Binding 13: Boys of Tommen #1
Binding 13: Chapter 24

I always knew when there was a storm brewing at home.

I could always sense it.

It was like a sixth sense of some kind, warning me and alerting my body to danger and pain.

All day during school on Friday, I had the most gut-wrenching feeling of dread lodged in the pit of my stomach.

That sensation of dread followed me all day long, and no amount of deep breathing or calming exercises could shift it from my heart.

It was so severe, so potent and transparent, that I was actually afraid to go home.

Wednesday night’s antics hadn’t helped matters.

It was a night that consisted of my parents screaming at each other so loudly that the Gardaí came to the door, having received an anonymous call about a disturbance of the peace.

My peace.

Because I made the call.

Because I was afraid he would hurt her.

Furious with my mother or not, I couldn’t bear the thought of him knocking her around downstairs while I hid in my bedroom like the coward I was.

Joey was once again staying with Aoife, and I wasn’t nearly big enough or brave enough to save her myself.

Thankfully, my father hadn’t laid a finger on Mam, and once he had convinced the Gards that his wife was having a pregnancy related tantrum, he left for the night.

Of course, he returned yesterday morning with a bunch of flowers and a promise to never do whatever the hell he had done this time again.

It worked.

She hugged him and kissed him, and I was fairly sure that if she wasn’t already pregnant, she would have been after spending the morning locked in their bedroom with him.

I hated her.

Sometimes more than I hated him.

Yesterday was one of those times.

When I returned to school Friday morning, it was with a sore neck and a serious lack of hope.

Oh yeah, because even though Dad and Mam were all loved up again, I was still his favorite target.

Apparently, he still wasn’t over that picture of me with Johnny.

Something I was reminded of late last night when I foolishly made a food run to the kitchen and got tangled up in his whiskey tantrum.

He added fresh bruises to old bruises and I had spent a good portion of the night contemplating the worst possible thoughts.

By the time last class of the day finished, my body was so tightly coiled with tension that I could hardly make my feet walk a straight line from the science building to the main building where I needed to get to.

I knew I had to go back there and the thought was crippling me.

I didn’t want the weekend to come and now it was here, staring me in the face.

It was a terrifying prospect.

I had a horrible, niggling pain in my stomach all day that was bordering on unbearable.

My mind was in such overload, running through list after list of potential problems I might face when I walked through the front door, that I wasn’t paying attention to the rain belting down on me or the students whizzing past.

I wasn’t paying attention to anything.

Because I knew.

I just knew deep down in my heart and soul that danger was coming.

I didn’t know where, or when, or how it might unfold.

But I knew it was coming.

However, the danger I was predicting arrived prematurely when I rounded the corner of the main building and collided with a solid male chest.

I was so unprepared for the contact, so deeply caught up in my own thoughts, that I didn’t have time to steady myself or break my fall.

I folded like a deck of cards, no match for the person I had smashed into, and collapsed on my arse on the cold, wet ground.

“Oh, shit – I’m so sorry,” a deep, familiar voice said from above me.

I didn’t need to look up to know who I had bumped into, though.

I would recognize his voice anywhere.

“Shannon, are you okay?” Johnny asked as he dropped his schoolbag on the ground and reached down to help me up.

“I’m okay,” I mumbled, batting his hand away.

I didn’t need him touching me.

I was alr

eady too affected by him.

Keeping my eyes trained on the concrete, I twisted onto my hands and knees and pulled myself up.

“I’m so sorry,” he continued to say.

“It’s okay,” I whispered, brushing my skirt down. “I’m okay.”

“Are you?”

I nodded but kept my gaze down.

I couldn’t look at him.

I didn’t want him to see me.

Not like this.

“Shannon?”

“I need to go,” I croaked out, and then stepped around him, moving for the main building.

With my head down, I hurried into the main building and straight to the third-year locker area.

Breathe.

Stop panicking.

Just breathe.

When I reached the third-year locker area, which was thankfully empty, I let my schoolbag fall from my shoulders and pressed my forehead against the cool, hard metal, inhaling sharp, audible breaths.

Trembling, I leaned my forearms against the locker and just held my head, desperately trying to get a handle on this ridiculous terror threatening to possess me and stop my body from going into vomit mode.

My legs were shaking so bad I knew I wouldn’t make it to the bathroom in time, so my only hope was to calm myself down before I threw up.

Too late, I thought to myself just as my legs buckled beneath me.

I dropped to the floor on my hands and knees, as my stomach emptied itself right there in the middle of school.

I didn’t have much in my stomach to begin with, I never usually had, but the water and half bar of chocolate I had at lunch made a reappearance in glorious fashion.

The sound of footsteps pounding down the corridor filled my ears and I groaned to myself, knowing that I would never in a million years live this one down.

Moments later, I felt a hand on my back as someone knelt down beside me and pulled my hair back from my face.

“It’s okay,” Johnny’s voice filled my ears as he rubbed soothing circles over my spine with his big hand. “Shh, you’re okay.”

Oh god, no.

Why did he do that?

Why did he follow me?

He wasn’t supposed to talk to me.

That was the plan.

I dry heaved for a solid two minutes longer before my stomach finally settled, and all the while he knelt beside me, holding my hair out of my vomit, and rubbing my back.

“Are you okay?” Johnny asked, when I was breathing again and not gawking.

I nodded weakly, and then felt his hand still on my back.

I coiled tight on instinct.

“What’s this?” I heard him ask moments before his fingertips grazed my neck, right above the collar of my school shirt. “Your neck is bruised.”

Panic seized my heart as I felt him shift more of my hair aside and touch my neck again.

“Shannon?” Johnny repeated. “How’d you get this?”

“It’s old,” I croaked out, still gasping for air.

“Doesn’t look old,” he replied, touching my neck.

“Well, it is,” I strangled out, shaking off his touch.

Thankfully, he complied and shifted away from me.

Weak and mortified, I remained exactly where I was on my hands and knees, just staring at the floor as a wave of utter humiliation washed through me.

“Shannon?” he said in a soft tone, hand on my back once more. “Are you okay?”

Nodding weakly, I pulled back to a kneeling position, hands on my lap, gaze cast downwards.

“Wait here, okay?” Johnny ordered as he pulled himself up to a standing position. “I’ll go get the caretaker.”

“No, no,” I strangled out, mortified. “I’ll clean it.”

“No, you won’t,” he argued. “It’s okay. Just wait here for me and I’ll be right back.”

The moment I heard his footsteps retreating, I scrambled to my feet, grabbed my schoolbag, and bolted into the nearest bathroom on this wing of the school.

Hurrying inside, I went straight to the sink, unzipped the front pocket of my schoolbag and retrieved the travel-sized toothbrush and paste I religiously carried around with me.

I was an anxious person and my anxiety made me sick.

It happened in the most inappropriate and inconvenient places, usually at school, like today, so I was always prepared.

Trembling from head to toe, and with tears burning my eyes, I quickly brushed my teeth, gagging when the brush poked the back of my throat.

When I was finished cleaning my mouth, I rinsed off the toothbrush and tucked it back inside the small zip lock bag with the paste before packing it back into my schoolbag.

You’re okay, I mentally coaxed as I washed my hands and splashed water on my face, everything is going to be okay.

I knew I wasn’t, though.

No matter how much I tried to lie to myself, nothing was okay about my life.

Sniffling, I strapped my school bag to my back, pushed open one of the toilet cubicle doors and grabbed a bottle of disinfectant tucked away behind the cistern.

Walking back to the sink, I pulled a couple dozen paper towels out of the dispenser and headed back to the crime scene.

But it was gone.

Erased by the caretaker wandering back down the hall with a mop and bucket trailing after him.

“I told you to wait for me,” a familiar voice came from close by.

Swinging around, I found Johnny leaning against the lockers.

“I had to brush my teeth,” I blurted out, sniffling.

He arched a brow. “At school?”

“It happens a lot,” I strangled out.

He frowned, watching me with those intense blue eyes. “Are you feeling better now?”

I nodded, mortified. “I’m okay.”

“Good.” Pushing off the lockers, Johnny walked over to where I was standing and took the disinfectant and paper towels out of my hands.

Reeling, I watched as he opened the girls’ bathroom door and tossed the disinfectant and paper towels back inside.

“I’m taking you home now,” he said as he slid my schoolbag off my shoulders and slung it over his left shoulder.

My eyes widened. “No, no, you don’t have –”

“I’m taking you home,” he repeated, blue eyes locked on mine. “Let’s go.”

“Why?” I croaked out.

Johnny frowned. “Why what?”

“Why are you helping me?”

He stared at me for the longest moment before exhaling a heavy sigh. “Because I want to.”

“You do?”

He nodded. “Do you have a coat?”

“A coat?” I croaked out, feeling helpless as I stared up at this beautiful boy.

“Yeah, it’s hammering down with rain outside.”

“I, uh –” I pressed my hand to my forehead, striving to gather my thoughts. “It’s on the coat hook,” I finally managed to say. “In the science building.”

With wide eyes, I watched as Johnny unzipped the black coat he was wearing and draped it over my shoulders.

“Come on,” he said in a coaxing tone as he wrapped an arm around my shoulders, tucked me into his side, and led me out of school. “I’ll take care of you.”