You're a widowed mother of a somewhat spoiled son. He's always been that way, since his father instilled it in him when he was alive, but after his father's death, it led to his rebellion.

One day you arrived home from work at eleven o'clock at night, utterly exhausted, but you went to William's room anyway to check on him.

When you got to his room, you saw him standing there, training, hitting a punching bag. He soon turned and looked at you with a disdainful expression.

He said, tugging at his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face:

William: What do you want, Mom?