Page 172

The real monsters weren’t hiding under my bed.
They were inside my own home.
I double over, sobs wracking my body. Uncle Marc moves to sit beside me, wrapping me in his arms.
“Shhh. Your father loved you very much.”
I blink back tears. “He didn’t. He hated me. What did I do?”
Marc squeezes me. “You did nothing wrong. He didn’t hate you. You were the one light in his darkness, though he struggled to show it. Despite everything, you were still his little girl.”
“Why? Why couldn’t he see how much I needed him? That mom needed him?”
“Sometimes the monsters we battle are in our minds, our hearts. Your father fought them every day. He tried. For you. But in the end, they overpowered him.”
My heart splinters, and for the first time, I allow myself to grieve for the man my father could have been. Knowing that even though he couldn’t save himself from the darkness, he still tried his best to protect me from it.
After what feels like hours, my tears slowly ebb. Levi sits at the windowsill, and Landon leans against the wall.
“You okay?” Uncle Marc asks.
I nod, my throat tight. “Yeah, I’m okay. But there’s still something I don’t understand.” I glance between Uncle Marc and my brothers. “Why do you blame John for what happened? And why was Sebastian there that day?”
“Your mother, she called me that day,” Uncle Marc says. “But I was on a business trip, up in the air. I didn’t get the message until it was too late.”
My heart clenches, imagining my mother’s desperation, her fear.
“In her panic, your mother also called John. She begged him to get you out of the house. She was terrified. Absolutely terrified.”
Tears sting in my eyes once more.
“Your father probably overheard the conversation. In his mind, your mother telling John to save you was proof that you were John’s daughter. Even though it wasn’t true.”
Anger and sorrow war within me. How could my father have been so consumed by his delusions?
“John had Sebastian with him that day. So they drove straight to the mansion, not wanting to waste a second.”
“We told Sebastian to keep quiet about what he saw. About what he did,” Levi says.
“So, if they helped. Why—”
“Because John is the reason my brother was jealous.” Uncle Marc stands up, pacing the room. “John was his fixation. If John didn’t exist, my brother would have been fine. If Rose hadn’t called John, everything would have been fine. If I had picked up my phone, I could have prevented it…” Marc’s voice raises. “John was there when I wasn’t. When your parents… I should have stopped my brother before—”
“Uncle Marc—”
“But I didn’t because I couldn’t bear locking my brother in some mental hospital. In the beginning, I even believed in his madness, and Rose lost her trust in me.”
The room is quiet except for Uncle Marc’s heavy breathing. His pain seeps into every crevice of the room, thick and suffocating. The weight of his guilt, his regret, his anger—everything. And I get it. I really do.
He’s been carrying this burden for years, blaming himself for not being there when Mom and Dad needed him most. For not seeing the signs earlier, for not getting Dad the help he so desperately needed.
And then there’s John Barron. The man who seemingly had it all. The one who always outshone my father, even in the darkest moments. I can see how easy it would be for Uncle Marc to transfer all that pain, all that anger, onto him.
Onto the Barrons.
But it’s not fair. It’s not right.
Uncle Marc’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “That night, after it happened, John and I… we had a terrible fight. Screaming and punching. We barely spoke until you met Sebastian in college and got close to him and his sister.”