"You're no son of mine." The weight of those words still hung heavy around his neck.

The pain and anguish he had to endure only to be denied his prize at the last moment was unbearable even now. In dreams like this, he could still see her face, still watch her walk away without the slightest sign of effort or regret. He opened his eyes. Morning's light had just began to seep through the cracks in his curtains. Golden waves of warmth flowed across the room and onto his gaunt face, piercing the darkness that surrounded him and dispelling his dream. His eyes slowly rose to meet their source, but his heart remained as cold as it had ever been. Today was the day he'd have to confront her again. The day that he'd have to fight against every fiber of his being not to break down and beg her for forgiveness as she expected him to; to force himself to realize she was in the wrong and to tear her down in front of possibly the most important figure in both of their lives. Today he'd have to wage war against his own mother. His cell phone vibrated, creating a gentle buzzing sound on the dresser next to his bed. The sound had a pleasant ring to it, if only because he knew what it meant. He reached over and grabbed it, knocking over an empty crystal bottle in the process. As he pulled the device closer to his face, he noticed a gentle breeze flowing through the window. Catch me if you can ;P It took him a second to gather his wits, but as soon as he was sure the sliding glass door at the opposite end of the room was open he sprung to his feet. A wave of nausea overcame him and he eyed the crystal bottle responsible with a combination of amusement and uncertainty, a small amount of violet liquid still thrashing about inside as he shook it. How much had he drank last night? "Guess I'll find out..." He stumbled over to the closet and grabbed a pair of blue jeans and a button-down white shirt. A quick second later and he was fully clothed, mind whirring at the thought of the task that lay before him. She was a cunning fox and an early riser; no doubt she woke up early to prepare for this test. He jogged to the open window - his legs and feet responding much more adequately to his commands now - and examined it. A single strand of long, golden hair remained attached to the unlocked latch, betraying its former owner. A brief glance out of the window into the courtyard told him all he needed to know and he shut it, making sure to lock it firmly.

He ran to the bedroom door and carefully opened it, keeping a watchful eye on the opening it created. Noticing a line of monofilament leading off of the door handle, he stopped abruptly. Carrying the line in his hand, he carefully traced it to the other end. It ended in a small hole in the side of his dresser, above a slightly larger hole about the size of a dime. He slowly slid the adjacent drawer open, taking care to keep his head and body out of sight of the opening until it was completely opened. Once he felt the click that indicated the drawer was at the end of its track, he carefully peered over its edge. Inside was a small revolver aimed at the hole in the side of the dresser drawer, with the monofilament attached to its trigger. He let out a small chuckle, happy to have avoided the first of her traps. As he turned his head up and towards the door, however, he found himself peering down the twin barrels of his shotgun. "Really? Now that's not parti-" The sudden explosion that followed as the gun discharged made short work of his objections.