Messiah’s head landed in the center of Ethic’s chest as he sobbed, and Ethic tightened his face as he placed his hands on Messiah’s head. He knew Messiah wasn’t talking about Morgan anymore. He was talking about his childhood, about surviving molestation, about abuse confusing him, making him angry. He was talking about every single adult in his life that was supposed to protect him inflicting harm or disregard. Ethic couldn’t be another. Somebody had to step up. “I got you,” Ethic said. “I got you.”
