(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.