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Mickeys body ached, his eyes were almost swollen shut and his breathing laboured as he lay broken on the bed. He bit down on the already battered corner of his lip to hold in the cry of pain as he attempted to move. He had no idea how he’d made it to his bed after Terry had finished laying into him.
Terry was long gone now, his buddies whisking him off to get even more loaded on whatever the fuck they could get their hands on. But the sounds of muffled voices through his bedroom door made his heart flutter in panic until he made out Iggy and Mandy’s concerned faces charging into his room.
Their hands quickly went to work, moving his clothes to see where their father had damaged their brother. Mickey wanted to tell them to stop, that he was fine, to leave him alone, let him lick his wounds in private but he couldn’t seem to make his mouth for the words.
‘Definitely broken ribs,’
‘I don’t think his jaw is broken, but I’m not a hundred percent this cheek ain’t...’
‘finger’s dislocated and these knuckles look broken.’
They spoke to each other but their eyes never left him. Their voices barely above a hushed whisper, he could see the turbulent mix of emotions swirling within their eyes even as their faces remained impassive masks. The torturous ache in his battle hardened sister, the violent anger and shame in his usually placid brother.
Mickey sometimes forgot this side of them, he spent so much time pushing them away so they didn’t find out about his dirty little secret that he forgot sometimes that they loved him. That Iggy was his big brother, who taught him how to smoke a joint and how to shoot his slingshot, and Mandy was the baby sister that he would hold in his arms, shushing so she didn't cry when their parents fought and Iggy shielded them in their hiding place beneath Iggy’s bed.
They loved him, he wished they didn’t, maybe then he could ignore his guilt for hiding himself from them.
‘Don’t...’ The word broke through his bloody lips but the ‘I deserve this, I was sloppy’ went unspoken as they hushed him.
‘Please Mickey, let us look after you.’
‘Shut up little brother,’
Mickey let his eyes slip close and pretended that it was blood and not tears that ran thickly down his cheeks. A sob and a whimper echoed through the room and Mickey had no idea whose mouth the sounds belonged to, too much pain and sorrow filled his brain to care.
He felt his head being lifted and opened his eyes briefly to Iggy pressing pills to his lips, following with a glass of water as Mandy carefully wiped his blood stained skin.
‘Sleep man, we gotchu.’ Mickey sighed, letting whatever drugs Iggy had given him take full reign of his system. He knew Iggy’s words meant, they would stand between him and their dad, they wouldn’t let him take Mickey unaware, cause this is what they did for each other.
No man left behind. They couldn’t save each other from the warzone they had been born into but they could patch each other and guard to make sure they at least had a fighting chance.
‘We gotchu,’ the feel of Mandy’s fingers softly carding through his hair, her warmth carefully laid next to him between him and the door, the smell of Iggy’s cigarette and the sound of him loading ammo into the hand gun from where he sat on the floor alongside Mickey’s pillow was last thing Mickey registered as he fell into the abyss.
Despite everything, for the first time in ages Mickey felt safe.