I do not own The Outsiders. S.E. Hinton owns all.

You weren't quite sure why you even bothered showing up.

You never cared for him. After all, he was the reason why your life was so screwed up. He was the reason why you were stuck in Tulsa, married to an asshole who didn't care about anything but booze and himself. He was the reason why you were so bitter.

And yet, you're sitting in a church, waiting for your only son's funeral to begin. You begin to think. Perhaps you were here because you still felt loyalty towards him. He was your son. Your first and only son.

Your first and only child.

A bitter laugh escapes from your throat. As if you owed him anything. The bond between mother and child had been broken years ago, severed by bitterness and anger. You remember holding him in the hospital, hating him almost immediately. He looked just like Thomas. His deadbeat father. From that moment on, you knew Johnny would be just like him.

A useless, worthless, lazy deadbeat.

Sixteen years had passed since that day, and you knew you were right. A smug smirk tugs at your lips. That stupid, worthless boy had gotten himself killed. Saved a bunch of kids in a church fire, or something like that.

Johnny had always been a moron (just like his father), but you didn't think he'd be that stupid. Hadn't you raised him to think that he should only care for himself? You sigh and turn your attention to the front, hoping it would be over quickly. After all, you didn't owe Johnny anything and you weren't going to start pretending like you did.