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THE HUM OF CONVERSATION AND THE clinking of glasses filled the air at The Holloway, a pub that sat snugly between The Royal Academy and TSS. The place is a melting spot of students from both schools, a neutral ground where rivalries are left at the door. Well, most of the time. Or at least with the greasy food and fizzy drinks.
I’ve been here a few times but the atmosphere still feels fresh. The Holloway has this old-school vibe to it, with its dim lighting, scuffed wooden floors, and a bar that carries the ghosts of a thousand conversations.
A jukebox sits in the corner, eternally out of order, and the scent of fried chips lingers in the air. It’s a good distraction from the eight I’ve been carrying since transferring.
“So,” Jack starts, leaning back in his chair as he sips on his Coke. “Big man Connie, how’s it feel? Being part of the enemy now?”
Forget about it being a distraction. Never mind.
I roll my eyes, but his grin is infectious. “It’s fine,” I say with a shrug. “I’m settling in. No complaints.”
That was a partial lie. In truth, I’m not really settling in. The switch from my old school to The Royal Academy is like stepping into a whole different universe. Everything there is bigger and better: the facilities, the competition, the stakes.
On the pitch, I can deal with that no problem. But off it? School wise? I’m floundering. In all honesty, my old school felt like home and I’m used to my old team, knowing every move they’d make. Here, I’m just another guy trying to prove himself, and the weight of that along with my dad’s expectations is suffocating.
But I’m not going to admit that. Not to Jack, Carson, or anyone. They’re good lads though and solid teammates.
“Good to hear,” Jack replies, snapping me out of my thoughts. He leans towards, his grin widening. “Thought you’d be crying into your pillow or something after leaving your precious old team.”
I smirk, playing along. “Yeah, because I’m you. Proper crybaby.”
“Real mature,” he scoffs, throwing a chip at me but I dodge it just in time.
Carson chimes in, leaning his elbows on the table, “Bet they’re fuming you left, though. You were their golden boy, weren’t you?”
“Something like that,” I mutter, taking a sip of my drink.
Jack tilts his head, giving me a skeptical look. “Come on, Connie. You’re at Royal now. That’s top-tier. What’s not to like?”
I shrug, not wanting to give anything away. I can’t just say, “oh, you know just the constant pressure to be the best and the fact that my dad will lose his shit if I’m not,” because I keep that shit to myself.
“It’s good, I can’t complain,” I repeat.
Carson smirks, breaking the tension. “Well, at least you’ve got me. I’ll make you look better by comparison.”
“Right,” Jack chuckles, deadpanning. “Because the sight of you eating dirt during drills is so inspirational.”
Carson throws a chip at him and I can’t help but laugh.
“Anyway,” Jack huffs, leaning back in his chair. “Training tomorrow. You ready to embarrass some fella’s?”
“Always.”
“Just don’t embarrass me, yeah?” he warns, shooting me a look.
I decide to mess with him, “No promises.”
The door to the pub swings open, and Hassan’s laugh cuts through the chatter. He walks in with Luca and Cal, the three of them looking as thick as thieves. Hassan is laid-back as always, grinning and joking, while Luca carries himself with that easy confidence that could either charm or irritate you, depending on his mood. And Cal? He’s the quiet one, steady and unshakable.
Jack nudges me. “There’s your boy.”
I raised a brow. “Which one?”
“Hassan, obviously,” Jack smirks jokingly. “Let’s go say hi.”
Carson is already on his feet, and I follow, trailing behind as we approach their table. Cal notices me first, nodding in acknowledgment. I nod back. No bad blood there. Luca, though, barely glances up, and I feel my shoulders stiffen.
“Yo,” Hassan calls out, his grin widening. “What’s up?”
“Not much,” Jack sighs, leaning on their table. “You coming over mine? We’re thinking FIFA and takeaway.”
Hassan’s face lights up. “Say no more. I have no plans after six.”
Before anyone else can speak, Luca cut in, his voice sharp but not quite hostile. “How’s Royal treating ya, Connie?”
My jaw tightened, but I kept my expression neutral. There’s something about the way he said it, like he wanted to piss me off. “What? Jealous, kid?”
The tension at the table spikes instantly as Luca stands up. Him being six foot at his age might be intimidating for some lot, but I’m a year older and I’m taller.
Hassan quickly steps between us, his voice calm but firm, “Alright, the both of yous. We’re not doing this here.”
“Yeah, let’s not,” Cal mutters, nodding his head towards the manager who’s watching us with arms crossed.
“Just asked a question, lad.” Luca shrugs, sitting back down. Yeah, dick.
All of a sudden, my phone buzzes in my pocket. Glancing at the screen, I say, “Give me a minute, yeah? Gotta take this.”
Not bothering to wait for Jack’s and
Carson’s reply, I walk away and pick up the call. “Hi, Connie,” Cora’s voice comes through, soft and trembling.
“You good?” I ask, already sensing the answer.
“It’s Dad,” she whispers. “Please, can you come home? There’s something wrong this time. I can feel it, Connie. Please.”
Dad? He’s not supposed to be home yet. He’s supposed to be on some work trip in Scotland.
My hand tightens around the phone. “I’m on my way.” I hung up without waiting for a response.
What the fuck is he up to now?
“Everything alright?” I hear Carson’s voice ask from behind me.
“Yeah,” I lie, putting my hands into the pocket of my hoodie. “Gotta sort some shit out, I won’t be able to make it over tonight.”
Jack’s brows furrow before they quickly go back to normal. Good. Don’t question it.
“I’ll see you at practice then?”
I nod my head in response before walking the fuck out of there. I need to get home.
Now.
I open the door to silence. You can drop a pin and I’d be able to hear it, that’s how silent the house is and for some reason that scared me more.
Hesitating, I step in. Still nothing.
I open the living room door slowly and a small scoff escapes my lips when I see my dad passed out on the couch with a bottle of whiskey in his hand. So fucking typical. I’m not surprised.
Scanning the room, my eyes narrow as I notice the place is trashed. Not like how I left it this morning. The lamp is on the floor and shamed along with the decorations that are supposed to be on the coffee table.
I have no doubt in my mind that he did this.
Sighing, I enter the kitchen. Everything is where it’s supposed to be. Well, at least he spared this room.
Still no sign of Cora though. She must be in her room then. I hope she is. She knows that if he ever comes home drunk, she’s to go to her room and lock the door.
Not that he ever hit her. He’s never laid a finger on her actually. It’s just that when he’s angry and drunk-a bad combo-she’s his target of rage, the person he can get all his anger out on.
His words hurt her. I know they do, I can see it with my own eyes. That’s why whenever he’s gone on a work trip, it feels like relief washes over me, because I know that’s a few days out of the week where she doesn’t have to hear insults being thrown at her.
Hearing objects smashing onto the floor, my eyes dart to the stairs. Shit. I don’t waste any time running up the steps, not stopping until I reach her room.
“Cora,” I call softly, knocking on her door. “It’s me.”
Silence.
I lean my forehead against the door, swallowing hard. “Can you talk to me? Tell me what happened?”
Still no answer.
“Please, Cora?”
Nothing.
I can’t leave. I can’t go out with my friends, not with her like this. I need to be here and I should’ve been here anyways. To protect her. That’s what I need to do and I failed terribly this time.
I couldn’t save mum but I can try to save her.
“I’m here when you’re ready to talk, alright?”
Please.
“He’s already told me how he wished I was never born and all that other stuff he likes to say to me,” I hear her mutter.
“Don’t listen to him. All of that is bullshit, Cora.”
She sniffles as she lets out a scoff. She’s crying? Another sniffle. She is.
“Whatever, Connie. Just go away, I shouldn’t need you to come running to save me every time he’s home anyway,” she replies. “He’s right, I’m not a baby. I’m old enough to deal with his stupid shit.”
“Cora-“
“Leave me alone, Connie. Please.”
Or maybe it’s too late to save her too.
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