Wapun Meadow learning that i’m deserving of love and the peaceful heart

"no! no!" he screamed at the sight of her own tears. "you don't get to cry! you don't get to do that. you left me! like i was nothing! and you never came back!" the anguish of his childhood lashed toward her now, knife-edged and bitter; wormwood. "what was i supposed to do without you?" merrick begged, ire still curling his lip.
"you're such a selfish cunt! still?" the boy snapped toward the shrinking red-furred woman. "you made me. i want you to unmake me, indra," he explained in a tremulous mixture of sarcasm and rage. each one of her breaths dragged more pain into his heart; his mother's innocent, questioning expression almost sent merrick into a paroxysm of incendiary shrieking again.
"i can't change until you're dead," the boy muttered, words suddenly garbled. "the creator dies before the creation can really live. don't you know that? you know that," he insisted. "i had to raise myself. and boy did i do a bad fucking job, indra." 
here he paced in a tight semi-circle, returning to glare at her with an abject, unrestrained hatred. "you don't deserve it, but i'll be quick, mother. i can be merciful —"
a sharp, shaking breath; a sob
" — even though you weren't."