“Why do you care about him so much, Miss Ruiz?” he demanded. He just didn’t get it and it pissed him off, more than it should. “He was terrible to you. The things he did to you. Don’t tell me you wanted those things. I can’t believe you could have.”
Olivia was staring off into space again, but she spoke through her tears, “A lot of bad things happened to him too, Reed. His back was covered in whip marks and he told me he was very young when someone did that to him.” Matthew couldn’t hold back a scoff, and Olivia blinked and scowled at him. “I’m not stupid, Reed. I know the shit he did to me was awful, I fucking lived it. But I’m telling you, monsters aren’t born, they’re made, and someone made Caleb. Someone beat him, someone did horrible things to him, and the only person who helped him, Rafiq, made him into a killer. He didn’t have someone like you, or Sloan, or the goddamn FBI to help him. He had to survive all by himself and even though I can’t forgive him, I understand him.”
“Are you trying to tell me he’s the monster with a heart of gold?” he said, disbelieving, “Come on, Miss Ruiz. Really?”
Anger flashed on her face. “There isn’t a permanent mark on me, Reed, not one. And you don’t know how many times he was there to hold me together when I was sure I was going to fall apart. He’s a monster,” she sobbed, “I know he is. I know, and…it doesn’t matter to me anymore.”
Crying women left him bereft of action. They reminded him too much of his birth mother lying on the couch, shaking and begging him to find a way to score more drugs for her. He’d panic at times like that, knowing if Greg came home and found her, he’d beat her and then turn his rage on him. He’d only been seven, but he knew how to get lost for a while. He would grab his coat, kiss his mother, promise her he’d be back with her medicine and then he’d leave. There was an older lady, Mrs. Kavanaugh, who lived a few blocks away. When things got bad, he would stay at her house, eating cookies and watching game shows until his mom, or Greg, came looking for him.
His mother had been a weak woman, a drug addict that cared more about being loved by an abusive man than she did her own son. Matthew had tried for years to help his mother get clean, but in the end, she couldn’t stop using. One night, she was too high to defend herself, and Greg beat her to death. Matthew hadn’t been home, he’d been out with his friends, and when he’d arrived at home he’d found her: cold and still.
Matthew was thirteen and he went to live with Mrs. Kavanaugh’s daughter, Margaret, and her husband, Richard Reed. Greg committed suicide in lieu of going to jail for murder, and Matthew had never gotten over the injustice of it, despite the fact his life had improved drastically after that. Margaret and Richard were his real mother and father as far as he was concerned. He tried not to think of those other people.
“Horrible things happen to a lot of people, Miss Ruiz. Not everyone becomes a monster,” he said.
“No, but the world is full of people who do. It’s like those kids in Africa that get taught how to use machine guns and kill. Some of them can barely lift the guns, but they’re killers. What about them, Reed? Do you hold them responsible? Would you lock them away or put them down?” She wiped her eyes.
“That’s different, and you know it. The entire continent is rife with civil unrest and it’s people like Muhammad Rafiq, Felipe Villanueva, and yes, even Caleb, that get those kids hooked on cocaine and then teach them how to kill. I hold those people responsible.”
“What about the one’s that grow up? What about the one’s that survive long enough to become adults? Can you blame them for doing the only thing they know how?” She had to stop and breathe, her anger making her shake. He could see it on her face. She wanted to hit him. “Do you think that ten or twenty years from now, I’m going to feel normal or be normal or have a normal life, like you?”
Matthew let out an exasperated sigh, “I don’t know, Miss Ruiz. I don’t have those kinds of answers for you. It’s wrong, what happens to those kids, but it doesn’t give them free license as adults to rape and murder just because they’ve been doing it since they were young. Nor does it justify their actions because they had a fucked up childhood.”
“So…what? Fuck ‘em?” she challenged, her eyes wild. “Is that the best you can do?”
Matthew shrugged, “I don’t see the comparison, Miss Ruiz. Even if I did, are you telling me if one of those kids pointed a gun at you, if one of them raped you, you’d be willing to forgive them? Because I don’t think I have that much compassion. Anyone who points a weapon at me is going to get brought down. I don’t care if it’s a fucking Girl Scout.”
Olivia laughed without humor, “You’re fucking wrong, Reed. That’s exactly what Caleb would say.” She regarded him for a moment. “You are different from Sloan; she would never say anything like that.”