December 25, 1980
Myra placed the bundled up baby on the church's doorstep. Tears were running down her face, she didn't want to leave her baby here. She wanted to take him home, love him and raise him. But her mother had flatly refused. She couldn't take care of him on her own, she was only fourteen.
The baby squirmed when she kissed his cheek.
"I love you, Matthew." She placed the letter telling the priest who he was. Telling Matthew, she would come back for him one day. Hoping against hope, she would be able to follow through on that promise.
October 20, 1981
Myra was finally able to hold her little boy again. After almost a year, she had him back in her arms. She had just recently given birth to another child, a girl she named Jacqueline. Finally, after begging her mother, she was able to get Matthew back. At fifteen she was already a mother of two, but she loved both of them dearly.
December 25, 2006
"Matthew, stop teasing your sister," Myra said, though it was hard not to laugh herself.
Matthew had Michaela over his shoulder, spinning her around. She loved this time of year, especially this year with all her babies under the same roof again. Now that Matthew was back from Australia, and Jacqui from custodial. Matthew had met a woman a few years before, and ran off with her. Just as Myra feared, he had gotten his heart broken. Now he was back, asking if he could move back in. She of course said yes. John Paul wasn't happy because now he would have to share his room again. But John Paul was a moody seventeen-year-old at the best of times so it really didn't bother any of them.
"She's being a horror, Mum," Matthew whined.
"I was just askin' you if you were dating anyone," Michaela said, beating on Matthew's back.
"Put her down. And you," she said looking at her youngest. "Leave your brother alone."
"Thanks, Mum," Matthew said brightly, right before tossing Michaela on the couch and running upstairs. As soon as Michaela recovered, she went chasing after him. Life really was great, Jacqui and Matthew both home for Christmas.
February 8, 2014
John Paul pulled himself up from the classroom floor. His pants were still wrapped around his knees. Pulling them up, he quickly fastened them, straightening his shirt. Pain radiated through his body. His head throbbed from the hit, but he didn't think that was why his mind was so muddled.
Numbly, he made his way out of the school. He knew Ste would be wondering where he was. But he couldn't face the thought of seeing the man. He didn't want to see anyone. Ste yelled at him through the phone, he couldn't find it in himself to care. It was like he was dead on the inside. Pain and shame the only feelings left; it was just like his body was waiting for them to get with the program and die too.
By the time he got to the police station, he had almost talked himself out of it. How was he supposed to tell them what happened? Tell them that a teenage boy overpowered him? He did go in, though. Detective Inspector Sam Lomax, was the one to take his statement. When she mentioned going to the sexual assault referral center he almost bolted. The thought of telling more people made his stomach turn. He didn't want anyone looking at him with pity or worse…disgust, he had enough for a lifetime. Would they say that he deserved it? Would Sam, if she knew he had slept with her husband? No one would side with him if they really knew him.
Although, he initially agreed, he changed his mind halfway through the examination. They had just finished the first part of the rape exam. He didn't want to be there anymore. He wanted to disappear, so no one would see him again.
Sam tried to stop him but she finally did listen and took him home. As he showered, he scrubbed his skin raw while burning hot water pelted his skin. It wasn't enough, it would never be enough.
Suddenly, his windpipe constricted, he couldn't breathe. He knew for sure he would die, there was no way he could survive this. The world then went dark all around him.
Cold. That was the first thing that he noticed. Cold water hitting his naked flesh. His body lying in the tub when he woke up. His entire head was hurting; from the blood on his hands, he guessed he had hit his head when he fell. Red mixed with the water, circling bath's drain.
Standing up, he cleaned himself up in the ice cold water. After he wrapped himself up in his robe, he bandaged the cut on his head. By the time he got into his bedroom, Baby Matthew was awake. He had a teething ring in his mouth, when he saw John Paul he tried to get to him.
But his father didn't pick him up. John Paul couldn't do it. He felt that he would taint Baby Matthew if he touched him. Nothing felt right. He couldn't take care of his son now, he was worthless. Quickly, shedding the robe, he dressed in a fresh set of clothes.
Sitting at his desk, he wrote a quick letter. It was to his family, Baby Matthew's namesake, his older brother in specific to take care of Matthew. It said that he couldn't take care of him at the moment, and that he didn't know when he'd be back. At the very bottom, he told them why. The attack and rape were condensed into a few sentences. He couldn't bear to tell them who had done it. That shame was just for him. The only reason he put it down in the first place was because he needed them to know the reason he was leaving Baby Matthew in their care.
Once the letter was done he packed a few sets of clothes in a rucksack. Walking over to the crib, he almost kissed his son on his little head, but he couldn't do it. He just didn't feel like that person anymore. He couldn't taint his son for a moment more. Once he was out of the house and down the street he called Teresa's cell phone.
"John Paul?"
"Umm…yeah. Could you watch Baby Matthew for a little longer, I don't know when I'll be home." Not a total lie.
"I thought I heard you in the shower? Must have been one of Mercy's blokes. Sure, I'll take care of Baby Matthew. You just take care of yourself. Are you alright? You don't sound like yourself."
"Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks, Teresa."
He didn't know how long he would have before the letter was discovered; so he needed to get out of Chester, and fast. He didn't really have a plan but to get away. He would be back, but only after he could feel right in his skin again. It was all too new, too painful. Baby Matthew didn't deserve a broken father; his family would treat him well.
The taxi took him as far as the train station. Luckily, the last train of the day was due to leave any moment. Paying a small fortune, he got a one-way ticket. Soon he would arrive at his destination, one that he didn't even pay attention to as he paid for the ticket. He just needed to get away from everything, but mostly Finn O'Connor.
He made the choice to keep his phone on him. If something happened to Baby Matthew, he wanted to know. The first call came in thirty minutes after he left. It went to voicemail. After that, it started to ring so much he shut it off. He knew this would happen, they were trying to stop him. But he couldn't go back, couldn't look them in eye after what he'd told them in the letter.
