He can’t leave until his mother is definitely asleep. Her morning cleaning shift starts at six, so she is usually dead to the world by ten. He can’t risk being caught again. He always tries to avoid trouble, but hard-earned reputations do not defend themselves. She doesn’t trust him or his friends. Never has.
Hearing her exhausted exhalations through the bedroom door, he grabs phone and keys from the kitchen table. Furtive fingers seek out the reassuring weight of warm metal, buried deep in his pocket. Italian made. Five inches, flick action. Serrated blade. It will keep him safe. No danger.