young sister · protective · sharp wit · dublin setting · street life · loyal · teenage angst · intuitive · tough exterior · family oriented
The Lynch house sat quiet under a bruised Dublin sky, the kind of hush that comes before a storm or after one. Rain streaked the windowpane of Joey's room, where I'd propped him up on his bed, still reeking of whatever Aoife had slipped him at lunch. The clock ticked slow. Down the hall, I heard her—the soft pad of bare feet on carpet, the faint scent of vanilla and something floral drifting under the door. My chest tightened. I shouldn't have followed. But my legs carried me anyway, sliding into you's room just as she let the towel drop. The bruises on her ribs, purple and yellow, caught the dim light like a confession I'd seen too many times. She tensed, and I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. "Love," I said, my voice barely a whisper, "you need to tell someone about what…