Page 19

Chapter Eighteen

Ronan

The car came to a stop in the hospital parking lot, but I didn’t feel relieved. The moment we arrived, the weight of everything that had led me here hit me like a brick.

I wanted to get out of the car, wanted to escape the tension that was suffocating us, but the second I glanced at the hospital looming in front of me, all I could see was my mom—broken by the man she refused to leave, barely alive, strung out on fucking heroin.

Her bruised face, her body hooked to machines, and all I could hear was the sound of her ragged breath, the rhythmic beeping that haunted me for days. Too many times I had re-lived this scenario. Too many fucking times had I been in this hospital clinging to a parent that didn’t even care to live. I had to live for us both.

It hurt more this time. The fact I had her clean, had her showering, fixed up the trailer. This was a slap in the face for leaving. She should have come with me. She didn’t have to be here. Didn’t have to be fucking broken yet again by that monster.

“Hurry up,” I muttered, not even looking at Elias.

His presence felt like an added burden right now, but I couldn’t ignore the fact that he was still with me. He was still following me like some goddamn ghost, his footsteps heavy behind mine.

The doors of the car slammed shut with a finality I didn’t want to acknowledge, and I felt the cold air hit me. The snow falling around us made me think of that fucking forest, and I growled, shaking my head to rid myself of the memories.

The hospital was everything I hated—sterile, indifferent to the pain of the people inside. I wanted to scream. I wanted to break something the way he broke Miranda. I wanted to scream at her, at Jack, at the world for letting this happen yet again to my stupid fucking mother.

But I just kept walking, feet moving on autopilot toward the hospital’s entrance.

Elias didn’t say anything, but I could feel him there. I could feel his hesitation as if he wasn’t sure whether he was welcome or not. But unwilling to ask.

I didn’t care.

Not right now.

Right now, I had to focus on her. The world was falling apart around me, yet, as always, I was the only one who could somehow hold it together.

The air inside the hospital was cold and sterile, and the smell of antiseptic and old people wafted through the air. I could hear the soft beeping of machines and the murmur of hushed voices. It felt like everything was a world apart from the chaos I’d left behind. I didn’t belong here.

“Can I help you?” The nurse at the front desk looked at me with that practiced smile like she had seen every desperate face walking through those doors. It didn’t faze her. I was in no mood to pretend I gave a shit, either.

“Miranda Saint Clare” I said, my voice barely above a whisper, like saying it any louder might shatter what little resolve I had left. “She was brought here for a heroin overdose and domestic assault.”

She tapped away at the computer, not even bothering to make eye contact, but I felt the weight of her gaze, even if she couldn’t see me. She didn’t have to—she could probably tell just by the way I was standing. My hands were shaking, my breath shallow.

“Room 304,” she said, finally looking up at me with an expression that was unreadable. “She’s in critical care. Are you her son? You look familiar.”

I nodded, not trusting myself to say anything else.

“Take a seat. Someone will be with you shortly.”

I didn’t sit. I couldn’t. I needed to move. I needed to get to her and get this fucking shit over with.

I didn’t even glance at Elias as I turned away from the desk and started down the hallway in long strides. My steps echoed in the empty space, and for a moment, I let myself believe that I could outrun the noise in my head, the actions of what had led to this.

Heroin, and beaten…I wanted to scream. I wanted to rage at the world that had taken my mom and turned her into something unrecognizable. She always struggled, but she had gotten better. She worked on getting off this hard shit. I saw her go to the meetings for years.

Why now?

Why give in to her dangerous temptation?

She was my fucking mom. She had raised me in the only way she knew how, and she had been the only person who’d come close to loving me, and now she was just another stupid-ass addict. Another statistic. Another body in this wasteland of forgotten.

I wasn’t going to let her die, not like this. She was not giving up after everything.

The door to her room loomed ahead of me. I reached for the handle, but my hand hovered, trembling.

I didn’t want to open that door.

I didn’t want to see her like this.

I didn’t want to see the bruises on her face, the track marks on her arms, the way her body seemed so frail, so distant from the woman who had once told me that no matter what, we would be okay. The woman who promised she would stop that shit for me.

But I couldn’t run away. Not this time.

I turned the knob and stepped inside.

My mom was lying in the bed, a mess of wires and machines surrounding her. The faint beeping of a heart monitor was the only sound in the room. Her face was white, her pale skin thin and bruised, all the colors of the fucking rainbow embedded on her skin, her body covered in marks from someone else’s violence.

Her eyes were closed, her breath ragged and shallow. The nurse had told me that she had overdosed, but it didn’t make sense. My mom wasn’t a junkie anymore. She had just…gotten caught up in something, and its name was Jack.

I walked up to the side of her bed and sat down in the chair beside her. My hands reached out, but I stopped myself, unsure if I could touch her without shattering.

“Mom,” I whispered, my voice shaking, those fucking tears rolled down my cheeks, and my entire soul cracked under the weight of everything. “Mom, it’s me. Ronan. I’m here.”

Her eyelids fluttered, and I held my breath, praying for a response.

But it was fleeting.

The drugs, the damage—they had taken too much of her away. She wasn’t waking up, not like this. If she had any chance of opening her eyes again, it was only time that would help her now.

I felt Elias step into the room behind me, the soft creak of the door giving him away. I didn’t look at him. I didn’t want to. Not when everything felt so wrong. So broken.

He stood there in the doorway, uncertain. I could feel his eyes on me, his fucking sympathy, but it was like a weight I didn’t need right now. I didn’t need to think about him. Not when my mother was barely holding on to life.

“Don’t just stand there,” I snapped, the words sharper than I meant. I couldn’t stop myself. “If you’re going to be here, then fucking be here. If you want to pretend, then get the fuck out of here.”

Elias didn’t answer. He didn’t move. And that made me angrier because I didn’t know what I wanted him to do. I didn’t know what I needed. But I sure as hell didn’t need him hovering in the background like he was some damn secret.

My mom’s pulse beeped steadily, the sound hollow in my ears. I looked at her face again, the bruises, the signs of the violence she’d endured. And I couldn’t hold it in any longer—words I always wanted to say began flowing out my mouth like vomit.

“Why? Why did you let this happen, Miranda?” I whispered, my voice breaking. “Why couldn’t you just…fight? I changed your fucking locks. You only had to kick his ass out. You let yourself be ruined. And you may not even come back from this one, you dumb stupid bitch.”

There was no answer. There was only silence, only the sound of machines that were keeping her alive and my sobs.

And that’s when I felt Elias move beside me, closer now, his presence like a shadow hanging over me until his hand linked into mine. His grip was silent but strong.

I could feel his weight beside me, his awkwardness, the tension that hadn’t left either of us since the club, but he didn’t leave.

So why did it not matter to me anymore?

Nothing mattered except the fact that my mother, the only family I ever fucking had, was slipping away, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do to stop it.

The room felt colder as the minutes ticked by. The silence hung heavy between us, pressing down like an unspoken truth. I couldn’t seem to shake the image of my mom—the way she looked, all bruised and broken.

Her body was lying there like it didn’t even matter anymore. And somehow, that thought hit me harder than anything else. No one ever cared about Miranda. The town just pretended to give a shit while whispering behind her back the second after they offered her a smile.

I let out a shaky breath, swallowing back the lump in my throat that felt like it was going to choke me. Every time I thought I could breathe, every time I thought I could handle it, another wave of helplessness would crash into me. It was too much, too much for one person to carry.

I could feel Elias beside me, close enough that his presence was almost a comfort, but I couldn’t make myself look at him. I was scared that if I did, the dam would break, and the flood of everything I was trying to hold back would come pouring out.

But his hand was still in mine, gentle but firm, like a lifeline. He didn’t ask me to speak, didn’t force anything on me. He just…let me exist in the space between everything, in the place where I didn’t know how to breathe.

“Ronan, it’s okay to feel this. You’re not weak for being upset. Miranda is strong, and she will make it through this. Believe in God’s will.”

His words cut through the fog in my mind, and for a split second, I almost let myself believe them. But it felt like if I let myself feel everything at once, I’d shatter into a thousand pieces.

How could I let him see me like this?

How could I let anyone see that I wasn’t strong enough? I spent my entire life not letting myself break so that I could hold everyone else up.

I didn’t know how to answer him, so I didn’t. Instead, I just closed my eyes tighter and focused on the sound of my breathing.

But then, the door to the room creaked open. I didn’t have to look to smell the alcohol and stench that was ingrained in my fucking brain.

Jack.

I felt my blood boil before I even turned to face him. I wanted to say something, to tell him to get the fuck out, but I couldn’t find the words. I could feel Elias tense beside me, but he said nothing.

He knew what was coming.

I watched him from the screen of her machines.

Jack stood in the doorway, arms crossed, looking like he owned the world. His eyes flicked over to me, that sick smirk curling on his lips.

“Well, well…Look at the little crybaby come to coddle his mommy. You really think you’re some kind of protector now? Look at her,” he gestured to my mom, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

“You did this to her. Your pretty words got her here. She got brave from your fucking mouth, and I had no choice but to knock her down back to where she belongs. So much easier to control when she got that needle in her. Boy, she did fight me, though. Like mother, like son, I guess. Don’t matter no more. She ain’t getting up now.”

I couldn’t breathe.

I couldn’t think.

My hands clenched into fists so tightly I thought my nails pierced my palms, and the blood bubbled.

He forced Miranda to use.

She resisted him, and he beat her. The story clicked into place, and my stomach sank, and my blood boiled.

“Shut the fuck up, you goddamn monster,” I heard myself say, and the words barely sounded like mine.

Jack just laughed like he had all the time in the world.

He was proud.

“What? You’re gonna stop me? You’re gonna protect her now? You couldn’t even protect yourself, you fucking idiot. Got your little guard dog to hump ya later, too, I see.”

I saw red.

His words cut through me, slicing into the anger that had been simmering in my chest. Anger at her. Anger at him. Anger at myself. I wanted to hit him, wanted to do anything to make him feel what I had been feeling for years.

Before I thought about it, I stood, my hands pushing against Elias’s arm as I tried to shove past him. I needed to do something—anything. I couldn’t let him get away with it, not this time. I was going to fucking kill him.

“Ronan, stop!” Elias’s voice was sharp, but it was too late.

I was already across the room, shoving Jack up against the wall with every ounce of strength I had.

“You don’t get to talk about him like that. You want to push someone around? How about a fucking man? Or are you too much a coward to go after anyone but a weak woman.”

Jack’s smirk faltered for a split second, but it quickly returned. He didn’t flinch. Instead, he shoved me back. The force knocked me off balance, and I fell back into the opposite wall. I could feel my blood pulsing in my ears, the adrenaline crashing through my veins.

“Do you think you’re a man now? You think you can take me on?” Jack’s voice was thick with derision. “You’re nothing, just like your piece of shit, mother. I raised you, boy. I raised you to be a fucking man, and you ain’t nothing but a weak, pathetic faggot.”

Click.

Before I could stop myself, my fist flew, landing with a sickening thud against his jaw. The sound of bone-on-bone echoed through the room, and I felt a sense of satisfaction for a brief moment.

But Jack was quick, and he retaliated—grabbing me by the collar and slamming me against the wall with brutal force. I bit my tongue, and blood filled my mouth.

“Oh, how cute. You don’t like bein’ called out for suckin’ dick,” he spat, his breath hot and rancid against my face. “You smell like him, you nasty ass.”

The world seemed to spin. Rage filled my every pore, and I couldn’t even think. I wanted to hit him again. I wanted to break him, make him feel all the pain I had been carrying.

But then, a hand was on my shoulder, pulling me back, and I looked up to find Elias standing there, his eyes wide with urgency.

“Ronan, stop. Think about your mom. He’s not worth it. Just call the cops, and he will be where he deserves to be for what he’s done.”

I shook him off, spitting blood onto the floor, my chest heaving as the anger burned hot in my veins.

“He deserves this, Elias. He deserves to feel what he’s done to my mother.”

“No, he doesn’t,” Elias said, his voice steady and calm. “You don’t have to fight him. This won’t fix anything. Let the cops do their job. He won’t be able to get away from the evidence.”

I turned to face Elias, my eyes wild, my whole body trembling.

“I can’t…I can’t do this anymore. I can’t let him hurt her again. I can’t let him hurt me. He has ruined my whole fucking life. I left you because of him, Mon Pur. He told me he would hurt you.”

Elias faltered for a second at my words, but then he stepped closer, his voice softer but just as firm. “Ronan, you don’t have to do this. I’m here.”

I felt the weight of his words sink in, and for a moment, it was enough. The adrenaline started to fade, and the anger, though still there, lost some of its heat. Jack hadn’t left yet, but now I couldn’t bring myself to care about him anymore.

I just needed to breathe.

And then, I looked at my mom again—broken and hurt in that bed—and I realized something. I couldn’t keep fighting this alone. I needed Elias. Maybe more than I was willing to admit. I always needed him.

“Awe, how cute. The Jesus humper wants your dick, too.” Jack said, turning to Elias and getting right in his face. “You fuck ‘em in that ol’ church of yours, boy? How disgraceful. You ain’t no man of God. A faggot can’t lead no sheep to nothin’ but their own damn slaughter. Shame on you, you fucking queer.”

Elias’s face fell, and I felt his body physically deflate. He believed the words. I could see it in his eyes as they lost their beautiful blue coloring and seemed to turn to a deep, ashen gray. The rage I felt simmer moments before blew up into an inferno that burned me from within. I was blind. My fury controlled my actions while my body followed like a distant spirit.

I picked up the visitor chair beside Miranda’s bed, smashing the metal into his back, knocking him to the ground, and continued to smash the furniture onto his body over and over. I couldn’t feel anything, a numbness consuming my entire being and bringing with me a peace that made me feel as if I was floating over his damaged body.

That smile remained on Jack’s face—a knowing leer of the devil.

“You dumb fuck,” he said, all the other voices blurring except his.

Hands were tugging me backward, hospital personnel swarming around me like flies, people shouting at me, but Jack was there. Smiling. He was bleeding and injured from my assault, but unlike my mother, he wasn’t broken.

“This ain’t over, boy,” he said as he was hauled away by people in uniforms. “I will get you back for this. You better pray real hard because your little boyfriend will burn in his fucking church for this. You just put the nails in his coffin.”

The numbness in my blood slowly dissipated, like water droplets slowly leaking from a small leak. Little by little, my vision returned. The sensation of being dragged was present. The image of the blood on my fists and body was visible.

Elias was walking beside me as police officers pulled me toward the exit of the hospital and toward flashing red and blue lights.

Jack was in another car behind the one I was being roughly shoved into. My wrists felt cold from the metal linked around them. Elias was arguing with the sheriffs. His words flickered through my haze. The soft urgency in the way he spoke.

“Please, You don’t understand, Officers. Jack threatened Ronan and me. This was self-defense.”

He was lying. Another sin my dear pure priest committed for me. I was nothing but corruption.

“That ain’t how it looked, Father. I’m sorry, but it ain’t up to me. We gotta take ‘em in. Ronan was the one with the chair, and Jack has multiple fractures on his arm. He ain’t hurt but for his fat lip. It don’t look good.”

Elias breathed heavily, his fear apparent in the way his eyes flickered to the patrol car, growing closer and closer. “No. You can’t arrest him for this. It was a mistake. I am responsible for provoking Jack. I am the one who deserves this punishment.”

The police officers froze, their bushy eyebrows bunching together in shock at a priest’s omission of guilt to violence.

“It wasn’t the fucking priest,” I said, spitting the blood that pooled in my mouth onto the ground. Elias glared as he stood in front of me, a silent pleading replacing the anger in his eyes. “It was me. I hit Jack. I am not fucking sorry, and I would do it again if you hadn’t stopped me, assholes.”

Elias sighed, shaking his head in defeat when the cop’s meaty hands got rougher, their feet moving toward the car in quicker succession. Elias was angry at me. I could see the defeat in his eyes from the back of the police car. The heavy door shut, locking me inside, and with it the peace and safety I felt with my priest.

He didn’t walk away.

He just stood there.

Snow collecting in his strawberry hair. The other left, the congested onlookers of both patients and hospital personnel. But Elias stayed. His strong hands were clasped in prayer, but his eyes didn’t leave mine.

I could still see his form when the vehicle sped off from the hospital parking lot. He wore those big, heavy black robes, his white collar, and the pain in his beautiful blue eyes.

I’d disappointed him again…the love of my life and the man of God.

He may have grown from all those years without me, but clearly, I was still the punk kid with a temper.

I didn’t change.

I was stuck in the past when he was mine.

When will I realize that the past is gone? He doesn’t belong to me. He never did.

If smashing my stepfather’s face in with a chair wasn’t evident enough to get that through my head, maybe being behind bars would.

Elias wasn’t the only one caged.