Chapters (79)
- Cover
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Fifty-Two
- Fifty-Three
- Fifty-Four
- Fifty-Five
- Fifty-Six
- Fifty-Seven
- Fifty-Eight
- Fifty-Nine
- Sixty
- Sixty-One
- Sixty-Two
- Sixty-Three
- Sixty-Four
- Sixty-Five
- Sixty-Six
- Sixty-Seven
- Sixty-Eight
- Sixty-Nine
- Seventy
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
- Praise for Destroy All Monsters
- Books by Sam J. Miller
- Back Ad
- About the Publisher
His walls fell down. His armor melted away. All the metaphors failed him. Confidence, arrogance, toxic masculinity—none of it could shield him from the pain of having his son understand exactly what a monster he was.
Connor didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. His eyes did all the talking, and what smoldered there was raw hate. Contempt. Revulsion. Mr. Barrett took a step back, as if physically feeling the force of his son’s disgust.
Connor saw him for what he really was—and for the first time, so did Mr. Barrett. The mirror his son held up to him, the pure power of his loathing, showed Mr. Barrett the monster he’d spent so long pretending he wasn’t. I could see it hit home. Saw his eyes fill up with tears.
“Who else?” Connor asked.
Mr. Barrett didn’t budge, or speak. So much passed between their eyes in that instant. How the balance of power between father and son had been forever shifted. How Mr. Barrett’s monstrous actions had cost him the most important thing in his life.
“Who else did you hurt like that?” Connor was shouting now.
“Sheffield?” I asked. “What you did to Solomon, did you do it to him too?”
Mr. Barrett stammered, “Connor, I—I—” But he was all out of words.
“You’re a fucking monster,” Connor said. He shouldered his duffel bag, and headed for the steps.
“Ash,” Mr. Barrett said, his mouth slack, his face shattered.
It was what I’d prayed for. The unbreakable monster, broken. But whatever pride or victory or happiness I had hoped to feel was dwarfed by Connor’s pain.
I followed him down the stairs, and out into the cool dark.
“Are you okay?” I asked, once we were a block away.
“Ash, I will never be okay.” Connor waved to where Solomon sat on the hood of my car. “Let’s go talk to Sheffield. See if we can stop some arson.”
Sixty-Six
Solomon
Standing before the movie screen, the Shield continued to work the crowd. “Why do you think Queen Carmen refuses to help us?”
Shouts; inarticulate rage.
“Why does she sit back and hide, while othersiders abuse and exploit us? While they destroy our society, and harm our loved ones? Why does she refuse to stop them?”
People shouted back answers. Most of them were ugly.
“That is the truth I have come to reveal,” he said.
Cheers. Pleas.
“I know you’re here, Ash,” the Shield said.
Ash and I exchanged glances, mask to mask. Frightened eye to frightened eye.
“You can’t,” I told her.
“I have to,” she said.
I turned back to the stage. Watched the crowd. They were so worked up, so angry—they’d have torn us to shreds at the slightest word from the Shield.
“Come out, Princess. For too long, you have hidden your face from your people.”