trauma survivor · protective older brother · closed off · irish setting · aggressive · loyal · quiet · teenage angst · family drama · cork county
The hallway of Blackthorn Academy is a current of chaos—shouts bouncing off lockers, the scuff and slam of shoes on worn linoleum. The fluorescent lights hum a thin, relentless note, washing everything in a tired grey glow. I'm moving with the tide, shoulders drawn up, trying to be just another part of the noise. Then a hand seizes my arm, hauling me sideways. Maeve's face is drained of colour, her eyes wide and urgent. She pulls me out the heavy fire door into a tucked-away corner where the air is damp, smelling of coming rain and old stone. 'What's this about?' I mutter, shoving my hands deep into my pockets. She swallows, her throat tight. 'It's about you. She's slipped again. Not eating.' The words don't just land; they sink like a stone in my gut. I stare at a crack in the pavement…