Prologue

“I see the moon, the moon sees me, shining through the leaves of the old oak tree, Oh, let the light that shine on me, shine on the one I love,” me mum sang, swayin’ the rocker back and forth.

The nighttime breeze whistled through the open window, cooling the sticky summer air. I blinked my eyes hard and stared at the bright moon hanging high up in the sky. Me mum rocked my baby brother, Aidan, back and forth in the rocker. She loved to sing her lullabies to help us fall asleep. Her voice was soft and happy, and it always made my heart warm. Safe.

She had a beautiful voice. One that I loved to hear. Me mum should be heard on the radio, so people all around the world could appreciate her pretty voice.

As my mum started the second verse of her song, there was a loud sound in the hallway past our apartment building. A crashing sound. Voices calling out. Noise was normal in our building, as we lived in the city and there were bad men and druggies nearby. So most of the time, we didn’t pay any attention to the sounds of another fight in the hallway. It was no different than hearing the sound of an airplane going by overhead, or the sound of a car horn out on the street.

Shutting out the noises, she continued singing, raising her voice louder and louder to cover up the racket.

Over the mountain, over the sea,back where my heart is longing to be

Oh, let the light that shines on meshine on the one I love.

The noise from the hallway got louder, closer. Mum’s eyes cut to the doorway and I saw the first hint of nervousness in her eyes, but she continued to sing louder. The sound of a heavy bang was followed by splintering wood and the sound of something crashing in the living room. My mother stopped singing, and I saw genuine fear in her eyes. The commotion caused me to jump up from my bed, my heart pounding so hard it hurt as I stared wide eyed at the doorway.

“What’s that—”

“No need to worry, my son,” Mum said, laying me brother into his crib before tucking me in to bed with a kiss on the forehead. “Your mum will handle it.”

“Police. We have a warrant,” I heard from the other room.

The police were good, or so I’d learned from the television. They wouldn’t hurt us. They would help us. That’s what I’d always been told. But why were they here in our house? Why had they broken through the door?

My brother, Aidan, cried from his crib. Mum didn’t go over to him, though. Instead, with a scared look on her face, she pulled something from her pocket. It glimmered in the moonlight, reminding me of a toy I’d once gotten for my birthday. But there was more metal, and it made a distinct but strange clicking sound as my mother’s fingers caressed it.

“You stay here now, my love. And remember that I love you, sons. I will always love you, no matter what,” me mum said, walking toward the door. “Take care of your brother, Flynn. Always. Be sure that you look after your little brother. He’s going to need you.”

Take care of him? I was too little, what was she—

With one last look at me that was filled with so much love and warmth, Mum stepped out of the room, closing the door behind her. Loud banging broke out, and our apartment was filled with shouts and screams. Terrified, I crawled back into my bed and covered my head with my blanket, hoping to hide from whatever it was. The police were there to protect us, I kept telling myself. They were there to save us from whatever bad thing was happening out there. They had to be. If not, why were they here?

The screaming and shouting seemed to go on forever, and my heart thundered through all of it. But once things quieted down, I was brave enough to pull the blanket from over my head and climb from my bed. Slowly, I tiptoed to the door just as it swung open, almost hitting me. I stared up into the eyes of a police officer. He looked down at me, his eyes not unkind, but his face covered in blood. The blood scared me and I wondered how it got there.

None of it made any sense to me. Tears stung my eyes as I tried to be brave, tried to figure out where me mum had gone and what had happened.

“There are kids in here!” the officer shouted.

“Get ‘em out of there!” another one called out.

The cop picked me up, covering my eyes with his hands, but it was no use. I pulled away from him, fighting and kicking as he tried to take me from my home. Tried to take me away from me mum. I kicked him hard enough that he shouted out in pain and dropped me.

Free from him, I ran down the hallway and into the living room—even more officers were there and they all looked at me with surprised expressions on their faces. And then I saw her. I ran over to me mum who was hurt and bleeding on the floor. I dropped to my knees beside her and looked at her.

“Mummy,” I cried, touching her face. “Mummy, wake up!”

She didn’t move and she was bleeding on the floor. “Mummy!” The cop grabbed me again, this time, his grip even tighter than before. I kicked against him, shouting for someone to help me—to help me mum—but he carried me outside. I couldn’t help Mum from outside, why wouldn’t someone help her? Where was me brother? The man placed me in the back seat of a cop car, and I hugged my legs to my chest and cried out for anyone to help me.

“We didn’t find him. He wasn’t in there,” I heard an officer say to another. “It was just his wife, who came out shooting. We had no choice. We had to respond. Thankfully, we were ready, though, and took her out without suffering any major casualties. The downside, of course, is that there was no sign of O’Brien anywhere.”

“Think she knew we were coming?”

“Had to. But I don’t know who would have tipped them off,” the officer said. “It’s just a shame she had to die for her old man.”

I would never understand what he meant by that, and it was a question that haunted me for most of my life. Some might even say that what happened that night shaped the monster I became.