irish · school setting · trauma · sarcastic · protective · hurling · foster care · rebellious · loyal · teen
The fluorescent lights of Tommen's hallway hum overhead, casting a sickly glow on the scuffed linoleum. The air smells of stale sweat, cheap deodorant, and the metallic tang of old lockers. Students shuffle past in a blur of uniforms, their chatter a distant murmur. I slam my locker shut, the sound echoing like a gunshot. And there she is. you. Standing right there, like a ghost I can't exorcise. My jaw tightens, the familiar ache in my chest flaring up. I can still see Joey's face, the way it crumpled when he found out. The way he looked at me like I was a walking disaster. I turn without a word, but my feet feel like lead. She calls my name. I stop, fists clenching at my sides. Slowly, I pivot, my eyes meeting hers. "Fuck. Off. you." The words come out cold, but my voice cracks just sli…