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It takes Ryan so long to respond that Shannon starts to think that maybe he didn't hear her, and by the time she's got up the nerve to start the whole awful spiel again he finally says something that makes her wish she'd never told him at all.
"We would have been shitty parents anyway."
He's never hit her, not once, but in that moment she would have rather been punched in the gut - the words are just as painful, leave her just as speechless.
The worst part is, he's probably right.
What would she have drawn on - her own mother, who left her to cry herself to sleep hungry and alone night after night while she shot up on the couch? What would he have drawn on - his own father, who beat him and his brother so regularly and severely they missed more days at school than they attended?
TV? Fairy tales? Their own instincts, some secret well of innate knowledge she should have unlocked when the pregnancy test came up positive?
Fat fucking chance.
"Yeah, probably," she hears herself agree, right as he flings his beer across the room, glass shattering everywhere, making her jump up from the couch.
"Fuck!"
"What the fuck, Ryan?"
"It's fucking bullshit!" His hands ball into fists, and Shannon feels the switch flip inside her skull, can almost hear the click of the lighter, see the sparks as the flint catches. If she wants to douse the flame, she needs to walk away now.
She doesn't.
"Yeah, you think I don't fucking know that?" She rounds the coffee table. "You think I'm not fucking angry too? You think you're the only one in this fucking house with a right to be fucking angry?"
He looks up at her, face blank. "I didn't say that."
"You don't have to fucking say it." The fire is blazing now - she can almost smell the smoke. "Everything you do fucking says it. You wanna smash shit? Who's gonna clean this shit up, huh? You?"
"I'll - "
"Well, clean this too, while you're at it!" She swipes another beer off the table and throws it at the same wall, making him jump up this time.
"Jesus fucking Christ, Shannon!"
"Clean this too!" Another bottle, then another, on and on until the whole six pack is in shards on the floor. "You fucking asshole!" She can feel his arms wrap around her, trying to restrain her, and she shoves him away. "Don't fucking touch me!"
"Stop!"
"Fuck you!"
"Shannon, fucking stop!" and suddenly the flames are gone and her legs give out and she's on the floor, they both are, and there's nothing left but the flood.
Shame. Sorrow. Shitty fucking parent.
He holds her tightly as she sobs into his shoulder.
No parent at all. Ever.