Ronan was always the one to find his dead family members; it didn’t seem fair. It wasn’t that he wanted his brothers to be the ones to have to bear the emotional wound of discovering the bodies. He just didn’t want it to be him. He had been the one to find his father’s body in the driveway outside their farmhouse, skull, meet tire iron. He had been the one to find his mother’s body in the dying ruins of Cabeswater, a dream, extruded.
