Ch 3

A Mother's Love

Dante trudged through the front door, his head hung in shame. He tossed his back pack to the floor, and walked through the kitchen. His mother was there, waiting for him, a hopeful smile on her face and eyes that looked deep into Dante's soul. He took one look into those eyes and then stared at the floor, feeling his mothers smile fade to a look of worry.

She stood up and walked over to her son. Knelling down on one knee, she embraced him tightly, feeling him try to hold back a sob. She leaned back, keeping her hands on his shoulders and only removing them once to wipe a tear from his face.

Dante didn't quite understand himself why wouldn't just let go and cry. All he knew was that something inside of him kept telling him to be strong, but it didn't stop the tears from cascading down his face.

His mother looked up into his eyes and smiled as she spoke in a voice that could sooth the most savage of beasts.

"Dante," she began as she wiped away another tear, "you should never be afraid to cry."

"How come," he asked through a tiny sob.

"They say that only devils never cry."

Dante brought his arm to his face and wiped away more tears, as his mother sat in a near by chair and asked him what had happened. He told her all about the bus ride, his new friend ebony, and finally about the second grade bullies. When the story had finished, Dante sat in silence as his mother thought about the situation. The look on her face gave the hint that she wasn't only thinking about Dante. After several moments of silence, Dante broke in by asking, "What would Dad have done?"

His mother laughed and shook her head as she replied, "Your father never had to deal with things like school bullies, but I'm sure if he had, he would have beaten them senseless."

Dante tried to picture his father, but couldn't quite acquire an image of any kind. All he knew about his father is that he had fought against the demons of Hell to save the human race. As to a personality, Dante was completely clueless.

"what was he like? I don't remember." Dante said as he finished his thought.

His mother smiled as she stood up and motioned Dante to follow. They walked down the hallway and into Dante's bedroom. His mother reached deep into his closet and pulled a small handle hidden behind a shoebox. The back of the closet slid open to reveal a secret room which Dante had never seen before. He and his mother stepped into the room and the door closed behind them.

All around him were heads of monsters and numerous blades. A large suit of armor, way too big for any human, was displayed in a glass case. There was a desk in the center of the room with many different newspaper clippings strewn across the top of it. The entire room was lit in a faint red light.

Dante's mother sat down at the desk and began to show Dante large photo album, hidden inside of a drawer. She pointed out several family photos, from when the boys were very young. Dante stared into the eyes of one of his dad's photo, then looked at his own reflection in the plastic slots of the album. He saw his own face morph inot that of his father, then revert back to normal.

"your father was a good man, with a righteous heart. He was willing to give everything for us. He loved all of us very much." She looked deep into her son's eyes and said, "I see so much of your father in you. And that is something to be proud of. The next time those people try to make you think you are nothing, just remind yourself, you are the son of the legendary dark night, Sparda." The a smoking and Dante's face and he gave his mother a hug before heading toward the secret door. As he pushed the button, he was stopped by his mother's voice telling him she had something for him. He turned around and saw his mother holding a large sword in her hands . though Dante was able to hold the sword without losing balance, the sword was still taller than he was.

"it's called 'Force Edge'. Your father wanted you to have this." Another tear came to Dante's eyes as he held this little piece of his father in his hands. Is adrenaline suddenly began to pump. Something inside of him wanted to play with the sword. He had to obey, and did so by swinging the oversized blade through the air in every direction. His mother sat behind the desk, proudly watching as her son finished his trial use of his sword and ran out of room to brag to his brother.

She looked down to the portrait of her husband and said with a tear in her eye, "He's becoming more and more like you everyday. Wherever you are, I know you're proud."