I do not own Bates Motel.

But, in some ways, I do own a Dylan. And I love him so much.

Yeah, Whatever

Him

Dylan Massett hunched in the semi dark over his nearly empty bottle of Coors.

His face was moist with tears and he kept sniffling back the snot that always came with them.

Oh god, I am.

I am him.

And he flashed it back.

Norman, laying on the floor beat up and bleeding.

By him.

Dylan.

Who had attacked him.

Well, they had attacked each other.

"Don't call her a whore!"

But Norman was the only one who got seriously busted up.

Bloody nose and black eye.

As opposed to the small scratch on Dylan's hand from the broken dish.

And Dylan was . . .

Oh god.

. . . not well.

I'm such a loser.

A loser who can't get away from these people 'cause I'm nothing without them.

And nothing with them.

Fantastic.

Throat choked and working. Eyes welling stupidly.

I hate this.

I've only been back a few days.

And everything's the same.

Them and me.

I just wanted to not fight for a while.

I have always fought in this family.

Fought to keep from getting the shit kicked out of me by Sam.

Fought for love and attention from Norma.

Fought to get away.

I was hungry and homeless and jobless and worthless in South Dakota.

Stupid crew boss laid me off.

Kicked out of my crap apartment after Skip and Kelly ran off together with the rent money.

Strung out on whatever I could get to take the pain away.

And now where am I?

Hell.

I mean, White Pine Bay.

Shit.

Well, at least there's food here.

A roof.

Norma.

And Norman.

God, what did she do to that kid?

He's like a little pod person freak.

And she's like this screaming, whiny, unstable psycho-bitch.

So exactly the same.

God, I should have stayed in South Dakota and starved.

And since when the hell did Norman start swinging meat tenderizers at people's heads?

"I told you not to do that!"

And flashed it further back.

"See what you made me do, you little shit?!"

"I'm sorry, Dad!"

"I'm not your dad, you little brat! Your mom whored around with some guy and then trapped me into taking care of her!"

"I'm sor-"

"Stop saying you're sorry, you little shit, and leave me alone!"

Dylan chugged another swig and pressed his thick, sick forehead to the bar miserably.

Oh god, I am him.

I really think that's what that entire scene was about besides Norman's homicidal tendencies. Dylan seemed so hurt and offended, there just had to be more than just, 'waah, waah, don't hit me!'

What's your opinion?

Thanks to DinahRay (not yet, sweetie but he will get there) and Lana Brown for reviewing. I really appreciate you, you're very kind.