See you on the Malibu beach

Anger rose in his system, coursing thick and hot in his veins. Dread's head spun. Like he didn't quite belong to his body, with more emotions than he could even name crashing over him in waves. "There was no need for it to go that far," he snapped. The boy's world view wasn't wide enough to realize, wasn't complete enough to know. "Even if she had succeeded, I could handle being their prisoner for a while. I'm not some pup." The words ripped from his chest, from his throat, spat before him.

Still, as the Warlord continued on, more pieces would fall into place. Dread's demeanor and posture shifted, his weight shifting over his paws. Less outright defensive, and more... more. More of what? There was pain, now. There were things that he hadn't processed, things that were bubbling to the surface. Things he didn't know how to talk about. Things that he'd felt like he couldn't talk about. Acutely aware of his growing exhaustion, Dread doesn't know how to choose his words carefully. Teenage boys in fights with their fathers rarely do.

"It's not black and white, like you make it seem." His voice cracked, and he faltered. Processing his father's words about his mother... his mother. He bit back a whimper at her mere mention. Dread's own breath was ragged, picking up pieces of understanding. His mother had been kidnapped? She'd been taken away... the boy could feel pain blooming within his head, the ringing in his ears getting louder, more intense. When he finally spoke again, his voice shook. "All of us are living with mom's ghost, but you're the only one not living in your shadow." Pain colors his tone, not malice. Dread's gaze rests beseechingly on his father, trying to prevent his lower lip from quivering. Trying to look brave, despite feeling anything but.

"speech"