Almost instantly his mom's hand flew to her trembling mouth and he froze in place. For this was the last thing he ever expected to hear. The room was eerily silent as
they stared at one another and after what seemed like an eternity, the silence was broken.
"Flynn, did you hear what I said?"
"Can I go to the dance?" was his only reply.
Her face turned ashen and she stared at him in disbelief. "Flynn.."
"I heard you! He's dead!" he yelled. Angrily he picked up the pillow and hurled it across the room.
He saw his mother swallow hard. "And?"
"What do you want me to say? That I'm sad, that he's gone? That I miss him? That he was my hero? Well it's not true! He was a monster! He killed Uncle Hank and
took Holly from us! And if you want to cry and mope about him being gone go head, but I can't! I have to go!"
"Flynn, wait! Talk to me, please! Look, I know your father has done some terrible things, but you must be feeling something right now; sad, confused, mad-."
"Terrible? Terrible?" He yelled. "Terrible doesn't even begin to describe him! If he hadn't been such a jackass, Uncle Hank would be here now and not in the ground in a
cemetery while Aunt Marie cries all the time!"
"Flynn, let me help you! I know this is hard and I know you're sad but-."
"Why should I be sad? The man who killed my Uncle Hank is dead and he can't take Holly from us anymore! And you can't tell me what to feel!"
"I'm your mother and I know what's best for you!"
"How can you know what's best for me? Do you expect me to just forget what that monster did? Well you can forget about it because it's never going to happen!"
"Flynn-."
She was sobbing now and he knew that he should comfort her but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He had to leave; had to be alone.
"Look, go ahead and cry for him all you want. I don't care! I'm going to that dance and there's nothing you can do to stop me!"
As he struggled with his crutches to walk out of the door, he could hear his mom crying even harder behind him. And when he reached his room, he made certain to
slam the door, rattling the walls in the process.
No one understood what he was going thorough and he had no one to be happy for him. Uncle Hank would be happy for him but the man he had looked up to was
gone now, killed by the hands of a monster, and ironically known as his father.
He wouldn't trade his mother for anything in the world, but why couldn't Uncle Hank have been his dad? He'd give anything for that to be true. And if it was, he could
truly grieve for the father he had lost so suddenly. But now he just didn't give a damn.