"But he's my son," Mom cried, frantically looking between us. "I can't just –"

"And I'm your husband," Wren snarled, slamming his fist down on the counter. "And Sophie is our daughter. We don’t need his shit, Trish. Look at him. He's all grown now. I've done my bit. I want him gone. "

"But…" Mom sobbed, clutching her chest. "They're both my children."

"Don’t you worry, Mama. I ain't about to stand around and ask you to choose," I sneered. "You're welcome to him."

Having got that off my chest, I stalked out of the kitchen, passing my mother in the process.

Taking the staircase two steps at a time, I stormed into my bedroom and yanked open my closet doors.

Grabbing the duffel bag that I kept under my bed, I started to pack my shit up, and I didn’t stop until the bag was full.

"D?" Sniffling in my bedroom doorway, Sophie looked at me guiltily. "I'm sorry –"

"I don’t know what your motive was for letting Molly inside to hear all that, or what I ever did to you that was so fucking terrible that you would do me dirty like that, but I'm not ready to talk to you about it," I warned her, shaking with anger.

"If you just let me explain –"

"I'm not ready to hear your side and I don’t know if I ever will be. So, you need to walk away, Soph."

"Daryl, put your clothes away." That was mom. "I mean it." Frantic, she burst into my room, hands flailing and tears streaming. "Stop packing your stuff –"

"I ain't staying in this house another night," I snapped, cutting her off. "I ain't staying with you people another damn second."

"You people?" She sucked in a sharp breath. "I'm your mother."

"Yeah, some mother," I sneered with a shake of my head.

"Daryl…" A pained sob escaped her lips. "I know you're upset right now, but you can't leave. You're my son. I'll talk Wren around. I will. Just unpack your stuff and we can –"

"Save it." Closing the zipper on my duffel bag, I tossed it over my shoulder before moving for the door. "We're done."

"No." Sobbing loudly, she chased me down the staircase and tried blocking the front door when I went to leave.

"Let me go, Mama," I instructed, jaw ticking.

"No," she continued to sob.

"Let the little bastard go, Trish," Wren called out from the kitchen. "Don’t worry. He ain't going far."

"Why don’t you do us both a favor and go fuck yourself with a nine iron," I roared back before turning my attention back to Mom. "Let me go."

"B-but where will you go?"

"It ain't your concern anymore," I bit out, stepping around her and yanking the front door open.

"Daryl –"

"Goodbye, Mama. Have a nice life."

49 Molly

Slumped at the kitchen table, I held my head in my hands as my whole world fell down around me.