“My mother was the person upon whom he focused most of his suffering. As a boy, I was forced to watch as he beat and humiliated her, unable to do anything about it. Even worse was that she was too kind for this world, and she loved me dearly. I always felt that my father resented how much she cared for me, and the more she loved me, the worse he treated her.”
That was one of the main reasons that Ronan was so cautious when it came to love. He had seen firsthand the consequences of caring for another, equating love with suffering because that was all he had ever known.
“I was ten when my mother left, unable to take my father’s cruelty any longer. She left in the night…” His chin started to wobble, and he wiped his eyes because he did not want the tears to show. “She did not say goodbye. She did not… she did not tell me that she was leaving. One day she was simply gone, and I have not heard from her since.”
“Oh, Ronan…” Her voice cracked and she reached for his shoulder, which had him pulling away as if in shame.
“That only turned my father’s anger onto me…” His jaw clenched and he forced down the memories of the beating he used to receive, the pain he lived through. “For years, I was his to do with as he pleased. Done so under the claim that he was toughening me up, making a man out of me.” He scoffed. “Really, he just did it because he liked the way it made him feel.” He took a ragged breath, struggling to go on.
“And then what happened?” she asked as if she knew he needed the push.
“I was eighteen when I’d had enough…” He stared at his feet, remembering the night that had changed his life forever. “My father and I were hunting, done so often as another means to toughen me. I…” His voice cracked. “Truly, I don’t remember it exactly. I think I have blocked the memory. But my father—he was standing by a cliff—berated me for missing a shot that I should have made. He was screaming at me, spittle flying from his mouth, his face red with madness, and I snapped.” He winced and wanted nothing more than to stand, turn and run.
He could still feel Thalia watching him, and this time when she rested a hand on his shoulder he did not pull away.
“I had the gun pointed on him…” His voice turned distant. “I cannot even say if I meant to shoot. I think… I think I just wanted him to know that I could, if he did not stop. That I was man enough.” He winced again, chin trembling, body shaking. “My father was a man of few words, so rather than trying to talk me down, he turned his rifle on me and pulled the trigger before I had the chance.”
Thalia gasped. “He shot you?”
Subconsciously, Ronan touched the scar on his face. Even after all these years, he could still feel the way it had burned when the bullet grazed him.
“He did,” he said. “Lucky that he missed. Lucky that I fired back before he could get off another. My eyes were closed, blood everywhere. I…” He took a ragged breath, body trembling so the floorboards shook. “I remember hearing the gunshot, staying perfectly still as I listened for my father to shoot me dead. But when he didn’t, I opened my eyes, and he was…” He swallowed and shook his head. “He was gone.”
“Ronan…” She squeezed his shoulder.
Ronan pictured that day as clear as if it was just yesterday. He could still remember stumbling to the edge of the cliff where he peered over to see his father’s corpse. He could still remember how he had wanted to feel guilty about what he had done, how he had known that he should have been taken with shame and sadness and hurt.
But most of all, what he remembered was how little he had cared. Worse was how good it had felt.
“I killed him.” He spoke in a whisper, as if hoping Thalia would not hear. “And I was glad for it. I…” Finally, he forced himself to meet her eyes, and when the tears began to pool, he didn’t wipe them away. “I am not a good person, Thalia. I don’t deservegood things—love or happiness or any of that. I might not be my father, but I can feel him living inside me.”
“Ronan… if you think that you are your father, I have some good news for you. Nothing I have seen or experienced is anything like the man you described. You are not him.”
“Because I won’t let him out,” Ronan said. “But he is there—how else can you explain what I did? That I killed my own blood and didn’t shed a single tear.” He could feel the tears now, dripping down his cheek. “The only person I ever loved left me. The other person, he who should have loved me, I killed. What does that say about me? What kind of person does that make me?”
And there it was. The confession.
It was a darkness that had lived inside Ronan his entire life. The monster which lurked constantly, always threatening to come out. Ronan refused to give it that chance, terrified of what would happen if he ever gave in to his emotions. Better that he locked himself away and refused love so that those he cared for wouldn’t be hurt.
And now that he had someone to care for, someone to love, he was terrified of what would happen to them. All he wanted to do was protect and keep Thalia and Olivia safe. But could he do such a thing? Or would he end up hurting them?
“I know you think you are a monster,” Thalia said carefully and slowly.
“I am.”
“You think you are, Ronan…” She still held him by the shoulder, and the look she had in her eyes was one of pain and sadness. “But as I said, nothing I have seen?—”
“You do not know the real me.”
“I do,” she said rightly. “I have seen the real you—the side of yourself that you refuse to show. You think that a monster lives inside of you? You think that is what you are hiding from?” She shook her head. “As I see it, nothing could be further from the truth. You are kind and gentle and caring. You took me in, and Olivia, looking after us and protecting us?—”
“Because I had no choice.”
“Is that what you think?”
“It is the truth.”
She smiled softly as she looked down at him. “Maybe that is true. Maybe it isn’t. But you fought so hard to keep me at a distance. You might have failed miserably, but you did it to try and keep me safe.”
