"She's fine." He says shortly, and then repeats it, as if to reassure her and himself. "She's fine."

He stops passing and runs a hand distractedly through his hair. "But that's not the point! They attacked her! Stupid low-lives, they attacked her! Sure, she's a drunkard most of the time and she's not the best at raising me, but she's still my mom. And they attacked her, hurt her, 'cause she didn't want to put out. Assholes!"

He goes back to pacing, needing movement, needing something to focus on. Movement, motion, that calmed him.

"And to make it worse, it happened while I was gone. I had to take care of some… business, and while I was away, she was attacked." He knows it makes him sound a little shady but he doesn't care at this point. "I didn't find out until later, much later, and her 'friends' had already taken care of the problem."

They'd beaten the guys up. Really took them to town. But he still felt like it wasn't enough. He stops, racking a hand frustratedly through his hair before he marches over and flops on her bed beside her, shoulders slumped in defeat and head bowed slightly. He turns his head away from her, despite needing to be closer, to be in her comforting presence. Perhaps because they're not exactly close, because she's not exactly close with anyone, he feels more comfortable opening up to her.

"…I want to hurt them. I want to rip them to shreds, to kill them. Whatever else she may be, she's still my mother."