When Catherine first approached Jimmy about joining the Irish Republican Army, she had been sixteen and he was the commander of the Belfast Brigade. The girl who had once preached to him about the importance of unifying Ireland through nonviolence looked up at him with two black eyes and a split lower lip. He always knew she would eventually come around, seeing his view of the world.
On a bleak and rainy Thursday afternoon, Catherine diverted from her usual walk home from St. Dominic's Grammar School for Girls. She quickly regretted her decision, when she became the target of a drunken off-duty British soldier. With her black, swollen eyes and bloodied lip, she told Jimmy the assault had taken place following her resistance of copulation with the hot and bothered soldier of the Crown. As Catherine recounted every detail of the beating she took, he recognized the incident had changed her. The days of believing pacifism was the answer were now in her past, as her ability to fight back had saved her from being defiled.
At first, Jimmy suggested she join the all-female IRA auxiliary group, Cumann na mBann. Although she came from a long line of women who had taken on the serious responsibilities of being part of Cumann na mBann, Catherine wanted more than bandaging wounded soldiers and hiding guns which were still smoldering following a shooting. Her decision to be alongside the men who she had known for almost two decades, had been formulated by a combination of feminism and the entitlement of having come from a distinguished republican family.
"I don't want 'ta make tea and suture." She turned her cheek a meager subsidiary role. "I want 'ta fight."
Catherine assured Jimmy she was just as able as any man. Hundreds of women before her had proved themselves to be worthy of the cause. She refused to settle for anything less than being a soldier. The fire that burned in her eyes as she spoke, reminded Jimmy far too much of Filip Telford.
He had soaked in every single word she said, examined them carefully, and then brought her arguments to the Army Council. Jimmy knew she was worthy to wear the black beret. She had been reared in the Irish Republican Army; the cause pumped through her veins and loyalty gripped her heart. She would make a fine soldier, as she was smart and obedient.
Ever since the moment, she locked eyes with the British soldier who attacked her, Catherine realized she had spent most of her years in a naive fantasy. Peaceful resistance wasn't the answer-it wouldn't bring about the change Northern Ireland desperately needed.
When Jimmy brought her induction to the Army Council for a vote, he was met with a resistance he hadn't been expecting. They told him to back off the young Catherine, without the slightest explanation as to why. So his hands were tied, but that didn't stop him from exposing her to the life she desired.
For years after, Jimmy spent nearly every free minute he could with her. Whether it be target practice or filling her head with the reasons why the Army fought. As commander of the Bridge, Jimmy also eased her in by starting her off running mundane errands after school, to eventually having her tag along on the weekends when he made weapon drops in the Republic.
Nonetheless, just before Catherine's eighteenth birthday in December, Jimmy would defy the wishes of her father, no longer holding any respect for his comrade following a fateful night weeks before Christmas.
Catherine sank into the couch, pulling her knees to her chest. She tried to hide her face, not wanting to bear witness to the vulgar back and forth between her sober brother and inebriated father. These fights were unfortunately typical in the O'Toole household. Brien would stick up for their mother when Patrick would come home looking for trouble following a night out.
The young woman's eyes filled with a fleeting sorrow and tears, knowing full well what was coming the moment she saw her father wind his fist back. Brien stumbled backward after the ensuing punch to the side of the head, but he ignored the stars in his eyes as he was blinded by rage. Lunging towards his father, it became a mess of flailing arms with some punches landing, but most of them not.
Catherine instinctively unfolded from her position on the couch, when Patrick had somehow managed to get Brien into a headlock. Her mother began screaming at her husband to let her youngest son go, but she became hysterical when Catherine pounced on Patrick's back. It was her desperate attempt to break her father and brother apart.
She was beyond protective of her older brother. They were a mere ten months apart and had been glued to the hip for the last seventeen years. Even though she knew Brien could hold his own in a fistfight with Patrick, Catherine could never remain a bystander like their mother. From a young age, Brien always fought like a man while their father liked to take the cowards way out.
"Let him go!" Catherine screamed. She landed punches of her own to the side of Patrick's face.
Brien was no longer concerned about the position Patrick had him in, his focus was now on getting his sister out of the scrum. There had only been three times in their lives where Patrick turned on Catherine, and each time he felt enough guilt to almost changing his ways.
Now becoming annoyed and enraged by his daughter, Patrick let go of Brien. Their mother, Olivia, rushed to her son's side and began wiping the blood from the splits on his lip and eyebrow. Brien, however, didn't want his mother's pity and pushed Olivia away after Patrick managed to overpower Catherine.
He threw her onto the ground, knocking the wind out of her, before pinning her down with his legs on either side of her pelvis.
When his bloody hand grabbed the collar of her shirt, Catherine knew her fate had been sealed. There was no way she could prepare for the punches that connected with the center of her face. The first blow broke her nose, sending such a searing pain through her body it numbed all other senses. Catherine's vision became blurry with every jab that followed. Her ears rang so loudly, she could barely make out the screeches of her mother. It was Brien who came to her aid.
"I'll fuckin' kill 'ya!" Brien tackled Patrick with enough force, it sent both men to the ground.
The only sound that now filled the humid living room, was the cries coming from Olivia. Feeling woozy, Catherine sat up and rested her back against the couch as her chest heaved from heavy breaths. She attempted to wipe the blood from her nose, but the pain was too great to complete the simple action.
With pitiful eyes, Catherine turned her gaze to her mother. She wasn't angry-she couldn't be. It was a known fact Patrick followed the same cycle; he would drink, get angry, fight, sober up, feel guilty, then start drinking again. He couldn't be helped, which only led Catherine to feel sorry for her mother who was so insecure with her life, she couldn't muster the courage to leave her abusive husband.
Patrick released himself from the pin Brien had him in. Sitting up and leaning on the coffee table, he surveyed the damage he had done to his youngest child; his only daughter, the only true love in his life.
"Catherine," Patrick called out.
She wanted none of it. Standing to her feet, Catherine bolted out of the house and onto the damp Falls Road. At least she had grabbed her shoes, but she was wearing clothes that hardly protected her skin from the winter chill in the air. Furious and bloody, Catherine aimlessly walked and as soon as she crossed the river into east Belfast, she knew exactly where to go.
In the Short Strand, lived a man who she could rely on. He was the only one who would know what to do, and he could get her medical attention without it becoming neighborhood gossip. Despite the fact Patrick had just let loose on her, Catherine didn't want it getting out that it was her father who had rearranged her face.
Jimmy had just sat down on the couch, with a can of Guinness and a piping hot plate of bangers and mash. He turned the volume up on the television, enjoying this rare alone time as his longtime girlfriend had taken her daughter to Dublin for a Christmas shopping trip. Looking forward to a night of beer and rugby, Jimmy had just lifted a forkful of mashed potatoes to his mouth when a knock at the door interrupted dinner.
Glancing up at the clock, he wondered who in the hell it could be. None of the Army lads dared to show up on his front doorstep and he would have been informed of a Royal Ulster Constabulary raid. When the second knock came, Jimmy stood at a snail's pace, trying to make as little noise as possible. He grabbed the pistol he kept under the sofa and made sure a round was chambered as he walked to the front door. Unlocking the deadbolt and unlatching the chain, he was met with a startled Catherine, who instantly raised her hands when she saw the firearm.
"It's just me, Jimmy!"
"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph." He tucked the pistol into his waistband, before pulling Catherine inside and locking the door behind her.
He was horrified by the sight of her. She fought every urge not to collapse into his arms a crying and blubbering mess as he pushed her hair from her face, looking over the destruction. This was the Catherine that Jimmy knew—strong and unshakeable in the wake of violence.
"That mother fucker," Jimmy hissed. There was only one man in all of Ireland who would hit Catherine Mary.
Her copper locks were matted with blood, as was the front of her t-shirt. She was wearing a pair of her brother's basketball shorts on her lower half.
"I think he broke my nose."
The swelling on her left eye was minor, which Jimmy found surprising considering how black and blue the socket was. He cupped her hot jaw in his hands, the coolness of his flesh coming as a relief to her as her body temperature had risen almost ten degrees.
"I'll fuckin' kill him."
Catherine snickered, "you'll have to get in line behind Brien."
Jimmy couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt for the abuse Catherine had taken. He shrugged away the gut feeling which told him to order Patrick to the safe house to sleep off his Bushmills buzz. Knowing Catherine hadn't seen her dad in nearly a month was why he hadn't.
Noticing her nose was, in fact, several centimeters off from center, Jimmy could safely conclude her nose was broken. Resetting a broken nose was second nature to Jimmy at this point in his life, and it made him sick to his stomach that he would have to inflict that pain onto her.
He dashed into the kitchen where he swiped a bottle of whiskey and yelled out to Catherine for her to follow him. They ended up in the bathroom, where Jimmy tossed the cap aside and handed the bottle to her.
"Drink."
She hesitantly brought the bottle to her lips, as she preferred the taste of Jameson over Bushmills. Taking a small sip, she quickly handed it back to Jimmy as her face twisted in disgust. He swatted the bottle and told her to drink more. After she swallowed her third mouthful, she was certain she would be sick.
Rolling up the sleeves of his white button-down, Jimmy then took the bottle from Catherine before polishing off the rest of the amber liquid and tossing it into the sink. It killed him, what he had to do, wishing more than anything that it wasn't her standing in front of him.
Backing her against the wall, Jimmy needed the hard surface to keep her still as he positioned himself. He locked his gaze with hers, noticing the glassy apathetic sheen on her eyes. Having watched her grow up, Jimmy loved that girl with every fiber in his being and hated seeing her like this. Eleven years ago, he had promised himself he would protect her until his dying breath and tonight he failed.
"This is gonna hurt." He couldn't lie to her.
Tears began collecting in the corners of Catherine's eyes as Jimmy brought his hands to her face, delicately placing his thumbs on either side of the appendage. She placed her hands on his sides, fingers tightly gripping the fabric of his shirt. Asking Catherine if she was ready would be a useless question, so without much warning, Jimmy applied pressure, increasing it quickly and forcing the bone into place.
Catherine let out a scream which pierced the Irishman's eardrums. Sure enough, she tried to pull away from Jimmy, but he golfed her in a hug. As he rubbed her back, tears began streaming down her cheeks. She begged for Jimmy to leave her nose alone. Her worn-out body couldn't handle any more pain. She was spent.
It broke Jimmy's heart to see her in such agony. "Just one more time. I need you to focus."
Slowly, she began to relax in Jimmy's arms. Once she finally did, he urged her back to the wall and took hold of her face again. He reminded her to breathe and promised it would be the last time he would have to do it. He lied that it wouldn't be as painful; the worst was yet to come. Counting down from three, Jimmy pressed hard and fast. The distinct pop that followed his motions told Jimmy her nose was back in alignment. As did the series of four-letter words that Catherine spoke. She could feel the rush of hot blood spilling from her nostrils again and she watched the droplets drip to the floor.
He wrapped her once again in his embrace, the side of her face resting against his chest, careful not to bump her nose. She noted how his shirt was now stained with her blood and she pulled away.
"I'm sorry I ruined your shirt."
"That's the least of my concerns, a chuisle." Jimmy reached for the hand towel on the vanity and gently pressed it to her nostrils as he pinched the bridge of her nose.
"You want me to talk to him?" He wasn't exactly sure what to say, but he wanted to break the silence.
"Just a waste of time. He'll never change, you know that."
Catherine rolled her eyes as she turned to the sink, twisting the taps to the faucet on. Through the reflection in the mirror, Jimmy watched as she tied her long hair into a messy bun on the top of her head. Her back slightly arched which gave him the perfect view of her taut nipples through the thin white shirt she was wearing. As Catherine dabbed the blood off her face with the damp towel, Jimmy closed the bathroom door.
"Thank you." Looking into the mirror, she caught his eyes as he stood behind her. "You shouldn't be the one constantly cleanin' up his messes."
Jimmy knew her 'thank you' was genuine. He had never met anyone with a heart as grateful as the one she had been born with. It was bewildering to him how she had grown up to be such a sweet young woman, especially when she lived through the kind of violence she had.
Life hit Jimmy hard right then and there. She was no longer the shy girl he remembered. Now, Catherine was a woman with wide, round hips, fat tits, and a dirty sense of humor. Little did she know it was that deadly combination that had nearly every man in the True IRA eating out of the palm of her hand, ready to defend her against any problem.
Jimmy O'Phelan was no exception.
It didn't matter that she was black and blue, and swollen, Jimmy could feel the crotch of his dress pants grow a little tighter as his eyes traveled down her body and back up. Unable to defeat the need to feel her soft skin under his fingers, Jimmy took a step forward and wrapped his arms around Catherine. Her heart began to palpitate as she melted into him, feeling safe and warm like always.
"I saw ya with Lorcan McInnes' hand up your skirt." he couldn't believe how envious the words sounded as they rolled off his tongue. Was he jealous of an eighteen-year-old boy? "Be careful. You don't wanna end up like your Ma."
Catherine's eyes dropped as her fingers found his. She played with them, not daring to show the victorious smile that tugged the corner of her lips. Her plan had worked; she had gotten his attention. "I'm not havin' sex with him if that's what you're alludin'. I told ya, there's only one man I want."
"Mother'a Christ." Jimmy knew he should let her go and walk away like he's done thrice before. The longer he held her, the harder it would be to control himself. "You a virgin, Catherine?"
Jimmy's hand moved under her shirt, stroking the skin just above the elastic waistband of her shorts. He already knew the answer, he just needed to hear her say it to remind him he couldn't take it too far.
"Aye." Her voice was barely over a whisper.
He lost his mind at the sight of Catherine biting her lower lip. He had a faithful woman, a stepdaughter, but they went completely unforgotten the moment he felt her ass grind against his cock. With one hand, Jimmy grabbed Catherine's jaw and turned her face, colliding his lips with hers. The kiss wasn't lustful and messy as they had expected. It was amorous and deep, full of lips and tongue. Catherine raised her arms and hooked them around Jimmy's neck opening herself up to him.
Ready to explode, she felt his hand leave her jaw and snake under her shirt, finding its final resting place on her breast. Greedy whimpers escaped Catherine, and that only encouraged Jimmy more. While this was the most amazing sexual experience she had in life thus far, she had no idea what it meant to him. He was about to lay claim to Catherine's body, give her want she had wanted for over a year now. Make her his.
Slipping his fingers into her shorts and panties, the kiss broke. Looking into the mirror, Jimmy watched her with possession burning in his eyes as his index and middle fingers made lazy circles around her clit. He wanted nothing more than to slip those fingers into her virgin cunt, but it wasn't the time or the place. She was wetter than anything he had felt. A smile of satisfaction toyed on his lips as her eyes rolled into the back of her head.
Jimmy wanted it to feel wrong. He kept waiting for the wave of guilt and disgust to force him to pull his hand from the depths of Catherine's panties, but it never came. He wasn't supposed to be enjoying this. He was supposed to be the one chasing away the boys who were.
Lust was one hell of a sin and he internally cursed Catherine and her constant taunting for pushing him to this point. Jimmy didn't want to admit that in some ways he wanted it just as bad as she, but unlike her, he knew what type of shit-storm would be kicked up.
Not to mention how it would sink his reputation. He was a commander, in charge of nearly three hundred men, and she was the daughter of his comrade.
With his fingers assaulting her swollen bundle of nerves, it didn't take long until that white heat in Catherine's belly exploded, causing her head to fall back onto Jimmy's shoulder. As her muscles clenched, her vision went blurry and her breath hitched in her throat. The blistering pleasure that ripped through her felt beyond right, but so wrong, and yet not enough.
When she came off the wave of ecstasy, Jimmy slowly removed his hand from her shorts, resting them both on her hips. Catherine's breathing was heavy and the sound of her panting echoed in the small enclosure of the bathroom. Turning around to face him, she wrapped her arms around his neck and he took note as to how flush and beautiful she looked in a post-orgasmic haze- bruises and blood in all. To some extent, it didn't surprise Jimmy to see she hadn't lost the smile in those big blue eyes, even after having just gone through hell and back.
"Kiss me," she whispered.
So he did. Gently, Jimmy dipped his head, capturing her lower lip between his. He could taste a hint of metallic as he slid his tongue along her lip and into her mouth. Her sharp fingernails sent a jolt of electricity down his spine as they scraped against his scalp, finally gripping the roots of his hair. Jimmy couldn't be sure just how many others Catherine had kissed but she poured every ounce of herself into the one with him. For Catherine, she never wanted that moment to end. She finally had exactly who she had wanted for far too long.
It all ended abruptly when Jimmy pulled away, taking several steps back to put a healthy distance between him and Catherine.
"Fuck," he muttered, wiping the saliva from his mouth. "That...shouldnot have happened."
Catherine was left standing there with a flurry of emotions. She attempted to close the growing the gap between them and reached out to place a shaky hand on Jimmy's forearm. When he nudged her off of him, Catherine's mouth began to tumble and her eyes pooled with tears. Jimmy found it slightly ironic that after what she had been through in the last hour or so, it was he who had made her cry. There was an ache of guilt welling in his belly; humiliated and alone wasn't exactly how he wanted to make Catherine feel.
"I didn't mean it like that, Catherine."
"Aye, ya did."
Now he just felt like an idiot for trying to make her feel better, while utterly failing instead.
"If Fiona finds out, it could ruin both of us." He raked his fingers through his hair. "Believe me when I say the last thing I want is for you to get in the crosshair."
While Catherine could appreciate Jimmy's desire to keep her out of the warpath of the woman he was cohabitating with, there wasn't much Fiona Larkin could do that would scare her.
"I'm not afraid of her, you know that."
Jimmy held up his hand to cease Catherine from talking. He didn't want to hear it anymore. He was tired of listening to her ramble off the reasons why they should give a relationship a try and most of all he was tired of listing off the reasons why it wouldn't work. Her lack of listening skills was also making him doubt her ability to take orders from him if she were ever to be voted into the True Army. If she couldn't listen to his reasoning now, how the hell could he trust her to listen when oil drums full of broken-down rifles were at stake?
A part of her saw that thinking in his eyes. Stepping outside of herself for a moment, Catherine looked at the situation. She could only tell herself that he was right. Fiona was known in east Belfast for her spiteful ways and once on her bad side, there was no chance of redemption. There was also no way Catherine would allow anyone to think that the only reason she was voted into the True Army was that she had any sort of sexual relationship with Jimmy.
"I can't thank you enough. Have no bloody idea what I would do without ya."
With his arms now crossed over his chest, Jimmy didn't make a single move as she stepped around him to make her way to the door. He truly didn't want to see her leave. He wanted her there with him, no longer wanting the emptiness of the house to consume him. Nonetheless, Jimmy was a smart enough man to know she couldn't stay the night, but there was something he could suggest.
Grabbing her arm, he stopped her before she could exit. "If you don't feel up to goin' to school tomorrow, you're more than welcome to hang out here."
He wasn't bullshitting her. By tomorrow morning, her face would be about three shades of black, blue, and purple, and no one would blame her for not wanting to sit in class all day.
"I appreciate that," she spoke in a low voice.
Leaning in, Catherine pressed a small kiss of gratitude to Jimmy's cheek before bidding him goodnight and goodbye.
