JOEY
IT WAS no big revelation when the only handcuffs the Gards withdrew at Tommen were the ones they used to cuff me with.
Nor did it come as a surprise when I was read the usual ‘I’m arresting you under section 4 of the criminal justice act’ spiel, because, quite frankly, I’d heard it a dozen times before.
Thrown into the back of the squad car, I’d been taken straight to the station, where I had been searched, stripped and slapped around by none other than Paul the prick’s daddy. All that before being tossed in the cells for a time-out, while I waited on legal aid to show up and escort me to the courthouse.
Unapologetic for my actions, I took my punishment on the chin, unwilling to show emotion or feel bad for defending my sister.
Because fuck those pricks at Tommen.
Fuck the whole damn world.
My only regret about the day’s events was that I had dragged my girlfriend into it. Because Molloy wouldn’t have been there if it wasn’t for me, and she sure as shit wouldn’t have been fighting if it wasn’t to defend me.
Her face continued to haunt me long into the evening as I sat on a concrete slab that doubled up as a bed in the holding cell which I was being retained in. I battled with both my conscience and my body as it reeled from withdrawal.
The stainless-steel piss-hole in the corner of my cell had seen more vomit than I cared to admit, as I continued to eject the contents of my stomach.
Black gunk.
Green bile.
Clumps of blood.
Jesus Christ, I was hemorrhaging poison.
The phone call I’d been awarded, I had naïvely used on a woman who wouldn’t even pick up the phone.
My mother didn’t care.
She had never cared.
Christ, I had a better chance of the old man showing up to get me.
You already know this, asshole, so stop caring about her!
Disgusted with myself for being so damn weak, I refused the chance to make another call, because in all honesty, I didn’t have anyone to call.
The beef I had with Darren meant that I would gladly serve an eighteen-month sentence for assault and battery before crawling on my knees to him for help.
Because fuck Darren.
The only person I could call, the only person who hadn’t completely given up on me ,was the one person I needed to protect.
The person I cared about most in the world.
I knew Molloy would answer.
I knew she would come for me.
She would fight my corner, regardless of what it cost her.
That was the whole fucking problem.
I had to stop this.
I had to stop putting her at risk.
“On your feet, Lynch,” a male Garda ordered, as he unbolted and opened the metal door containing me. “You have court in twenty minutes.”
Peachy.
Just fucking peachy.
Not bothering to argue, I complied with his orders and remained still as a statue as I was re-cuffed.
Yeah, this wasn’t going to end well for me.
Maybe this is a good thing, I thought to myself, as I was led out back to an awaiting prison van. Maybe the judge will decide to remand me, and I’ll be transferred to Cork prison. At least then, Molloy and the baby will be safe from me.
