Matthew Keller was twenty-two years old.

At this point in his life he was at the awkward juncture in which his criminal life had become so normal that he was cocky, but he hadn't been in it long enough to see the drawbacks. He'd stolen, he'd forged, he'd conned his way through life and it didn't look like any of that was about to change.

He had to the perfect partner in crime. The infamous Neal Caffrey. And on occasion, his trusted sidekick Mozzie or girlfriend Kate. He was truely living the good life.

But he still believed in his morals. Everything his mother had taught him through life. She was a cold, harsh woman but she loved him, and he knew that. So he loved her too.

So it was this stormy summer evening where our story begins.

Keller was returning to his parents house for the first time in four years. He'd been fairly consistent in the beginning with keeping in touch with his mother, but soon weeks drew out into months and months into years...

Today was her birthday and for the past four years he'd been busy on these days, or at least said that he was but tonight he was in the Bronx for the week, and he still had a deep, nagging feeling of guilt in the pit of his stomach reminding him that he owed this woman the respect of wishing her a happy birthday.

He took a deep breath as he stood outside the apartment building he remembered all too well. He tried not to think about facing his father. If he'd been drinking (which, given his track record, he probably had been.) the argument which would ensue was inevitable.

Keller contemplated just going home, reasoning that his mother would be better off, if he went in there he and his dad would fight, Keller would leave and his mother would have to deal with his drunken, pissed off father.

It took every bit of will power he posessed to push himself foward into the building. And up the four flights of stairs. And up to the door...

He reached up to knock but realized the door was already open. Keller peered through the crack nervously and wished he had never came when he saw the scene before him.

But human nature compelled him to enter the room completely to have a better look. The room was a wreck. The coffee table was pushed over, a beer bottle was smashed on the kitchen floor. Things had been pulled off shelves, dishes and glasses were smashed on the floor, furniture was overturned but the worst of it was to be found in his parents' bedroom.

His mother was lying on the floor, bleeding profusely from her head. There was a gun on the floor beside her, and the pool of blood surrounding her was truely sickening. Upon closer inspection Keller came to the horrible realization that she was still alive. But hardly.

"Ma, wake up." Keller croaked.

He knew it sounded stupid, and there was no point in it, it was clear this was the end.

There was a very long silence during which Keller started to cry, it was because of this that he hadn't noticed his mother stir.

"Matthew?"

He looked down at her and grabbed ahold of the hand she pointed at him weakly.

Keller choked back the tears that were about to fall and managed to say, and when he thought back on it, he couldn't tell you why he said it, but he said,

"Happy Birthday, Ma."

It seemed to take a moment for her to register what he'd said, but when she did, she smiled at him. It lasted maybe a three seconds, and then it faltered as her remaining strength left her, and the life left her eyes.

Keller was silent for a moment. He looked from his mother's body, to the destruction of the living room and kitchen, and then broke down in tears.

Nothing could've stopped him for at least two more hours except the sound of his father's voice.

"Matt?"

It was a drunken slur Keller remembered very well.

Keller jumped to his feet to see his father enter the apartment completely. He watched as he weaved around, blood on his hands, and the panicked expression of someone who'd just killed someone else.

"You fucking killed her, you drunk son of a bitch!"

His dad said nothing in response, but it was all so clear. It was obvious he'd killed her.

Keller picked up the gun off the floor and pointed it at his father.

It's said that men have times in their lives where they "see red" and can't think very clearly or control what they do when they reach this point of absolute rage.

Keller was seeing red this evening.

The next thing he remembered, was sitting in his car, a block or two away, and breaking down crying again.

He'd never meant to kill him. But at the same time he had. And it had been so easy... All he'd done was pulled a trigger and he ended another human being's life.

So easy...