(Son sneaks down the stairs to the fridge)
(Mother enters)
Mother: Where do you think your going!?
Son: Where do you think I’m going?
Mother: What did I say about these protests you keep going
Son: I don’t care about what you say anymore, you cant control my life
Mother: What! You think I cant control where you go, you live under my bloody roof child. If you want anymore money or food, I suggest you stop giving me attitude and start listening to what I say. If you don’t want to get killed stay at home and don’t go to the protest.
Son: I’m going where ever I feel is right, I don’t care about money or food I care about what is right.

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