I t-take him t-to the h-hospital?”
Here I was, on Christmas Eve night, bawling like a baby on the side of the road, while some beefed-up gangster put my boyfriend in the car for me.
Jesus Christ…
“No, love, he’ll be grand and so he will,” the big man assured me as he settled Joey into the passenger seat. He even went as far as fastening his seatbelt around him. “Take him someplace safe and let him sleep it off.”
“Was that…” Shaking my head, I exhaled a ragged breath and strangled out, “Heroin?”
The man didn’t answer.
“What do I do?” Another harsh cry escaped me. “How do I h-help him?”
“He’ll be grand,” the man told me. “He’s not too far gone to be pulled back. And with a lass like you in his corner, he’ll come right. Don’t you worry.”
I stared up at him, feeling a wave of anger, curiosity, and gratitude wash over me. “Why did you help me tonight?”
“Because I was your lad here once upon a time, and I wish somebody had helped my wife before I became what I am, and she became my ex.”
And then he turned around and walked back inside the house, leaving me alone with Joey.
Hiccupping out another sob, I rounded the car and climbed into the driver’s seat. Shaking like a leaf, I slowly fastened my seatbelt and stuck the key in the ignition.
“She’s pregnant,” Joey whispered from beside me, lips mashing together clumsily.
“Who?”
“My mother.”
Jesus.
I was so reeling that I honestly didn’t know what to say.
Groaning in pain, he slurred. “I’m…sorry, Molloy. So fucking…sorry…”
“I know you are,” I sniffled, cranking the engine. “I know, Joe.”
“I…love…” I felt my body tense when he clumsily reached across the car and tried to pat my thigh. “You…Molloy…”
Tell me when you’re sober,” I replied, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “It won’t count tonight.”
“Why won’t it count, Molloy?”
“Because you won’t remember it,” I whispered sadly.
REALITY CHECKS AND DAWNING AWARENESS
DECEMBER 25TH 2004
JOEY
When I opened my eyes, it was to a room full of mid-morning sunshine and a pillow of blonde hair in my face.
Naked as the day I was born, I had my arm thrown over a blonde who had her equally naked back to me.
Pain, undiluted and toxic, instantly flooded my chest, seeping through every vein and artery in my body until I could feel nothing but misery.
Darkness enveloped me.
Sucking in a pained breath when the familiar pang of hunger clawed at my throat, I tightened my fists, locking my muscles into place,
My hunger wasn’t for food.
It was for heroin.
Disgusted, I thought about how far I had fallen.
How I had let myself become my father.
I was poisoned on the inside just like he was.
I couldn’t get beyond it.
This hereditary weakness handed down to me by the person I hated most in this world would forever eat me alive from the inside out.
Addiction had settled deep inside of me like a leach attaching itself to a blood-filled carcass.
Frozen to the spot, and with my stomach twisted up in knots, I desperately tried to rake through my hazed thoughts, until the familiar scent of her shampoo flooded my senses.
Molloy…
Heaving a huge sigh of relief, I shifted closer to her warm body and pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder.
She sniffled in response.
I froze.
She sniffled again.
Ah fuck.
She choked out a sob.
The last few days’ events came trickling back to me, bit by bit, and my blood ran cold as shame enveloped me in its familiar embrace.
No.
No.
Fuck no…
“Molloy.” My voice was strangled and torn. “Baby, I’m so fucking—“
“You’re not good for me,” she whispered brokenly, clinging to the hand I had wrapped around her. “I get that now.” Her fingers dug into my forearm. “But it doesn’t stop my heart from loving you, or my head from wanting you.”