Chapter thirteen
It'd been 6 months since his mother's brutal murder. A lot had changed within that time. His father was arrested and sentenced to 16 years in prison and Dylan had been sent to live in foster care. He never stayed put though. If he wasn't running away from the home he was getting into fights with the other children which initially ended up in him getting transferred.
He was sat on a bench by the canal watching the boats sail past. He liked boats. He liked the idea of being able to live in the same place but with different scenery whenever you pleased.
It was cold out and his flimsy jacket didn't protect him from the harshness of the wind. He tucked his knees under his chin and pulled the brown paper bag next to him closer. Inside was a little cake with the words "Happy Birthday" frosted on the top. He took a bite and savored the sweetness of the cake. It brought back memories of when he was little and he and his mother used to bake cakes together.
Then it hit him. He'd been filled with so much hate and anger that he didn't have time to process what had happened in the last 6 months. Now, he was only just coming to the realisation that his mother was dead. She was dead. Gone. They'd never be able to bake cakes together again, he'd never hear her soft voice again. His eyes swelled with tears and he dropped the cake onto the damp floor below. He didn't even have a chance to say goodbye to her.
He allowed himself to clear all the anger and hatred from his system so only sadness remained. He cried, the salty tears stung his cheeks. When he had finished crying and all the sadness was gone the anger and the hatred returned, but this time it was stronger. He felt like a time bomb just waiting to explode. He wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his jacket and stood up from the bench.
Then he ran. He didn't know where he was running to but he knew he couldn't stay here.