A/N: DON'T SPAZ ON ME. I KNOW I HAVE TO FINISH MY OTHER STORIES BEFORE I START ANOTHER XD But this is actually an assignment I have to do for my creative writing class. Hope you enjoy it :D cause this is actually a little side story to another rather large story I'm working on for you guys. Can you believe this is actually the only edited piece I've ever posted?

A blanket of pure white snow was piling up around me and the stone tablet that represented my mother. I pulled the hood of my jacket up over my head to keep the freezing particles from falling down the back of my shirt, just in time as well, the wind started picking up and blowing snowflakes into my face. Why was I here again? The cemetery only brought back the unwanted memories that I had taught myself to forget about; the memories that would make my heart ache in pain and bring tears in my eyes. I read the words on the tombstone over and over, just as I had done after they'd buried my mother in the ground. 'Forever to watch over her beloved son', read the words etched into the granite block. I didn't believe these words when my aunt had first suggested them to me for her grave stone. My mother, Lise Duer, had a horrible fight with me, her 'beloved son', Haydn Duer and would never, even after death, want to watch over me.

It all began the morning of Friday, November 30th, 2007; rain was pouring down, flooding the streets and yards of the city, I knew the moment I woke up that day was going to be one of the worst this year. I'd crawled out of bed that morning, dressed myself and dragged my feet downstairs and into the kitchen where my mother was preparing breakfast. As normal she had on that stupid smile she wore every day. Never once did I ever see her in the morning without that cheerful smile. I hated that kind of personality, but somehow, beyond my comprehension, I still loved seeing that reassuring grin every morning.

"Good morning, Hun," she said beaming over at me, "You hungry?"

Sighing, I shook my head "No, I'm fine, I'm late for school anyways," I told her, grabbing a banana off of the counter, peeling it and taking a small bite. "By the way, I'm not going to come home tonight; one of my friends is having a party."

The smile stiffened on her face and a long pause preceded my words. "You were going to help me out at the restaurant tonight," she said simply, not looking away from the pan where she was making pancakes for herself, "Did you forget?"

"No, I just changed my plans, I'm sure someone else can help you," I replied, taking another small bite of my banana.

She turned to me with a hint of a glare in her emerald green eyes, the same ones that I had inherited, "You know there's no one who's going to stay to help, there's a huge amount of guests coming and I already told my supervisor that you were going to help me out," she said, I could tell she was upset, it was obvious in her tone of voice. "You're not going to the party, be at the restaurant at seven-o-clock and if you're any later then you won't be hanging out with your friends very much."

I glared furiously at her "You can't tell me what to do," I hissed back, "I'm going to the party and that's final; you can work on your own, that's your job, not mine."

She moved the pan off the eye of the stove and spun around towards me "You're fifteen," she said in a low angry tone, the furious gaze drilling holes in my head, "You will not tell me what you are or are not doing and you will not talk back to me. Do you understand?"

"I'm not going to help you," I spat at her, throwing my banana on the floor "You're never even here, what gives you the right to suddenly act all motherly? I wish you would just stay out of my life!" I turned on my heels and storming out of the house, grabbing my school bag, that I'd left by the front door, on my way out.

I would have never dreamed that this, of all conversations, would be the last that I would ever have with my mother.

I sat in my algebra class in fourth period, thinking about what a horrible parental figure my mother was. She was always contradicting herself, telling me one minute that I just have to tell her where I'm going to be and she would be fine with it and the next minute she's telling me I can't go somewhere. What kind of mother does that? This was unbelievable! I hit my desk with my fist and the whole class turned to me, a couple of the girls snickering and the guys rolling their eyes in annoyance.

"Haydn, if you want attention so much then come up here and answer the question that we're working on," said Mr. Roswell, my annoying, old, fat algebra teacher who always hated my guts.

My eyes narrowed and I stood up, pushing my chair into the desk behind me. Everyone loved this part of the class, Mr. Roswell would tell me to answer a question, I would get mad and storm up to the front of the class and write the answer on the chalk board, which I despised doing, and answer the question wrong; looking like the idiot of the class, which I was.

The familiar tune chimed across the loud speaker, making each class room pause in silence as they waited for the school announcement to be said.

"Haydn Duer, you're needed in the principal's office," said the voice of the secretary of the school and she repeated herself, "Haydn Duer, you're needed in the principal's office."

I blinked and smirked at Mr. Roswell, who now looked angry at the announcement, he was definitely looking forward to seeing me fail once again at algebra. "Sorry, Mr. Roswell," I said grabbing my backpack and making my way towards the exit "Maybe next time."

He glared back at me, wanting to badly to write me out a detention slip for being rude. Everyone knew that detention never fazed me in the slightest, I would never learn to keep my mouth shut, and I couldn't let these chances pass by.

It wasn't until I was already out of the class room and a ways down the hallway did I start worrying about the announcement. I couldn't remember doing anything wrong throughout the day, maybe talking back to the teachers, but I do that every day, what was so special about today?

I walked into the waiting room for the offices of the school "Good afternoon," said the secretary, grinning slightly at me, "The principal is waiting, so you can go on in."

I grinned at her and ran my fingers through my dark black hair, a nervous habit of mine. As I opened the door of Principal Kessler's office and took a step inside, the atmosphere changed dramatically. The feeling of sadness and remorse filled the room, it was almost too much to handle, crushing my heart little by little with each step I took towards the dreaded leather chair in front of Mr. Kessler's desk. Since when had this room been so utterly depressing?

The principal turned around in his chair slowly to face me, he was watching the news on a small television against the far wall. "Haydn, I just got a call from the police," he said as the news reporter went on about a car crash, which had resulted in one casualty. "I'm sorry to tell you this during school, but I thought that you might want to go home or stay with a family member," Mr. Kessler went on, "Your mother was in a car crash on her way to work…" I'd never in my life experienced such a long, terrifying silence, my mother would have never gotten into an accident; she was one of the most careful drivers I had ever known.

"Is she alright?" I asked hesitantly, glancing at the television again, a close up of the two totaled cars appeared on the screen, one of which I knew was my mother's old minivan, the bumper sticker stating 'In God We Trust' still clearly visible on the back bumper. "One Casualty," I replayed in my head, could that mean my mom?

Mr. Kessler leaned across the table and grabbed one of my hands "Haydn, I'm so sorry," he paused "Your mother died on impact."

I snapped my hand away from him and stood up, this couldn't be happening "Yo-you're lying," I told him sharply. I knew deep down inside my subconscious that this was no joke, no lie, just the truth. Denial was the only thing that could keep me from breaking down into hysterical sobbing.

"I wish I was," Mr. Kessler said leaning back in his high backed leather chair "I can't imagine what you're going through, is there anyone I can call?"

I stared down at my feet; unable to process all of this is my head. I had just talked to my mom that morning… I had fought with her. Was that going to be the last thing I ever got said to her? That I wished she would stay out of my life? I didn't want that to be the last thing I told her, the last moments that I would remember her by. The attempt of Mr. Kessler to comfort me was nothing but a bee in my ear; annoying, constant, buzzing.

The hours ticked by fast, it seemed that everytime I looked at a clock an hour had passed. My aunt, who lived about an hour away from me came to pick me up from school and took me to her house. I didn't speak one word the whole ride to her home, nor did I speak for the next couple of days. I had spiraled into a deep depression, a hole that seemed so large that I thought I would never be able to climb my way out of it. My aunt continuously tried to get me to talk to her, it never worked. I ended up locking myself in the guest room of her house until I got hungry. Only then would I come out, grab a quick snack and then lock myself away once more.

Each night that past, I would dream of waking up that fateful morning and having a peaceful chat with my mother. It wasn't until I woke up the next morning would I realize that it was only a dream; I would then break down and cry my heart out. The death of a loved one is a truly painful event. I'd never once thought about what it would be like if my mother died; what I would have said to her before her untimely departure. But my chance had passed; the time with her I had taken advantage of was gone, never to return.

The funeral service dragged on and on, stating the same things over and over about my mom. Everyone was dressed in black; woman crying and dabbing their eyes with tissues; men standing still and silent, showing little emotion. A couple of my mom's co-workers would make a little speech about their time with her, always saying how happy and helpful she was. What gave them the right to say something at her funeral? They didn't know her like I did or like my aunt or grandparents did. Why were the people who knew so little about her crying?

My grandmother stood up and walked to the white casket and laid her hand on the lid. Children were never meant to die before their parents, how my grandmother must have felt about being at her daughter's funeral. My grandfather stood behind her, not even glancing at the coffin, unable to bear the thought that it was his eldest daughter lying peacefully inside. Next was my aunt to say her goodbyes, her tears falling gracefully onto the casket. I didn't even pay attention to the rest of the people walking by my mom, most of them I didn't even recognize. I noticed one man in particular who had a major resemblance to me, he must have been my father who'd left me and my mother when I was three. I didn't want to talk to him, I didn't want to talk to anyone; none of them knew what I was feeling.

It wasn't long before the crowd had thinned out, leaving only me and my aunt there at the cemetery. My aunt was waiting in the car, while I sat where I had been sitting for the whole service. There I was, sitting in front of my departed mother, wishing that I had another chance to tell her how much I loved her.

I must have looked so pathetic to the people who saw me that day, burying myself in my own self pity, making myself out to be the victim in the situation. But here I was today, two years later, now a healthy seventeen year old boy, sitting once again in front of my mother and begging for forgiveness. Only this time, I wasn't depressed, I wasn't helpless and I knew that with life there comes death.

The snow fall had ceased, leaving me and the cold, hard stone slab in utter silence once again. My hand ran across my mother's name 'Lise Mikkel Duer'.

"Thank you," I said simply to the grave "For everything."

"Haydn!" called out my best friend, Benjamin, who was waiting with our friend Barker at the entrance of the cemetery "You ready to go?!"

I turned and smiled at them "Yeah! I'm coming!" I called back. I gave one last glance at the tomb stone and read the words that I now believed in.

'Forever to watch over her beloved son.'

A/N: Hope you enjoyed :D Be prepared for the main story to this in about a month or so, so maybe put me on your alert list? :P