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His face darkens instantly. ‘It’s my house. My daughters. It’s absolutely my call.’

His daughters? He fucking wishes. The words are on my tongue, bitter and waiting.

‘Funny,’ I say quietly. ‘You only seem to notice what’s happening under your own roof when it inconveniences you.’

He freezes. ‘What did you say?’

I meet his eyes. ‘You’ve got a real selective sense of outrage.’

His steps are heavier now as he comes further down the stairs. ‘You don’t know a damn thing about my family.’

I shrug. ‘I know more than you think.’

He bristles, his jaw muscle popping. ‘You keep her out of this,’ he growls. ‘You have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about.’

‘I didn’t say what it was, or her name, but you knew exactly who I meant.’

His hands curl into fists. ‘You’re crossing a line.’

‘You crossed it first. Long before I ever showed up.’

‘If I ever see you near my family again—’

‘You’ll do what?’

His jaw flexes, but no answer comes as his face reddens. I stand up, not backing down. ‘You don’t scare me, and you should watch your back, old man. You have no idea who you’re dealing with.’

Turning, I leave before he can say anything else. The night air hits my face, cold and biting, but it doesn’t clear the feeling that’s settling in my chest. I know I’ve just made things worse. I know I’ve put a target on my back. Glancing back to the house, I see Isla hovering at the window, her stare pinned on me. She steps back into the darkness, disappearing completely. I round the corner, the weight of everything hitting me like a tonne of bricks.

I don’t slow down. If I do, I’ll go back, and that’ll only make things worse.

The train ride home is a blur of lights and trees. I sit slouched in my seat, hood up, staring at my reflection in the glass. I look exactly how I feel. Wrung out, with dark circles under my eyes. Every stop pulls me further from her street and further from the only person I want to be around.

By the time I get off the train, I expect to feel exhausted, but I don’t. I attempted to call Bryn countless times, each call ringing straight to voicemail. My guess is that it was taken off her.

I can already hear music thumping from halfway down the block. I don’t even need to see the house to know it’s mine. The same shitty playlist that was on before I left is still blaring from the speakers. I push inside the half-open door and nearly trip over an empty bottle. The place is wrecked. Cups are everywhere, potent smoke hangs in the air, and people I don’t recognise are sprawled across furniture and the floor. I stand there for a second, my bag still slung over my shoulder, watching the chaos around me.

‘Yo, yo!’ a voice says. A guy who’s been here many times before appears by my side. I can’t for the life of me remember his name. ‘Little bro is here. How’s it going, dude?’

‘Yeah, good, man. You?’

‘That’s the way!’ he cheers, not detecting the stoniness in my voice. It’s not possible for him to tell there’s numbness spreading through me like poison. ‘Here’s a beer.’

I stare down at it, my auto-response hot on my lips, but I stop myself. I think back to the mess that just went down at Bryn’s place, and part of me simply can’t handle it.

‘Fuck it,’ I mutter, swiping it from him.

Whatever-his-name-is moves on from me quickly enough. I head to my room, dropping my bag by the door, glad to see there is no one naked in my bed this time. Tipping my head back, I finish the beer quickly. The bubbles sizzle in my belly, but I ignore the feeling. I peel my hoodie off and head back into the chaos, shoving my way through the crowd and grabbing the first drink I see. I don’t even ask what it is. I down half of it in one go, welcoming the burn in my throat.

Someone claps me on the back. A random hands me a cup. The music gets louder, and so do the conversations around me. I sweep my eyes around the room. I can’t see my brother anywhere, which is always a good thing. I let myself smile, the pain soaking through me, thick and suffocating.

Tonight, I don’t want quiet. I don’t want to face all the shit that just went down. The only good thing in my life has been taken from me, and I feel powerless to save it.

I wake up to bright sunlight and a stabbing sensation in my skull. For a second, I don’t know where I am, just that everything hurts and my tongue feels like it’s glued to the roof of my mouth. The grass beneath me is cold and damp, seeping through my clothes, and when I try to move my arm, it catches on something plastic and hollow. A cup rolls away.

‘Shit,’ I mutter, my voice hoarse.

I blink up at the sky. It’s too bright and too blue, like the universe is mocking me. There’s music still playing somewhere inside the house. My backyard looks like a war zone: bottles lay tipped over, ashtrays have been spilt, and the fence that had been hanging on its hinges is now completely broken, as if someone leant on it and finished the job.