A family torn

Ryan's words dripped with venom as he glared at his mother. "You just stand there, claiming you know me, as if you've ever actually cared."

His mother's face contorted in a mix of guilt and regret. "Ryann, I'm so sorry...about everything. Why didn't you tell me Ana started her period? That's way too early."

Ryan's expression remained cold. "The doctor said there's no cause for alarm. She's fine."

His mother took a step forward, her eyes pleading. "Ryann, I know I've been a bad parent, but I do know you. And I know you wouldn't...you wouldn't get a girl pregnant without even knowing her."

Ryan's voice was laced with disdain. "I'm not even sure you remember my age, Mom."

With that, Ryan turned and walked away, his feet carrying him from the parlor, across the foyer, and towards the stairs. The staircase, with its intricately carved banister and plush carpet, seemed to stretch up endlessly, a silent witness to the tension between Ryan and his mother.

As he climbed the stairs, the soft creak of the steps beneath his feet seemed to echo through the silence. Ryan's eyes fixed on the door to his room, his sanctuary, his escape from the drama unfolding below.

He reached the top of the stairs, turned down the hallway, and pushed open his bedroom door. The soft click of the door closing behind him was a welcome respite from the argument, a chance for Ryan to collect his thoughts and process the emotions swirling inside him.

His mother's voice followed him, shouting through the door. "Bring her tomorrow, Ryann! Your father won't be home till next week!"

Ryan's eyes narrowed as he pushed open his bedroom door, his voice tinged with surprise. "What do you mean Dad won't be home till next week?" he asked, his gaze locking onto his mother's.

His mother's expression was evasive. "He traveled. I don't know the full details, but he took a plane and won't be back for a week."

Ryan's eyes widened as understanding dawned. "Now that explains why you were smiling earlier," he said, his tone laced with sarcasm. "It's good news, huh?"

His mother's smile faltered, and she looked away. "Ana's at Margaret's," she said.

Ryan's expression turned stern. "You shouldn't have let her go there, Mom. Her brother is a pedophile."

His mother's eyes dropped, shame written across her face. Ryan's voice rose, his anger and frustration boiling over. "I told you that before, but then I'm sure you don't even remember."

His mother's voice cracked with a mix of anger and fear. "You know he's dangerous, Mom. Why do you keep putting Ana in danger?"

"What do you mean I keep putting Ana in danger?" his mother asked, her voice rising with frustration. "You were nowhere to be found, and she wouldn't stop asking if I knew where you went. Margaret showed up, and they went out together. I warned her to stay out of trouble."

Ryan's eyes narrowed. "You knew she was going to Margaret's house? You knew she was going to be alone with him?"

His mother looked away, her voice shrinking to a whisper. "She insisted. I couldn't stop her."

"You always say you can't stop her. But you could have.

His mother's voice was a mere whisper, choked with remorse. "I know, Ryann. I'm sorry."

"Ryann I know I haven't been the best mother, but you can't disrespect me like this, I won't accept you slamming the door to my face," she said with a teary face.

Ryan, hearing how his mother was sounding, opened the door again. "Why does it look like you want to cry now, Mum? This is why Dad always has his way. You can't just cry at everything. You have to be confident, Mum. I'm your son, so treat me like one."

"Ryann, that's enough," she said as tears rolled down her cheeks. "Your father treats me anyhow, now you talk to me anyhow too. You can't talk to a lady like that, no matter who it is."

"I'm sorry, Mum," he said, closing back his door gently.

The silence settled back in the room, heavy with unspoken words and unspoken truths. Ryan felt a twinge of regret, a flicker of remorse for his harsh words. He knew his mother was fragile, broken by years of her father's abuse and her own inability to break free. Yet, he couldn't help but feel a deep sense of resentment, a frustration fueled by his own helplessness and the pain of his own broken family.

He looked at his phone, a message from Rachel flashing on the screen: "I'm at the park. Come soon."