Releasing 10 (Boys of Tommen, #6)

by Chloe Walsh

None of the lads in our class could understand why someone like Johnny would want to hang out with Gibsie. I could. Gibsie was the greatest friend a person could have. He was loyal, trustworthy, had the best personality in the whole school, and really fucking cared about the people he loved. Feely and I both knew that friends like Gerard Gibson didn’t come around too often, and I was glad Johnny realized it, too. I would never say it out loud, because I didn’t want to embarrass the lad, but I was thrilled he had finally found his wings. He would always have me in his corner, no matter what, but seeing him making his way at school, and making friends for himself, made me so fucking proud. Because Johnny Kavanagh was his friend. Yeah, the four of us all hung out at lunch together, and Feely and I considered Johnny our friend, too, but everyone knew where Cap’s loyalties rested. With our Gibs.

STOPPPP, IM BAWLING MY EYES OUT

Good or bad. No matter how long something lasted, it would never be permanent. I knew this, and still I let myself slip into a false sense of security.

“I want you to overstep,” she pleaded, wrapping her arms around my neck so tightly, I felt slightly dizzy. “Whenever Mam gets sick, Caoimhe always gets to have him over.” She choked out a pained sob. “It’ll happen again this time. Dad will leave and I’ll be left alone.” “No, it won’t because I won’t let that happen,” I promised, holding her close. “She has him, but you have me.”

There was a fire poker within reaching distance of my right hand, and I wouldn’t think twice about shoving it up his hole if he started his shit. Just one word. That’s all I needed.

He knew I had taken his measure. I could see it in the nervous way he turned away whenever he dared to look in my direction and found me staring right back at him. I could smell the uncertainty rolling off him in waves. It also didn’t hurt that I was closing in on him in the height department. He was eighteen, while I wasn’t even thirteen yet, and he barely had an inch on me.

“What the fuck is your problem with me, Biggs?” he demanded then, losing his cool. “I’ve never bothered ya, but you’re hell-bent on making trouble for me every chance you get.” “I don’t like you,” I replied simply. “I can’t stand you, truth be told. The way you look, the way you speak, the way you think, the way you drive, the way you conduct yourself. Everything about you disgusts me.” Leaning back in my chair, I gave him a harsh appraisal. “And that’s not taking into account that you’re a sadistic, not to mention pathetic, bully who gets off on tormenting a child who had to watch his father and sister drown in front of him.” I narrowed my eyes at him. “I was there that day on the boat, asshole, and I was at the funeral, too. I remember everything. I especially remember the smirk you had on your face when my friend was saying goodbye to his father, who, just so happens to be my godfather.”

“Jesus, you’re even more pathetic than I realized.” “Oh yeah?” Sitting forward, he rested his elbows on his thighs and narrowed his green eyes in challenge. “Well, I could tell you a thing or two that would wipe that smug look off your face.” Grinning, I mirrored his actions by sitting forward and resting my arms on my thighs. “Go for it.” Mark opened his mouth to respond, only to think better of it at the final second and shake his head instead. “Nah. You’re not worth the effort.”

Go fuck yourself Mark

“You think you’re so fucking smart.” He seethed, balling his hands into fists. “You mark my words, Biggs, one day in the future, when you’re all grown-up, I’m going to hunt you down, and I’m going to put a bullet in your head.” “Oh yeah?” Still smiling, I locked eyes on him and warned, “Or maybe, one day in the future, when I’m all grown-up, I’ll hunt you down and put a bullet in yours.”

Do it Hugh, if you do it you will become my favorite character

Everything was back. My mother’s cancer. My sister’s boyfriend. My father’s bad mood. The scary lady’s voice in my head. The monster in my nightmares. The urge to slit my wrists. Everything.

When Hugh was around, everything in my life stabilized. It was as if he held my world in his hands and forced it to stop spinning, giving me time to catch my breath and get back up on my feet. School nights were the worst, when I had to sleep in my own bed, without him there to keep the darkness away. To stop the nightmares.

“I’m going to miss you,” Hugh told me, and hearing him say those words made my heart crack. Because I didn’t want to go. If I had the choice, I’d remain right here in Ballylaggin with Hugh. Not go halfway around the world with Caoimhe and Mark. I knew that’s exactly what would happen. Dad would spend all his time at the hospital with Mam, and I would be left with them.

“Well, if she doesn’t hurry the hell up and master it, I’m going to Van Gogh myself.” “Don’t be so dramatic,” I chuckled, shaking my head. “Eejit.” “You’ll see drama when I chop my fucking ears off,” Feely warned, tossing his controller aside. “There’s no point. I can’t concentrate on the game.”

“Your sister ruined that film for me. I couldn’t even enjoy Rose’s tits in peace.” “Lad.” I threw my head back and laughed. “She wasn’t that special.” “You’re mental,” he argued, narrowing his eyes. “That woman was pure perfection in the film. Every part of her. Especially her hair.” I snorted. “Especially her tits, you mean.” Feely grinned. “Those, too.” “You know who has great tits?” I mused. “Sharon Stone.” “True,” he replied in a thoughtful tone, clearly weighing up both options. “But you can’t beat a redhead with a perky rack.”

At least we know that his type did not change

“Come on, Feely, you have to admit the blond wins every time.” “Like hell she does,” he grumbled. “Kate Winslet as a redhead is unquestionably stunning.” “Fine, you take Kate, and I’ll take Sharon.” “Fine.” He nodded in acceptance. “I will.”

“I really am, but I’m going to throttle that curly-haired menace!” Snickering, I followed him, knowing full well he would do the complete opposite. Claire had all the lads wrapped around her baby finger. Of course, they’d all rather swallow glass than admit it, but they were kittens when it came to my sister.

“I don’t want to be alive without you.” “Don’t say that, Liz,” I warned, feeling my heart crack clean open in my chest. “Don’t you ever say that again.” Tears streamed down her cheeks. “It’s the truth.” “If anything ever happened to you, it would destroy me,” I admitted, unable to make the tremble in my voice. “You are my whole world, Lizzie Young, so don’t you dare talk about not being alive.”

“Are you completely mental?” That was Caoimhe. “I’m not going anywhere with you, you fucking pedophile!” “Don’t call me that.” “You raped your stepbrother,” Caoimhe screamed at the top of her lungs. “You’re an adult. Gibsie’s a child. You defiled his body. I saw you with my own eyes. That’s called being a pedophile!”

“There’s nothing to talk about because I see you, Mark. I finally see what you are. You’re a monster in disguise!” “…I finally see what you are…” “…You’re a monster in disguise…” “…You’re a monster…” Eyes widening in horror, I gripped my duvet and pulled it over my head. Monster. He was a monster. The monster was real. Mark was the monster.

the trembling body that welded itself to mine didn’t belong to my sister. It belonged to… “Gibs?” Confused, I tried to sit up to switch on my lamp, but the way he was clinging to me made that impossible. “What happened, lad?” “Hughie.” Sobbing uncontrollably, my oldest friend in the world locked his arms and legs around me. “Hughie.” “I’m here, lad,” I tried to coax, wrapping an arm around him. “Where’s Caoimhe? Does she know you’re over here?” Heaving out a choked sob, he shook his head. “N-no.”

You have us. My family is your family, too.” Clenching my eyes shut, I squeezed the shit out of my friend, desperate to soothe his pain. “And you have me, Gibs. You will always have me.”

“Where are we going, Mam? What’s going on?” “Oh, love, I’m so sorry,” she choked out a gut-wrenching sob. “Caoimhe Young passed away tonight.”

“What the fuck did you do to my sister…” “Liz?” “You can’t keep us locked in here forever…” “It’s me, Hugh.” “She’s a child, you monster. She’s a fucking baby and you put a baby inside her…” “Can you hear me, Liz?” “He’s a monster, Lizzie. You need to get out…” “I’m right here, okay?” “I’m so sorry I didn’t protect you both…” “I won’t leave you on your own, Liz, I promise.” “Run, Lizzie, and don’t look back…”

On the night of April 24, 2000, Caoimhe Young left her family home in the middle of the night, drove to the Ballylaggin footbridge, and took her own life. None of it made sense. Why Caoimhe threw herself into that river.

Why the letter she left for Catherine didn’t sound like her. Why Liz hadn’t reached out to me once in those three weeks. Why all my text messages had gone unanswered.

There were so many unanswered questions, and Mark’s version of events was all anyone had to go on because his girlfriend was dead and my girlfriend wasn’t talking. Lizzie hadn’t spoken since the night Caoimhe died.

“I love you,” I whispered, resting my hand on her cheek. “I’m always going to be here for you.” Liz didn’t respond with words, but when she placed her trembling hand on my cheek, I knew she was listening. She could hear me. She was still in there.

I turned to see Gibsie sit on the swing next to mine. “So I’m just going to sit here with you, okay?” Help me, I wanted to scream, you’re the only one who can. My voice betrayed me like it had when I was a child. Nothing came out.

“I have to,” she choked out, holding me tightly. “If anything happens to me, Liz, and I don’t get out, I want you to get this note to Gibsie. Can you do that for me?” Sniffling, she pulled back to look in my eyes. “I want you to tell him everything you told me tonight, and then I want you both to go to the police…”

If Lizzie knew what happened to Gibs then why does she blame him and act out towards him???

“You know you were holding your sister’s killer, don’t ya?” he mused, taking the seat on the swing next to mine. “It’s his fault this happened.”

Get out of here you piece of shit

“And what’ll happen to your little boyfriend if you even think about telling lies about me like Gibsie did?” “No!” I clenched my eyes shut. “Please don’t hurt him.” “Say it!” He squeezed my throat tighter. “Where will lover boy end up?” “In there,” I strangled out, body growing limp against the railing at my back. “With her…”

Mark killed her didn't he?!

“You know you’re unstable, don’t you?” he said then in a sad tone. “Your mother can’t escape death forever. One of these days, it’s going to catch up with her,” he told me. “And when she dies, you’ll be alone, with no sister or mother to love you.”

“Everyone already thinks you’re insane, so no need to fuel the fire with crazy ramblings—not that anyone would believe you, either way.” I knew he was looking at me. I could feel his eyes burning the side of my face, but I didn’t dare turn my head.

“I’ll be leaving town soon, munchkin,” he told me. “Once I finish my leaving cert next month, I’m leaving Ireland. I’m going to do a bit of traveling before college.”

Hope you die on the way there (I know he won't but one can only hope)

“I’m going to miss our special visits.” My skin crawled, while my stomach heaved and my mind screamed in protest. No! Don’t think about it. “I wish we could have another night together, but I’m afraid the last one will have to do.” Don’t let yourself remember. “I’ll take you with me, though. Wherever I end up, I’ll always have your pictures.”

He's so disgusting, omg

“A girl never forgets her first.” Let yourself go. Just drift off. “And I’ll always be your first everything, munchkin.” Up, up, and away.

EWWWWWWWWW GET OUT

Caoimhe Young would be laid to rest after twelve o’clock mass, in the adjoining graveyard of St. Patrick’s Church. Forever eighteen.

“Oh, yeah? Well, I find that really hard to believe given the circumstances,” I shot back, wrapping a protective arm around Liz. “I mean, it’s not like you have a good track record of being there when you’re needed.”

“Well, I was with your girlfriend on multiple occasions down through the years when you messed her around and fucked with her head.” Wholly enraged and unable to contain myself, I fired from all cylinders and let him have it. “You are incapable of understanding anyone because in order to do that, you would have to possess a conscience and that’s something we both know you don’t have.”

“Yeah, you did a great job of looking after your girlfriend when you ferried her off in the middle of her leaving cert.” I narrowed my eyes in disgust. “Boyfriend of the year in the making.”

“Kind of like how you walked over Caoimhe?” I shot back. “You trampled all over that girl like she was a fucking doormat, and you didn’t think twice about it. So don’t you stand here and tell me that my girlfriend needs anything from a piece of shit like you when you both know you are the worst type of cancer that ever entered her family.”

“Ignore him,” I told Liz, who was trembling violently beside me. “Remember what I told you about bullies?” I added in a gentler tone, as I helped her climb over the fence, before jumping over it myself. “Bullies feed on fear, and if you don’t feed them, they starve.” “And die.” My head snapped in her direction. Two words. She spoke two words. Finally.

“That’s right,” I agreed, draping an arm around her shoulders, while mentally instructing myself to not react. “They die.” “Hugh?” Liz stopped walking and turned to look at me. “Don’t die, okay?” “I’m not dying, Liz.”

“Do you believe in heaven, Liz?” “No.” She shook her head. “Not anymore.” “How come?” “Because I don’t believe in anything anymore,” she replied, never taking her eyes off the daisy chain she was making. “I used to, I think, but not anymore.” She shook her head again. “Maybe I’m just broken inside.” “There’s nothing broken in you, Liz,” I replied gruffly. “You’re just sad. It’s okay to be sad.”

“But I’m not just sad,” she whispered, crushing the daisy chain in her small fist. “I’m angry.” “That’s okay, too.” “Is it?” Sniffling, she turned to look at me, making my stomach twist up in knots, when her sad, blue eyes locked on mine. “Am I okay?” “Maybe not right now.” My heart cracked when I heard her pain. “But you’ll be okay one day.” “What if I’m not?” She reached up and batted another tear away. “What if I’m never okay again?” “You will be, Liz.”

“But what if I’m not, Hugh?” she choked out, crawling onto my lap. “What happens then?” “Then that’ll be okay, too.” Sitting up, I wrapped her up in my arms and whispered, “Because no matter how happy or sad you feel, I’ll b...

IN MEMORY OF CAOIMHE CATHERINE YOUNG LOVING DAUGHTER, SISTER & FRIEND April 30, 1981–April 24, 2000 FOREVER EIGHTEEN

So I could tell the priest that my sister was in a deep sleep, one that had lasted seven days, but she was awake now, and they needed to let her out of the box. Come on, Caoimhe, we’re running out of time. Hurry up and scream, cry, shout… Anything!

Clasping my hands together tightly, I willed my sister to make a noise to prove to all these people in black clothes that they were mistaken. Her voice. Her eyes. Her smile. Her last moments. No, this couldn’t be it. She didn’t belong in here. My big sister. My only sibling. She was never coming back.

She was in the ground now. The were throwing fistfuls of dirt on top of her, cementing that she wasn’t coming back. This was no mistake. Caoimhe was gone. Forever. The priest told my parents that God had taken my sister’s soul to heaven, but he forgot to mention that Caoimhe had taken my soul with her. I knew she had. There was a piece of me in the ground with her. I could feel it. A hollow, gaping ridge in my chest where she used to be. Where I used to feel.

I didn’t want to feel another hand on my skin ever again. Only this boy. Hugh.