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Niall Lynch, the one person in the world that his middle son completely believed in, was dead. Not just dead, but murdered, in his very own driveway. Left for dead, by cold-hearted lowlives who deserved every hell there ever was or will be.
Ronan Lynch’s world shattered that day into a million sharp pieces that would pierce not only him but countless others for the rest of his life. It slammed to a stop, and time froze. One of the supreme spirits was ripped away so swiftly that even the Earth itself was in shock. But it couldn’t stay that way. People began to move on, speaking in hushed whispers about the poor Lynch family. Or what was left of them, anyway. Without Niall Lynch, the enigma, all that was left was silence.
The property was to remain undisturbed forevermore, their mother likewise, and the three sons were to spend all their time at the prestigious Aglionby Academy. The youngest and the oldest sons were willing to follow these commands without hesitation, knowing it was decided for the best. Naturally, the middle son would not. Ronan Lynch was identical to his father in more ways than he wasn’t, and their strong-willed spirits were no exception.
He shouted, cursed, and fought out his anger. He drank, and forced himself to stay awake just to drink more. Ronan wasn’t quite sure where he was, but it looked like some sort of candle-lit church. Eventually, sleep refused to follow his petulant demands and overtook him.
His dreams attacked him in lethargic strides. Trees twisted around him, shouted Latin at him, monsters tugging at his hair and arms. He shouted back, sharp words scratching his throat and tongue. Somewhere above him, crows cawed a distorted lullaby. He screamed about the injustice of the world. The trees screamed back, and the monsters laughed their pity. The dream would never end.
What could have been years later, Ronan woke up. He was still in the church but now sunlight streamed through the stained glass. He stumbled out slowly, and made his way back to the home they were trying to take from him, but never would.
There was nothing left to do now, except to take his father’s BMW. What else could he have possibly done other than show defiance to the world that had spited him? The car smelled like danger and pride, a fragrance that would soon overtake him as well.
When he got to the dorm he was staying at, the one that he would abandon for Monmouth Manufacturing in less than a week, he was hardly surprised that the nightmare had latched itself onto his back and would stay there forever.