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Emmet doesn’t know how he manages to drive home. One of his eyes is already swelling and he can barely see out of it. His wrists are so painful, sending jolts of hot pain through his body every time he shifts gears, move the wheels or flicks the indicators. He can’t really feel his feet either and there are several times when he wants to throw up from the pain in his stomach and ribs. He gets home though and staggers through the door. Sam is waiting in the kitchen and rushes to him, catching him as his strength finally begins to give out.

“Oh my god, Em!” she cries as she drags him to a chair. “What happened to you?”

“I got beaten up,” he says. It’s obvious what happened, why does he even need to tell her? “Can you help me get my shirt off?”

He winces and groans as she helps taking his top off and shuffles enough so that she can get the rest of his clothes off, stripping him down to his boxers. She rushes to get ice and kitchen roll and starts to tend to his injuries.

“Who did this to you?” she asks as she hands him an ice pack wrapped in a tea towel for his eye.

“Just a bunch of kids,” he says quickly, not wanting to tell her who it really was. He doesn’t want her to know that he was jumped for people he’s pissed off. She already moans at him enough for dealing in the first place. “They took everything I made though, all £1,400 of the money.”

“Shit,” she says, sitting back on the floor. “That was the security money. My jewellery.”

“I know babe,” he says softly. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have stayed out so long.”

“You’re sorry?” she cries, “You’re fucking sorry?! That stuff is worth a fortune and you gave it to some dodgy bloke you barely know. Do you even know what you gave him? One of them was my grandma’s necklace, she gave it to me before she died. We’re never getting it back.”

“We will!” Emmet insists, “I’ll make sure that we get it back, I promise. I just need a little more time.”

“You always need a little more time,” she snarls. “When will you pack it in and grow up? You’re always coming up with these stupid ideas to make money and you never follow through with them. You just end up fucking things up and having nothing to show for it.”

“I got the money didn’t I?” Emmet snaps, “I managed to sell all of those boxes and I bet people are going to want more. I just lost it all when I got jumped. That’s not my fault.”

“You shouldn’t have even been there at that time of night,” Sam says, “What were you thinking? You know how rough that area is and you just wander around with a wad of cash in your pocket like no one can touch you.”

“Well I learnt my lesson now haven’t I?” Emmet snarls, “I know not to do it again. But I also know that I can make money with those boxes and that I can go legit. We’ll be sorted for ages once I get this stuff going properly.”

“Bullshit!” Sam shouts. “You’ve fucked up again, lost my jewellery and you’re not going to be able to get any more boxes because Johnny won’t take your crap.”

“Give it a rest,” Emmet groans, “Don’t you ever stop talking?!”

Sam stares at him, her mouth flaps open and closed. He’s never spoken to her like that. Ever. He feels a sting of regret and guilt in his stomach as soon as the words leave his mouth and he sees the wounded look on her face. It’s gone within seconds though when she glares at him and storms from the room. He sighs heavily and continues mopping up his injuries from where she stopped.

His phone rings, breaking the silence in the kitchen. Emmet hobbles over but whoever was calling has stopped, tired of waiting for him to pick up. He takes the phone back to the table and returns to cleaning himself up. He glances at the screen though and sees that it’s Johnny Boy. He’s called seven or eight times. Emmet thinks he knows what he wants. He wonders how he didn’t hear the calls or feel the phone vibrating in his pocket. Then again he was in a lot of pain and wasn’t really paying much attention to anyone else.

When the phone rings again he answers it this time.

“Hey,” he says quickly, “This is a really bad time mate.”

“Don’t mate me,” Johnny snaps. “You got my money for the boxes? And for the 21 you want in your next order?”

“I’ll have it,” Emmet says quickly, not wanting to tell the guy the truth. The last thing he wants is Johnny thinking that he’s playing him and is full of shit, just like Johnny said. “I’ll call you when I’m ready, just need to sort out some stuff in my personal life first, usual bullshit’s come up.”

“Don’t leave me waiting too long,” Johnny warns. “I wait too long and I sell the jewellery, don’t care how important it is to you.”

The phone goes dead and Emmet puts it on the table with a sigh.

“Johnny Boy again?” Sam says from behind him, making him jump in surprise, “I notice you didn’t tell him you got robbed.”

“I tell him that and I lose your jewellery,” Emmet says tonelessly, “Did you want that to happen?”

“It wouldn’t even be happening if you hadn’t given it to him,” Sam says quickly. “You just chucked it at him like it was yours to give and didn’t even care. Now you’re lying to him, or you’re lying to him and fucking up everything, just like usual.”

Emmet gets dressed while Sam continues to moan at him, wincing as the movement pulls out his injuries. He goes to the door and lets himself out. He smirks a little when he hears Sam’s indignant shriek. He’s had enough of her shouting at him, insulting him all of the time. It feels more and more lately like the only time that she actually talks to him is to moan at him and to pick fault in everything that he does. There’s no support, no nothing from her. She wasn’t even worried that he’d been beaten up once she knew that he’d had the money taken. She’d been completely focused on herself. Emmet grumbles in the back of his throat and steps away from the door.

“Penny for your thoughts?” a voice says from behind him.

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