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Molly gripped the wand closer to her chest. A cacophony of thoughts ensnaring her mind as she fell to her knees, sobbing, her heart shattering over and over and over again.
Her son. Her youngest son. Her baby boy.
Butchered by the vile and depraved witch of Bellatrix Lestrange. Right before the eyes of two of his brothers. There was nothing left of her son, other than a crater and Ron’s fir wood wand.
No formation of words could describe the pain she felt. No amount of tears could show just how bad it hurt. And no amount of blood she could take, could possibly be enough to sate Molly’s heart.
Her baby boy, her Ron, was gone.
And there was nothing she could do about it.
Her son was gone, and she could only blame herself.
Molly could only sit there, wailing. Gripping the wooden prize close to her chest as she bared her soul out to the world, mourning the death of her Ronnie. Her thoughts traveling, replaying all of the moments she shared with her son—more importantly, the moments she would regret the most concerning her baby boy.
She didn’t register Fred’s sobs or the way he was gasping out his apologies for not saving his youngest brother.
She paid no mind to the way Percy was shaking almost uncontrollably due to the strength of his crying.
She couldn’t even notice the way Arthur seemed to collapse in on himself. His own pain and culpability eating away at him like a parasite.
Molly was too consumed to watch how one by one—and with the arrival of Bill, Fleur and Charlie—her family caved in on themselves at the news of her sixth son’s demise.
She was just too busy feeling guilty.
Guilt consumed her as she thought of all the ways she failed as a mother.
How many times did she force him away?
Why wasn’t she there to save him from that wretched monster?
What was so wrong with her as a mother that she couldn’t help her own child in their greatest hour of need?
There was a time when Ron was only seven. He seemed so happy one morning. But now, all Molly could see in that memory of how she had dismissed him so easily.
“Mummy, wanna play with me?” A seven year old Ron asked, holding his chessboard—courtesy of Arthur’s father, Septimus Weasley.
Molly didn’t even spare him a second glance before returning her eyes to Ginny. The two witches sat on the dining table, the younger learning to play gobstones.
“Sorry Ronnie, but I already promised Ginny I would play with her.” Molly said, laughing out with Ginny as her daughter finally managed to knock the gobstone from the center.
“Could I play with Ginny and you too?” Ron asked lightly, still holding that beautiful smile of his.
“Sorry sweetie, go find your brothers maybe.”
And he was off, and out of Molly’s hair.
Why did she do that? How could she dismiss her baby boy as if he was nothing more than a nuisance?! How could she do that to him!
There was that time she had found out about Ron’s sorting via the twins. And in her shock, she was speechless.
Even after receiving two pleading letters from her baby boy himself. She still was quiet. Molly was too far in her own head to realize that two months had passed before she ever sent a response.
Dear Ronald,
I hope all is well and that you are safe throughout your time in school. I apologize for the late response, but I needed some time to recuperate from the news of your sorting. Slytherin. My son, alone in the house of snakes. I will not lie to you and say that I am proud of your sorting. I am not. I am afraid. I am frustrated. I am lost. Are you well there? Are you being bullied? Why did the sorting hat believe you belonged there? What morals did the hat say you have? Did I fail you as a mother? Did me and your father falter in our love for you? I just don’t understand how this is possible, Ronald. Please know that me and your father do still love you with all our hearts, but understand that we are going to talk about this in depth the next time we meet.
Your mother, Molly Weasley
It only took her four years to see the fruition of this labor, in how Ron easily found comfort in Gianna Greengrass’ arms. Molly at the time didn’t know what it could have been at the time.
Why was her son so close to his friend’s mother? Why did this other woman dare to call Ron one of her own? Ronnie is her’s… not this stranger’s!
Yet now, Molly knew she was wrong once again. She had thought initially that Ron sought out the materialistic gains Gianna Greengrass could provide that Molly never could. But no… Ron isn’t materialistic. He never has… never was like that. He instead found a mother’s attention, something that he had craved… needed all his life. The attention Molly never gave him.
And then there was when he had formally introduced Daphne—the girl who had stolen his heart—to the rest of the family. Ginny, the twins and Percy had already held their own opinions on the girl who had captured her baby boy’s heart. And though Percy regarded the girl as fierce and loyal, the twins and Ginny had other views.
“She’s as much of a snake as any other mum!”
“She’s so rude to us every time we try to talk to Ron and she’s there.”
“He doesn’t even stop her either! She’s truly mental mum.”
It was comments like this that set the foundation of how Molly viewed the Greengrass girl. Her mind at the time could only center around exactly how this… this… enchantress bewitched her son. Her kind and sweet baby boy. How could he have latched himself to someone apparently so demeaning?
“Thank you so much for supper Mrs. Weasley, it seems Ron was correct in his assessment of you being a goddess in the kitchen.” Daphne announced kindly, honest brown orbs following Molly’s own hazel eyes.
Molly could barely manage a genuine smile to grace her face. Her mind swarmed with less than kind thoughts every time she saw the Greengrass girl graze or touch Ron’s hand or shoulder, or when Ron would whisper in her ear before cracking an adorable grin as she laughed, or every time she saw Fred roll his eyes, George grimace or Ginny glare any time the young couple conversed. It was a true wonder dinner hadn’t been disturbed by her children’s typical quarreling.
“Thank you Daphne, Ron was indeed correct on that part.” Arthur’s cool voice sounded out, cutting off any potential witty comments the twins had prepared. Thank the gods above for Arthur.
“Yeah mum, thanks for dinner! It’s always amazing every time you’re in the kitchen!”
Ron’s cheery voice brought a true smile to the matriarch’s face as she prepared to fret over her sweet baby boy, only to have Ginny, sitting beside Ron, retort first.
“Of course it’s amazing, why wouldn’t it be?”
The ice and malice in the short quip could be felt leagues away, and all it brought about was Ron losing his smile and glancing at his little sister in annoyance.
“What are you on about?” Ginny sneered at Ron’s words. And Molly could only sigh in exhaustion, clearly seeing where exactly this was going.
And apparently, so did the twins.
“Why nothing ickle ronniekins”
“Nothing at all”
“Just a genuine question that’s all”
“From our lovely little sister”
“Nothing too bad, am I right Georgie?”
“Right, you are Freddie.”
Ron could only glare across the tables at the duo, the twins sporting smirks, as Ginny maintained a side-eyed glare towards Daphne and Ron.
Again, Molly gathered her thoughts, with every intention of cutting off any argument to come, and once again, she was just a second too late.
“Must you always antagonize your brother?”
Silence reigned supreme amongst those at the dinner table for a good minute. Everyone, digesting Daphne’s blunt words as both teenage witches stared in a severe contest of wills.
Molly was speechless and yet her mind ran rampant. How did it come to this? It was supposed to be a sweet dinner for this Yule break. Was this the side of Daphne that Ginny and twins were talking about? She had hoped it wouldn’t be true?
“Uh… I think that this has been a long night… best to-“ Arthur began before being interrupted by his enraged daughter.
“What’s your problem Greengrass!? Can’t go a single day without reminding everyone of your self-righteousness!”
Daphne’s severe look broke into one of confused shock, clearly bewildered in comparison to both Ginny’s glare and words, “What are you talking-“
“You think you’re better than us! Always flaunting your better manners and your daddy’s money, it’s all your fault Ron’s become a bloody prat!”
Molly gasped, barely muttering out “language” at her daughter's crude words before Ron turned on to his sister.
“Cut it out Ginny! You’ve been nothing but a crazy bint ever since you met Daph-“
Molly didn’t hesitate to defend her only girl.
“Ronald, stop yelling at your sister! Must you be so crass?!”
And somehow, someway, that line alone set the fire off in her youngest son’s eyes and heart. Looking back, Molly couldn’t really remember how exactly the argument traveled from the dining table, to the living room. But after constant screams of unnecessary wrath, Ron and Molly stood face to face, voices roaring, spitting venom towards one another.
At the time, Molly’s internal fire only seemed to be fueled at the thought of her son being nothing but disrespectful. Yelling at his sister, and later the twins that night. Shrugging off Arthur’s comforting and peacemaking attempts, ignoring Molly’s own shouts in favor of escorting Daphne out for the floo, that was the last straw for the elder witch.
“RONALD BILIUS WEASLEY! You stop ignoring me this instant!!”
“Or what?!”
“How DARE you?!”
Mother and son both held faces as red as their hair, eyes burning, hearts roaring with wrath.
“WHY ARE YOU BEING SO DISRESPECTFUL! YOU WANTED THIS DINNER AND YET YOU GO AROUND SCREAMING AT YOUR SIBLINGS AND YOUR OWN PARENTS!”
“I WASN’T THE ONE THROWING RUDE REMARKS ABOUT MY GUEST AT EVERY CHANCE POSSIBLE!”
“AND THAT SOMEHOW EXCUSES YOUR HORRID BEHAVIOR RIGHT NOW!?”
“AS IF I’M BEING MORE HORRIBLE THAN THEY WERE NOT EVEN TWENTY MINUTES AGO!”
Molly took a breath, fighting to maintain the growing eruption that she knew was brewing beneath her already infuriated stance. The infamous Prewett temper exuded itself in totality from both mother and son.
Molly took another breath. Her voice restraining the lashing it had initially intended to unleash.
“Ronald… I will not tolerate anymore of this behavior. Please escort Daphne back to the fireplace and then go straight to your room”
Ron didn’t even have the chance to intrude on his mother’s fierce command.
“Me and your father will speak to your siblings and then we will be upstairs to talk to you”
She ignored the way his narrowed eyes seemed to challenge her own, almost daring her to strike, to give him casus belli. As unnerving as it was, Molly persisted.
“A conversation concerning your behavior is long overdue Ronald. As long as you remain under this roof, you will retain the respect your father and I taught you to carry yourself with. I am your mother Ronald, and you will do as I say.”
Molly could feel the brief sigh of relief come from Arthur as the smallest of smiles graced his lips, probably glad that Molly had diffused the situation all on her own. The couple however seemed to completely forget about their youngest son—who seemed ready to burst in pure fury. The older witch didn’t think her son could possibly say anything that would conflict with her own final demands.
And yet he did.
And the verbal flogging, the seven words that seemed to spill from her baby boy’s mouth was the final straw. Seven words that broke any restraint Molly had retained only seconds ago.
“Some mother you are, aren’t you mum?”
Time froze for the smallest fraction, and Molly didn’t even register how far and how fast her rage had carried her, but after blinking she had realized that the back of her hand stung viciously. And stumbling back before her was her youngest son.
Grasping at his cheek, eyes stinging with tears, Molly’s breath hitched. She struck him. She hit her own child.
Molly didn’t have time to apologize. She didn’t register the way Ginny and Daphne had shrieked, or the way the twins stood frozen and silent or how Arthur had screamed in shock. She didn’t even have the chance to even move out of the culpable stupor she was in before Ron moved away. Roughly scraping away tears, and the traces of blood from the tiny scratch that now marred his cheek, Ron tugged Daphne away before heading to the floo.
Her mouth ran as fast as her feet after her son. Apologies spilling, Arthur in a similar state, with frustrated pleas for peace coming from his lips.
But her fierce, strong, proud and hurt baby boy left, gone in a flash of green fire along with Daphne. Away from her. From his own mother, who hurt him.
And the worst of it was seen on that disastrous night. That horrible night.
It was supposed to be a peaceful summer hols, Molly and Ron and had made up from their fight back in December. The twins had already left the Burrow to start their shop in London, Ron was entering his sixth year and Ginny her fifth. The only worry on her mind was whether or not Percy was alright, but she had faith in her boy’s strength and tenacity.
Though she would be lying if she still didn’t worry about him every single hour of every passing day. The war had begun in earnest not long after Ginny, Harry and their friends exposed Voldemort to the world. And now she could only hope they would leave her family untouched just a little longer.
But the expected calm shattered when Ginny screamed. Fear held Molly hostage as she bolted into action, racing down the stairs of her home, hoping to any and all higher beings that no monsters had come to her home, for her family.
Imagine her utter disbelief when she had discovered that the monster wasn’t some bigoted pure-blood looking to kill some blood traitors. But rather her own son, who’s eyes were shining with tears, trying to hide the wretched black marks gracing his left forearms. Molly kept herself frozen in utter shock, incredulity, rage and despair.
Ronald had the mark. The dark mark.
The proof laid bare for Ginny, Arthur and Molly, as they stood across from the sixth Weasley boy. Ron was shaking, shivering in fear, silent tears spilling out from his eyes as they graced the floor rather than his own family. And whilst Molly once again was left speechless, her daughter and husband were not.
Ginny raged with both fury and hurt. Hundreds of ‘How could you?’ And words like ‘traitor’ or ‘snake’ spilling out from her mouth. Molly’s eyes moistened as she watched her daughter scream at her ever so silent brother. And the elder witch couldn’t help but silently agree.
How could her own flesh and blood do this? Did she not raise him right? Did he really have no care for others? Was he truly a monster all this time? So many had died fighting to protect the chance for a world of peace and equity, her own brothers Fabian and Gideon, everything they fought for… how could her own child spit on this dream? She didn’t raise her children to be this way. If that was true, then was this boy standing before her… was he truly her son?
After stewing in her thoughts for a moment or two longer, Molly returned to the present as she watched the scene before her. Arthur held a crying Ginny and his face. Oh Merlin…
The look of the purest ire and wrath found itself plastered upon her husband’s face. It was a face she had only seen once in her long life with him. The night she tried to avenge her brothers’ deaths. Arthur raged, shouted and tore Molly a whole new perspective. It was the most terrifying display of his love that Molly had seen come from her husband. She remembers that night, Arthur demanding to know why she thought abandoning their children for revenge was worth it. She had never been so ashamed of herself in her entire life.
But seeing that look again, Arthur, her doting, caring, loving husband… looking upon one of their children that way reawakened the defensive motherly instincts within Molly.
Molly raced, standing between Ron and Arthur, her husband scowling through her as Ron whimpered and hid behind her. Her heart started to crack under the pressure, the waves of conflicted and painful emotions began to drown Molly completely.
Arthur will not break Ron with his words, her baby boy wouldn’t survive such a tongue lashing, especially not in this state! But my son… my youngest son… a death eater… There are no words to describe my utter contempt. Why did he do this? WHY?!
“How could you do this Ron?” The eeriness in Arthur’s smooth tone only seemed to smother the other three Weasleys with pure fear.
Molly maintained her defiant eyes as Arthur ignored her, focusing his hard and frozen eyes on the boy behind her. Even Ginny who now stood behind Arthur was quite in her despair, now eyeing her father with the tiniest looks of terror.
Ron could only whimper and sniffle in response, clearly too shaken to even formulate a response.
“ANSWER ME BOY!”
Her son sobbed harder, trying to shrink his lanky build behind her further. Molly didn’t want this. This summer was supposed to be good. Peaceful. A respite from the terrors from the war that was already consuming their community. And yet, the war has already struck her family. And it has stolen another son from her.
“Arthur please-“
“NO MOLLY!”
Molly could barely stop herself from jumping in shock at her husband’s tone.
“Arthur stop!”
“HOW COULD YOU DO THIS RON?! WHY-“
“I had to dad! I had to!” Ron mewled out painfully, still withering under his father’s eyes.
Molly turned to her boy. Gripping him by the shoulders, it was second nature for Molly to comfort her children when they were in pain. And despite her lingering disgust at the odious black mark on her son, Molly still held him close. Enveloping Ron into her bosom, leaving no room for her baby boy’s tears to escape.
In that moment, the way her son shivered, the way he let his tears fall free with no care, the way he gripped unto Molly the same way when he was naught but a toddler, the way he inhaled her soothing essence, and exhaled a sigh of genuine peace and content… Molly knew her son was truly her son.
Her son was no monster. Her Ronald was no death eater. Her Ronnie was her baby boy. And she despises that small fraction of time that she doubted such a thing.
“Get out.”
Three pairs of eyes found its way to the fuming form of the Weasley patriarch. Molly turned to her husband, her own eyes beginning to match that of her two youngest babies. No Arthur! Please! He’s our son!
“D-Dad-“
“GET OUT!”
Arthur’s shout cut off the meek voice of his son.
Molly could only grip her son to her own person closer. Refusing to let him leave. Refusing to let her son fly away from her arms again. And despite the menacing glare her husband shined down upon both mother and son, Molly stood strong, defiant, with all of her will standing against that of the man she loves.
“Arthur. No.”
Molly barely breathed those words out before Arthur stomped forward. Ginny squeak her own terror out, silently crying, falling back against the nearest wall, slowly gliding down to the floor as she watched the scene before her.
Molly hadn’t the time to register what was happening before Arthur began again.
“You bring that disease into this house. You dare to spit on everything your mother and I raised you to believe in”
Arthur ripped Ron out of her arms, ignoring the cries and pleas of his own wife and son as he gripped Ron by the collar of his shirt.
Molly gasped, throwing herself into the fray. “ARTHUR STOP IT!”
Despite her best efforts, Molly couldn’t get around the gangly form of her husband who all but hauled Ron towards the door.
“Your mother and I tried our damn hardest Ronald! Praying! Hoping! That maybe you would still be our son by the time you finished school! BUT FOOLS WE WERE”
Ron began to pull against his father’s arms, pulling free for the faintest second, barely grasping Molly before Arthur grasped him again. Throwing him at the door. And then it happened.
“D-Dad…. Please!”
Molly froze as she heard the sorrowful plea come from her baby boy. There she stood, watching her son, back laid against the door. Arthur between her and Ron, staring down like a beast, with fire, ice, storms and pure wrath and ferocity lingering in his eyes. Face red and fists clenched. Molly had never felt dread and fear like this. Arthur wouldn’t harm his kids in anger. Never. Right?
“Please… let me explain da… please.”
Tears falling down both wizards' faces, Arthur shook his head at Ron’s begging.
“No son of mine would have ever done what you’ve done Ron. You shame the Weasley name. You shame your mother and her family. You need to leave.”
Molly shook as the tears flooded her face. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t have another son away from her. Percy was all alone. That alone was too much to handle. She wouldn’t let her last boy be forced away! He’s not even of age! He’s still a child! Her child!
“Dad…. Please…” Ron sobbed out once more. But it was all for naught because Arthur was too far gone in his anger to care.
“You are no son of mine… You are no Weasley any longer. Get out. And don’t ever return.”
The silence that followed Arthur’s declaration was deafening. Molly was numb. Stunned into near paralysis as her husband’s words sunk in. And in the silence, all four Weasleys’ hearts broke at the patriarch’s command.
The hurt that presented itself in totality on Ron’s face was too much for Molly to handle. His eyes wide, smothered by tears, body shivering, hands pressed close to his chest, as if praying for his father’s words to be a figment of his imagination. Molly’s heart felt like it was getting stomped on, and still she was unprepared for the pain that came from what happened next.
“Please Da—”
Arthur cut Ron off, ripping his wand out from his pocket and pointed it at the face of her baby boy. Molly screamed in fear at the act, charging forward.
“GET OUT!”
For Ron, the sight of his father—the man who he had looked up to all his life, the man who’s love, pride and respect were once Ron’s greatest desire—raising his wand, screaming, with a look almost akin to hate, strangled Ron’s soul with fear. Never in his entire life had the young wizard felt so afraid in his life. The fear that gripped his very being was unparalleled in encapsulating Ron… slithering around his soul like a basilisk, gripping him, strangling him, leaving him a mangled mess. Ron was terrified of his father. And the realization was too heavy a burden to carry.
Ron did the only thing he could do. He fled. Flinging the door open, Molly watched as Ron sprinted for the hills, sobs echoing, tears spilling from his cheeks and snot locking his airways as he ran.
The elder witch initially gave chase, but the sudden grip on her arm brought her to a halt. Arthur, for all the love that she knew he had in his heart, not a single drop of this love made itself present on his face. Despite the tears clashing against his wrathful look, Molly stared into her husband’s soul. She gritted her teeth, almost daring for Arthur to stop her any longer from pursuing her son.
“Molly… don’t. He’s… he’s no so—“
She didn’t even spare him the courtesy of finishing his weak revelation. Cutting off his somber and hurtful words with her own, laced with fury.
“If you even dare to say he’s not my son, Arthur… I swear by all of those above and below…. Let go of my arm RIGHT NOW ARTHUR WEASLEY!”
Arthur’s grip went limp as he remained stock still, aggressive yet aggrieved in his current state. Almost in disbelief at the show of love and loyalty Molly had. And for someone who had spit on everything the old couple had believed in. He couldn’t understand it, yet Molly didn’t care. Her mind focused only on her baby boy.
“Why Molly? Why do you wound us further… what comes from wanting him here?!”
Arthur’s words almost seemed like a slap in the face to Molly. She erupted at her husband’s ignorance… his cruelty… his lack of sight. But most of all, for his refusal to love their son, flaws and all. It hurt her so much to see that this is what it boiled down to—she always knew Ron’s relationship with both Arthur and herself was strained. But love was still there. On both ends of the street. Yet, somehow, Arthur’s love wasn’t there, not for Ron. And it infuriated her to no end.
In that split second, at hearing the way Arthur could be so blinded in his wrath, that he could not even feel the love she knew he had, she felt herself fall back to barely a year prior… to the way Arthur and Percy had fought. In the aftermath, she saw her third boy feel unloved, unwanted, unneeded and divided from his family. How could this current situation be any different? She couldn’t let Ron leave, not now, not ever! She couldn’t lose another one of her babies.
“I WILL NOT LOSE ANOTHER SON ARTHUR!”
Molly pushed past a silent and still Arthur, rushing for her son who bolted out the door only moments ago.
“Ronnie!”
In the distance, she could make out only a tall shadow, racing up the hill, away from the Burrow. The faint silver gleam of the moon granting her a look of the back of her son’s form.
“RON WAIT!”
Molly charged forward, holding her long skirt up as she raced to meet her son. Hoping to any and all that she could stop Ron from passing the wards of their home.
“RON PLEASE!!” THUD
Molly fell forward after she cried out again for her son. Her body giving out as a rock caught her foot. Landing on her hands and knees—which she was sure held bruises and scrapes, littered with mud—she kept her eyes forward, facing the retreating teen.
Molly’s heart skipped a beat as she watched on. Ron had paused, an aggrieved look scanning the scene behind him. Molly could feel his heart break as she saw him witness her injured self recuperate. Standing up and dusting herself off, she could feel the world recompose itself as she gestured that she was alright.
“M-Mum… you’re hur–“
“I’m okay Ron.” Molly called out to the shivering boy some fifteen meters ahead of her.
“Mummy… I’m sorr—“
“I’m okay son. We’re gonna be okay Ron.”
Molly held back her own sobs as she watched her baby boy be consumed by his own tears. It was like he was toddler all over again. Crying for her love, her affection.
One step. Two steps. And another. Molly inched closer and closer to her youngest boy, who stood like a statue, frozen in time, with only shivers and tears as signs to his humanity. She was so close, so close to reaching her son, who stood only a few steps away from the last of the wards surrounding the Burrow. Only a few more bated breaths and a few more soft steps forward and her son would be back in her arms.
Yet, it wasn’t meant to be as she heard the door to her home slam open once more, releasing Arthur and Ginny from its threshold. Molly didn’t need to look behind her to know what had captured Ron’s attention in totality. Arthur, who was still gripping his wand. Molly almost cried out in frustration as she saw the wheels churn in her son’s eyes, his beautiful sky blue orbs, filling themselves with dread, terror, fear.
She only caught his eyes for the smallest second. She could feel the echoing of his silent apologies flow through the air between them. And Molly could only cry further as she failed once more. Running for him once more, the elder witch was too late to take hold of her son as he apparated away after passing the last ward.
And as he was whisked away to a place unknown, Molly finally broke. Collapsing to the floor with her sorrow, she cried as she did herself in.
Why did she stop? She could have easily moved faster! Why didn’t she spare him from Arthur’s wrath? Why did she fail her son again?! What will happen to Ron? What if they hurt him? Did they give him the mark to keep him a prisoner?! How long have they been hurting my baby?! He’s not even of age! They’re gonna kill my baby boy!!!!
She failed again as a mother. And this time, it just might be the one that could cost her her son for good.
It was this truth that broke Molly.
She failed as a mother. She failed her baby boy. She failed her son, her Ronnie.
And the proof was right there. Held close to her chest, a survivor's wand who had lost its long and rigorous battle. Forced to survive a world without the support of his family. Without the support of his mother.
She didn’t even have her son’s remains to hold and caress one last time. No physical manifestation for her to beg… beg to come home to her. No corpse to apologize over. No ashes to cry and scream over. There was nothing left.
Only that gods be damned crater and his wand.
This truth screamed at her as she heard her sobs joined by that of her traumatized sons Percy and Fred. She could hear it in the whimpers of George and Arthur as they held each other, in the comforting words that Fleur tried to say to a wailing Ginny. Even in the ragged breathing of Bill who held a broken Charlie close to his chest.
Her family was shattered. And it was all her fault.
She did it. She lost her baby boy. Her little Ronnie… her son was dead.
Molly could only scream louder as that truth nestled into her soul.