One Last Rainy Day: The Legacy of a Prince

“What’s whirring around in my psyche is equivalent to the magnitude of ten atom bombs, and I can’t utter a fucking word.”

Dom uses hyperbole to compare the enormity of the secret he’s keeping to 10 of the most destructive weapons humans have. This comparison suggests just how volatile and violent the knowledge is, the power it has to destroy, emphasizing the psychic toll of Dom’s choice to wrestle with it alone.

“Inside the house in front of me resides a monster who stole my childhood by plotting my parents’ deaths for seeing him beneath his carefully placed veil. Who covered up their murders and brushed their children away like debris with a payoff.”

When Dom takes Cecelia to her father’s house, his thoughts about Roman reveal how angry and resentful Dom still is. That his feelings have been simmering inside him for all this time, affecting his view of the world and himself, displays The Corrosive Power of Vengeance. He can’t move on when he is so focused on revenge. It also demonstrates The Moral Ambiguity of Vigilante Justice as Dom wants to rid the world of a “monster”; while he views this intention as a justification for violence, the moral authority he grants himself is more than he can psychologically sustain.

“Tyler bids her a saccharine-filled goodnight. Even he’s not immune to her. The ink loses again. And fuck both Sean and Tyler for it. The ink exists because of her father.”

Dom uses a metaphor to compare Tyler’s kindness toward Cecelia to an artificial sweetener, implying a similar artificiality in Tyler’s demonstrative emotion. He also compares Cecelia to something like a disease, something Tyler and Sean aren’t “immune” to, meaning that they cannot resist her charm and beauty. Finally, Dom says that the original reason for their club’s existence is Roman; Dom and Roman have been “chasing” this man for their entire adult lives, trying to avenge their parents’ deaths.

“Years ago, when I agreed to let him take part in our secrets, I had one reservation. Being privileged, Fatty never had enough skin in the game.”

Dom is suspicious of anyone born with privilege. He feels that Fatty always had the potential to be a problem for the club, despite his inclusion in it, because he doesn’t feel the bone-deep responsibility to even the score between the haves and the have nots. He’s always had money, and he has been insulated from the rest of the world’s problems because of it. This entitlement makes him unreliable and careless.

“Homeland Security is a myth. We aren’t protected, we’re wired, and our behaviors are observed and collected as data to help orchestrate the strategy on how best to manipulate the masses.”

Dom does not believe that the American Dream is a reality. In his view, the cards are stacked against anyone who tries to climb the socioeconomic ladder, in part, because those who have power are so invested in maintaining it. To do so, they actually surveil everyone else—not to protect us, as we believe—but to figure out how to keep their control. This demonstrates, for him, The Fantasy of the American Dream.

“With Cecelia, I don’t like who I am or the effect she has on me when we’re around each other. She’s a rare type of flame far too close to my fuse—which is shortening by the day.”

Cecelia makes Dom feel a little dangerous, as though he doesn’t have complete control over himself. She is so guileless and candid that she inspires the same qualities within him, but he is determined not to reveal his hand—because of all the horrifying information it includes—to anyone. He uses a metaphor to compare her to the flame that could ignite his fuse, blowing him wide open and releasing everything he tries to keep secret.

“What the cops didn’t know or care to recognize is that an empty stomach is a major fucking motivator. Peter had turned to thieving to keep the electricity on in the sad excuse of a trailer he resided in […]. His short stint in burglary was an attempt to feed his infant sister after his abusive dad bailed.”

Dom shares a little about Peter’s story to demonstrate the fantasy of the American Dream. Peter tried to do everything right, but his abusive father and absent mother meant that he felt compelled to turn to theft to maintain his home and keep his sister alive. Then, rather than help his family, law enforcement tossed him in jail for a night to try and scare him straight. He didn’t need fear, though, he needed a means to acquire money to pay for food and electricity. This system is one of the major problems Dom has with America.

“Sean’s always believed intuition is his greatest gift, and I don’t correct him, because, in that respect, he’s impeccable at deciphering the good eggs from bad. He can read people easily, anticipate their needs and manipulate them for our benefit if necessary. The truth is, he’s an empath to his core. His kryptonite is that he feels every part of what just happened [with Clint]…while I can remain objective and detached.”

Dom gives credit where it’s due, and this line characterizes both Sean and Dom. He highlights Sean’s empathy and his ability to read people quickly, using an allusion to Superman to describe Sean’s soft heart as his “kryptonite,” or his weakness. Dom also characterizes himself as “objective and detached” when he’s already begun to question his ability to remain so around Cecelia. This sounds more like wish fulfillment than reality.

“His tiny chest bounces with his hiccups due to the strength of his cries. My resolve only strengthens as I rip my eyes away from him while I try to rid him of the monster that sleeps too close to his crib.”

Dom is deeply affected by the sight of Ginger’s infant nephew when he arrives to throw out Marie’s violent and boyfriend, who uses illegal substances around the baby. Dom’s emotional response belies his true nature. He is not objective and detached; in fact, he cares very deeply about justice and protecting the innocent.

“Zach nods, eyes soaked in fear as I pull out a wad of bills and place them in his shaking palm, rage seeping into me at the fear that’s been instilled in him […] ‘This is not your fault. It’s his fucking failure.’ […] I stare into the eyes of a terrified boy who’s been living impoverished and seemingly punished for merely existing in a drunk’s selfish world—no doubt feeling like an unwanted burden, an obligation.”

Dom is especially sympathetic with children who are wronged by corrupt adults, as he feels he and Tobias were when Roman robbed them of their parents (or so they think) and left them to grow up in poverty with an abusive aunt. His generosity toward Zach, and the lengths to which Dom goes to protect and provide for him, belie Dom’s true character. He is not the “detached” and “objective” person he imagines himself to be; he simply has no qualms about punishing those who harm others. This highlights the moral ambiguity of vigilante justice.

“For the first time since the nightmare I’d existed in for weeks began, I felt like I’d surfaced from being underwater and took a much-needed break. A breath of realization that I am a living, breathing man.”

Dom’s description of his feelings after sleeping with Cecelia shows both the corrosive power of vengeance and The Healing Nature of Emotional Vulnerability. The relief he feels now highlights just how much he felt like he was drowning before, which he refers to via simile. He felt as though he wasn’t alive and couldn’t breathe before. However, allowing himself even a small measure of emotional vulnerability has made him feel like he can breathe again.

“It’s by choice that she embraces the lighter side of living, whereas I welcome the dark, dwelling amongst the shadows and manipulating them to suit.”

Dom thinks of himself as someone who is “dark” and manipulative rather than joyful and candid. However, he is only this way when dealing with evil people, and it’s only so he can protect and provide for innocent people. When he deals with those innocents, like Ginger and her nephew or Zach, he is not dark at all. His words, however, emphasize the moral ambiguity of vigilante justice, as even Dom cannot fully absolve himself of wrongdoing even when his intentions (and results) are positive for those who deserve good.

“The words are starting to come a lot easier, and worse, starting to flow out of me unchecked.”

Dom’s developing openness with Cecelia concerns him because he is becoming more candid around her. He often says things without thinking them through because he feels so safe with her, but this safety is dangerous in a way, too. He doesn’t want to reveal too much—about his plans regarding her father, about the terrible things he knows about the human traffickers, and so on. Nonetheless, his concern conveys the healing nature of emotional vulnerability.

“Running my fingers through the damp hair at her neck, I catch the brief close of her eyes and the glimmer of blue fire when they reopen and focus on me.”

Dom always associates Celia, somewhat paradoxically, with water and fire. She burns and she soothes, he says. This metaphor, comparing the light in her eyes to “blue fire” is another example of how deeply affected he is by her. He loves the healing she brings him but it also makes him nervous that he could lose control.

“Love is a four-letter curse. No bird I know of—who’s been struck by it—has ever flown quite the same way.”

Again, Dom enjoys the healing he feels when emotionally vulnerable with Cecelia, but he also doesn’t want to fall in love because he associates this emotion with a loss of control. Dom likes being in control, but it also exhausts him. He describes love as a “curse” because of the way it changes a person.

“It was another of those rare days spent out of my head. Where we did exactly shit—aside from watching movies on my laptop and fucking—but a day I didn’t feel like my world was coming to an end.”

This description implies that Dom usually feels as though his “world [is] coming to an end,” in part due to the corrosive power of vengeance. While his need for revenge and justice simmers under his skin, he cannot relax. He cannot escape the images of people doing awful things to children playing in his head. The fact that being with Cecelia can stop this loop demonstrates the healing nature of emotional vulnerability.

“I had to come here and make sure you know that you’re a good man, Dom—an incredible man.”

Cecelia knows that Dom thinks of himself as a kind of villain because of the choices he makes, as someone aligned with their darker impulses. When she learns, however, about how he routinely distributes money to local families in need, she urgently needs him to understand the good he does. Dom’s actions perpetuate a cycle of violence, but they also help deserving people, illustrating the moral ambiguity of vigilante justice.

“No woman has ever held so much ammunition against me with a single look.”

Dom’s description of his emotional relationship with Cecelia reveals just how unused to this kind of intimacy he is. He describes her effect on him as “ammunition,” a word associated with violence and conflict. This metaphor is unexpected, as emotional intimacy is usually associated with closeness, softness, and warmth.

“There’s a powerful group of people, several, who will stop at nothing to make sure we remain blind. We might have a chance if they’re knocked out of the equation.”

As Dom and Cecelia get closer, she gets better at reading him, and he finds it more challenging to hide his feelings. She can tell something is wrong, but rather than tell her the truth about what’s really bothering him, he talks about the colossal unfairness built into America’s economy and society. It isn’t his immediate trigger, but the depravity and entitlement of the human traffickers he wants to ruin is part of this corrupt system. His comments here emphasize the fantasy of the American Dream.

“I realize I’ve finally reached the place I’ve been searching for. A state not quite as blissful as the peaceful place I’ve come to rely on but strong enough to recognize—numb.”

After Dom kills the man he refers to as “the fly,” he knows Tyler is going to be angry, and he is. Despite the upset his friends feel as a result of his decision to act alone, outside of their careful planning, Dom feels numb. His numbness conveys the corrosive power of vengeance; Dom knows he saved many people from certain death by taking this man out, by avenging those the man has already hurt, but he has trouble feeling anything: neither relief, nor guilt, nor satisfaction, nor anger.

“Part human, part monster, and stuck in limbo for the foreseeable future. I’ve always labeled the other side ‘monsters’ because at least then I could justify slaying them. The truth is, those monsters are human beings capable of doing unspeakable acts outside moral lines—where I dwell to stop them—but pulling the trigger was different for me this time, and we all know it.”

Dom knows that the man he killed was poised to end or ruin the lives of many innocent others. Even though he’s always been able to justify his killings by thinking of his victims as “monsters,” he has begun to feel monstrous himself. This calls attention to the moral ambiguity of vigilante justice and the corrosive power of vengeance. He knows that the end result of his choice to kill the fly is good; he saved many more lives than he took, but guilt and anger continue to eat away at him.

“I’m too enraged, too fucking frustrated with all that’s wrong. All that needs to be fixed, all that I want to fix—to change that for anyone, let alone a nineteen-year-old woman.”

To Dom, villainous and malicious individuals are merely a symptom of a corrupt system. He’s made it his life’s purpose to punish them and avenge the innocent they’ve harmed, in part, because he knows he cannot change the system; it’s too big, too powerful, and he is just one man. the fantasy of the American Dream is merely one tactic built into the system to keep the powerful in power and the powerless ever striving.

“She sought me out, fed my starving heart, and resurrected it.”

Near the end of Dom’s exile, he realizes that he made a mistake in choosing Tobias and the club over Cecelia. For the first time, he really understands the value of value of their relationship and the comfort and confidence it gave him. Dom finally realizes the healing nature of emotional vulnerability, and the nature and significance of what Cecelia did for him by accepting him and loving him.