Page 167 of Edge of Unbroken

“No, I don’t think so. My grandparents get up at three or three-thirty every morning. My mom led me back to the house before my grandparents got up, and then she let me sleep the majority of the day. I was in so much pain and the freezing cold took a lot out of me.”

Like he has done with each incident Ronan has already spoken about, Mr. Cooley asks Ronan whether he told anyone about the night in the barn. Once again, I’m surprised when Ronan gives an answer other than what I had expected.

“Yeah,” he says, and my eyes as well as those of our friends and families are locked on him.

“Who did you tell?”

“My girlfriend at the time,” Ronan says. “She was the one I had been caught drinking with.”

“What’s her name?”

“Miranda. Miranda Jackson.”

The attorney scribbles something onto his notepad. “Is Miranda in Montana?”

Ronan shrugs. “I have no idea where she is.”

“Okay. Why did you tell her about what your mother did when you had never told anyone before?”

“I hadn’t planned on telling her anything. She just… she figured it out. She saw the bruises and she just kept asking me about it and then I just… I told her my mom had hit me.”

“Did you tell her only about your mom hitting you with the broom?”

“At first, yeah, but she kept asking me all these questions and eventually I told her everything,” he says, almost choking on his words.

“Ronan, did you ever tell anyone else that your mother hurt you?”

“Miranda was the only one who knew the full extent, but… my best friend Shane sort of figured things out about a year ago.”

Shane shifts in my periphery.

“When exactly was it that Shane figured things out?”

“It was around February of last year. We were at the gym with my brother and our buddy Zack. The night before, my mom had beaten me with the broom. That started to be her go-to punishment for me—hitting me with the broom. I remember I had just taken a shower; I wasn’t wearing a shirt and… she called me downstairs. I could tell by her tone that she was pissed at me and she just… she told me to turn around, put my hands on the counter, and she started hitting me,” Ronan says, his face contorting at the memory.

“Did you count the hits?”

“Yep. Thirty-five. It hurt so bad.” Ronan tips his head back before running his hands over his face, trying to shed the tension.

“Do you know what she was angry about?”

“She had found a condom in the trash,” Ronan says. “She thought it was mine.”

“Was it?”

He shakes his head no. “But that didn’t matter. She kept yelling at me, calling me all kinds of names I’d rather not repeat here.”

“And how did you come to tell Shane?”

“The next morning, we went to the gym—we work out together all the time—and Shane kind of punched me in the ribs, just as a ‘good job’ after I finished a set of bench presses. My ribs were really sore from the day before, and it hurt like a mother. He didn’t even punch me hard, but my knees buckled. I just wasn’t expecting it, didn’t have time to brace for it. I obviously freaked Shane out. He kept asking me what the hell was wrong. He wouldn’t leave me alone, followed me into the locker room and made me pull up my shirt. So, I did and he just… figured it out. I didn’t have to say anything.” Ronan chokes out.

“Did you specifically tell him that your mother hit you?”

“No, but he obviously came to the right conclusion,” Ronan says with a quick nod.

“Did you ever specifically tell Shane or anyone other than Miranda that your mother was hurting you?”

“One time last year I told Shane that I’d had a run-in with my mom. Same sort of M.O.—she had beaten me with the broom handle; my back was bruised. When I got to work, I told Shane.”

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