2. Mad Encounter

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Good boys love their mothers. It's a rule, and it has been law since the start of everything. I loved my mother--I swear that on any god that may be out there-- but sometimes loving her took all my will power. It kind of made me feel like shit, though, like I was a horrible person for wanting to hate the woman who had given me life. I didn't know whose fault it was- her's for being a bad mother or mine for thinking that she was. Sometimes I would wonder if she was actually a good mother, and if I was just some kind of egotistical prick who had gotten it into his head for some reason that she wasn't.

But now that I'm gone and out of the house for good, I guess I'll never find out.

My finger immediately flew to the red decline button. Why would my mom be calling me at five o'clock in the morning? Really, I didn't expect her to be calling at all after the incident.

My mom is a strong Catholic. Strong to the point where every other word is about Jesus. My mom would make me participate in every little church activity when I was younger, and if I didn't want to do it, she'd yell at me and say that Jesus has done so much for me that not going to a little activity for him is a great sin. And I had believed her for a while, she'd really had me convinced. For years of my life I was horrified that I might accidentally lie or say a cuss word and go to hell for it, all because of the information she had been giving me ever since I came out of the womb.

One day, my Christian morals began seriously deteriorating. Around the time I had hit fourteen. I don't know what it was, but it hit me so suddenly and I didn't know where it was coming from. Just growing up, I guess. I starting cursing. Started breaking rules.

Started doubting the existence of a God.

That's the big one. That's the one that terrified me. Because I knew if my mother found out I would be severely punished. Most likely beaten senseless. My mother was strong, she was tough enough to take on just about anyone.

But that's also the one that stayed with me. I don't curse as often as I used to, and I try to be a good person, or at least I think I do, but that's the one that really stuck.

And I made a mistake last week. I made a really big mistake.

My mom had been going through her mid afternoon prayer with me, and I had snapped. I was tired of it. Bottling all my thoughts up and being forced to hide how I really felt. All my doubts, all my disbelief came flying at her in a torrent of rage.

And now here I was.

I sighed. Curse my mom and curse my stupid anger issues. No question where I got those from. I don't know if my father has them as well, mainly because I have never met the son of a bitch. And I don't really care to.

But all daddy issues aside. Mom could be calling for one of two reasons. One, she's had a sudden change of heart and wants to accept me back into her humble abode with open arms.

Don't think that's it.

Two, something really important has happened. This is most likely it since she's calling me at five in the damn morning. I shuddered to think about what it could be. I didn't want to think about what it could be, honestly. Most likely she was extremely pissed off about something. I'd have to do my best to avoid her. I really didn't feel like dealing with any of her shit, especially after she had thrown me out like I was a giant piece of trash.

Five in the fucking morning, I thought to myself.

I could feel the stress eating its way back. I shook my head and turned on the TV and the small night light near my bed, offering me just enough light to read my sudoku puzzle and become lost in a world where I actually have some sort of power.

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