Chapter 480: It Broke Him
"Marcus was the very embodiment of joy when he was little," Billy began, his tone soft and distant, as though his words were being pulled from the depths of memory. "Always running around with that wide grin on his face. That boy... he had a smile that could melt stone. The kind of smile that could make you forget every trouble weighing on your chest."
A faint, nostalgic smile curved his lips as he looked over the shimmering water. "He was a wonderful kid. Curious. Talkative. And yes, a momma’s boy through and through—always glued to Maya’s side, following her around like a shadow that never wanted to fade."
Serah sat quietly, her eyes locked on him, her grip on the fishing rod forgotten. She didn’t dare interrupt—the way his voice softened with every word told her this was more than a story. It was a wound being reopened.
"But..." Billy’s smile faltered, his voice dipping low, carried by the whisper of the lake breeze. "That light he had—that warmth—it didn’t disappear all at once. It started dimming the day his little sister was born."
Serah blinked, her brows lifting slightly. "He... lost his warmth because he was jealous?" she asked gently, half guessing, half unsure.
Billy let out a quiet chuckle, not out of mockery, but of a sad amusement. "If only jealousy was the reason, Serah. If that were the case, he’d still be the boy he used to be." He exhaled slowly, eyes lowering. "No. My wife—Maya—she didn’t survive the birth. She died on the same day she gave life to our daughter."
Serah’s lips parted slightly, her heart sinking as she whispered, "Oh..."
"I thought I could handle it," Billy went on, his tone heavy but controlled. "But Marcus... he was only six, maybe seven. And for a child who worshipped his mother like the sun itself, her death shattered him completely. He stopped talking for weeks. Wouldn’t eat unless I begged him. And when he finally did speak again, it was like his voice had lost its color. He’d smile sometimes, but it was hollow—like the echo of something that once lived."
Serah’s expression softened, her eyes gleaming with sympathy. "I... I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—"
"There’s no need for that," Billy interrupted gently, waving one hand as though brushing away the apology. "You didn’t wound me. Time already did that."
She lowered her gaze to the still water. "I can’t imagine losing my mother," she murmured, her voice quiet. "But I understand... or at least, I can try to. You both lost someone who meant everything to you." She gave a small, sincere glance his way. "You lost your wife. He lost his mother. That pain doesn’t just fade."
Billy smiled faintly, nodding once. "Thank you, Serah. That means more than you know."
A soft silence filled the air. The gentle bobbing of the boat, the lazy circle of fish just beneath the surface—it was all that existed for a moment. Then, Serah’s curiosity slipped through again.
"Forgive me for asking, but..." she hesitated, "is that the reason Marcus acts the way he does? Why he seems so unfazed by death or killing?"
Billy looked at her, thoughtful, before leaning back slightly. "You ask a good question, girl. So stop apologizing for them."
That earned a small smile from Serah.
"But no," he continued. "Maya’s death wasn’t what made Marcus... like this. It broke him, yes, but what truly changed him was the death of his sister, Tara."
Serah froze. Her eyes widened, the rod forgotten in her hands.
Billy’s face grew somber again, shadows settling beneath his eyes. "After losing Maya, Tara became his light. That little girl saved him. She brought laughter back into his life, little by little. Even though she was frail—born weak because she never got the nourishment she needed from her mother—she never once let it bring her down. She was always smiling, always humming, even when fever wracked her body."
He smiled faintly, as though seeing the two of them again before him. "Marcus adored her. He would sit by her bed every night, telling stories, sneaking her sweets, singing to her when she couldn’t sleep. And she... she loved him just as fiercely. They were inseparable, those two. Watching them was like seeing the sun and moon share the same sky."
Serah’s heart tightened.
Billy’s voice lowered. "Then came the day that took everything."
The air grew still. Not even the water dared move.
"Marcus had just turned ten. Tara was six. I had to travel to the capital on some business—just a few days, nothing more. I’d left them home many times before, and our little town was the safest in the zone. Everyone knew everyone. Nothing bad ever happened there. So I thought..." He paused, his voice catching faintly, "I thought they’d be fine."
He looked down, hands tightening around the wooden edge of the boat. "But fate—no, the gods—had other plans. While I was in the capital, a band of mercenaries raided the town. Slavers, killers, looking for easy coin. By the time the message reached me, I ran as though death itself was chasing me home. But when I arrived..."
He went silent. The air around them felt heavier, colder.
"When I arrived," he said finally, his tone breaking into a raw whisper, "there was nothing left but blood. The streets were painted red. Corpses... everywhere. I could barely recognize the town. And at the very center of it all was Marcus."
Serah’s fingers trembled.
"He was standing there," Billy continued, his eyes distant as though he could still see it. "Covered head to toe in blood that wasn’t his. Holding... a heart. Still beating. I don’t even know if he realized what he was doing anymore. Around him were the bodies of the mercenaries—no, not bodies. Pieces of them. Torn apart. Shredded. He had killed them all."
Serah’s lips parted, her breath caught in her throat.
"And just a few feet from him," Billy said, his voice hollow, "lay Tara. My little girl. Gone. Her neck had been snapped. And the look on Marcus’s face when he saw me... gods, I’ll never forget it. He didn’t cry. Didn’t speak. He just looked at me with those eyes—empty, wild, broken—and I knew that the boy I once called my son had died that day too."
He exhaled slowly, the pain in his voice like a wound reopened after years of silence. "Since then, he’s never been the same. That smile you see now? It’s borrowed. It’s the one he wore for his sister. Every laugh, every joke—it’s his way of keeping her memory alive."
Serah sat there, completely still, her heart aching so fiercely she thought it might break. The lake around them reflected nothing but gray.
And as the silence fell once more, Billy’s gaze met hers. "Now you see, princess," he said quietly, "why my son walks between laughter and ruin. He doesn’t fear death... because he already met it and watched it take everything he loved."