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Puzzle Pieces

Summary:

“And things…. are just worse now.” Steve clicked his lighter close, frowning at the sound of Max’s voice that drifted through the open hole. “My stepbrother’s always been a dick, but now he’s just angry…all the time and…well he can’t take it out on my Mum so…” Max trailed off and Steve bit the inside of his cheek so hard he thought he tasted blood.

He thought of Billy’s hand on Max’s wrist in the carpark, of the way his eyes shone in the locker room. There’s plenty of bitches in the sea. I’ll be sure to leave you some. There was an edge…something, that unsettled Steve.

“So, he takes it out on you?” Lucas was more perceptive than Steve perhaps gave him credit for.

 

So, he takes it out on you?

 

Another piece fell into place.

Notes:

So this is kinda becoming a drabble series, all in the same universe, but either in different perspectives or points of time. This one is a bit less 'prose-ish' than the last, but I felt like with Steve he suited a different style of writing. Poor boy's got a lot of conflict going on in his head.

Work Text:

There was something about Max Mayfield that Steve Harrington couldn’t put his finger on. He’d known how to talk, touch, kiss and fuck several different women in his life, balancing the platonic, the familial and the sexual in what he liked to consider a fairly delicate way. But as much as he’d once been what many considered a ‘King’ of his school, Steve felt completely out of his depth when it came to the redhead.

 

She had rough edges, something jagged that made him want to reach out and purposely prick himself, just to see if she’s shout and scream at him, see something buried underneath the quick quips and sarcastic eyerolls.

 

He didn’t of course. Steve was a good guy.

 

Wasn’t he?

 

Once upon a time he was the sort of guy to cross small lines and blur the sensibility of the small town of Hawkins, but since bounding himself up with Nancy, Dustin and his rag-tag group, he’d changed.

 

At least he thought he had.

 

That was until she and her half-mad brother had driven up in that fucking Camaro into Hawkins High and fucked things up.

 

--

 

Steve first saw her that fateful day when her and her brother rounded into the carpark of the middle and high school. Steve could see Nancy’s eyes linger on Billy’s form for a little longer than he appreciated. Billy Hargrove, a name that would be whispered across the school, as any newcomer with fairly decent looks was. Once upon a time he would have felt threatened, now he simply felt agitated. He didn’t give a shit if some Californian douchebag wanted to take his old friends and old title.

 

As much as the student body spoke about Billy, little was said about Max. It was as though the two were polar opposites. Billy stood out on purpose, forcing many eyes to draw to him, whether simply by his looks, or by a low croon at the right woman. Max seemed dull to most by comparison. Not to Steve though. As days went past, he heard Dustin and Lucas ramble about the girl, and he had begun to watch her as well out of mere curiosity. Indeed, Max clung to her skateboard like it was a lifeline and a weapon in one. He wondered why. Was she simply that shy? No, that didn’t seem to be it. She’d knocked the boys down several times with her fast lines and breezy nature. So why the safety blanket, if not to feel safe in a strange environment?

 

--

 

Halloween had just made things go from bad to worse in his life. He had thought a party would be what he needed, instead he lost his girlfriend and dignity in the process.

 

Bullshit.

 

He could go without that word echoing in his head constantly. Nancy had sounded so cold when she’d told him he was bullshit.

 

Once upon a time, Steve knew he had been bullshit.

 

Now? The word stung.

 

He was already on the cusp of a headache when gym class came around. That meant Billy had the perfect opportunity to do what Steve suspected he did best; make things worse.

 

“Harrington, right?” Billy almost sounded convincing, like he didn’t know exactly who Steve was. Steve grunted as Billy’s chest slammed into him. Billy had watched Tommy lord over him the night before, he knew exactly who Steve was. He ignored Billy, focusing on the game at hand.

 

“I heard you used to run this school. That true?” Billy asked.

 

Yes.

 

“King Steve, they used to call you, huh?” Billy’s tone is more mocking now, as if the mere idea of Steve ruling anything is laughable. Steve bristled. “Then you turned Bitch.”

 

Steve can’t see his face, but can feel the wicked smile on his lips. He was playing more than just basketball in that moment and Steve wasn’t going to let some Californian asshole rile him up, even if his head was still pounding.

 

“Hey, maybe you should just shut up and play the game.”

 

To Billy’s credit, he does just that. The ball is out of Steve’s hands and in the hoop before he can process what is going on.

 

“Whoo!” Billy is one to showboat, and Steve groaned as he watched it.

 

“That’s what I’m talking about! Whoo!” Tommy, ever the copycat, joined in the jeering.

 

It hurt, but not as much as the conversation with Nancy that followed after. The rest of it was just selfish children in the proverbial sandpit.

 

--

 

Steve got his answer on a part of the mystery of Max Mayfield after Halloween, as the school day wrapped up for the day. Max and Lucas had a disagreement, and Steve leant against his car, debating whether he should wait for Dustin or not as it was clear Lucas wasn’t riding home with the other boys. Steve could see Billy waiting for his sister, hands clenched around the hood of his car and eyes dark as he watched the redhead skate towards the Camaro. He didn’t move or let his eyes stray until Max was in touching distance of the car.

 

“That kid you were talking to, who is he?” Billy sounded casual, but Steve couldn’t help but frown. Billy wouldn’t ask if he didn’t care, he’d observed enough of the guy during the last few weeks at Hawkins High to know he lacked general compassion for most of his peers.

 

“No one.” Max said sullenly, and Steve winced for Lucas’ sake. He had no idea what the two had bickered over, but it hadn’t gone well for Lucas. At least that meant Dustin still had a chance? He wasn’t quite sure why that thought felt forced.

 

“No one?” Billy’s gaze flickered up to his sisters over the other side of the car. Once more, Steve felt…off by the tone.

 

“Just a kid from my class.” Max quipped in response, her gaze flicking back to Lucas’ retreating form. Steve watched Billy’s eyes follow his sister’s moments later, pausing and watching the younger boy as Max got into the car.

 

Steve couldn’t hear anything else whilst the pair were in the car, but moments after Billy lit a cigarette, the sibling’s argument turned heated, and Billy’s hand grabbed Max’s wrist tightly, his light blue eyes turning sharp as they focused on her. Steve flinched, his protective instinct flaring up, before realising he’d look like a weirdo for watching the pair in the car so long, and paused helplessly. Billy pulled Max closer as Dustin walked up, bike at his side.

 

“You alright?” Dustin asked, causing Steve to noticeably jump. When he turned around the Camaro was squealing out of the carpark.

 

“Fine.” He muttered in response. But the dark look in Billy’s eyes as he stared at his step-sister sat stirring in his mind long after he pulled out of the high school carpark.

 

Steve was beginning to understand why Max held her skateboard so close.

 

--

 

Steve couldn’t help but think of Max when he faced up against Billy on the basketball court again the next day. He wondered if Billy had caused bruises, and the thought made him want to shove the taller boy to the ground and hit him in his smug face.

 

“King Steve, King Steve, everyone!” Billy was in his element and Steve wasn’t having it. He knew he was falling for it, but he still leant into every shove, letting himself be rough even if he didn’t rise to the verbal barbs.

 

“I like it.” Billy told him lowly. “Playing tough today.” All Steve could see is hard blue eyes meeting Max’s wider ones and he saw red.

 

“Jesus! Do you ever stop talking? Come on!” Billy merely laughed at him. “What?” Steve asked, frustrated by Billy’s bipolar behaviour.

 

“You afraid the coach is gonna bench you now that I’m here? Huh?” No. Steve couldn’t give a shit about basketball. He could give a shit about why a fifteen-year-old seemed to use a skateboard like shield. He thought of Dustin and Will and how the boys often faced bullies. He couldn’t wail on freshman, but he could hit Billy if he really wanted to.

 

With this thought in mind, it was even more humiliating when he found himself on the ground a moment later. Steve groaned, back hitting the court floor hard. Billy was more modest in his post-scoring display this practice, instead wishing to bask in his victory over Steve.

 

“You were moving your feet.” He told Steve, who is surprised when a hand is offered to him. He grabbed it, feeling how tense Billy’s grip is. He pulled Steve towards him. “Plant them next time, draw a charge.” With that Steve is on the floor once more, Billy stepping over him like he is a piece of trash.

 

Steve decided in that moment he hated Billy Hargrove.

 

--

Plenty of bitches in the sea.

 

I’ll be sure to leave you some.

 

Steve wasn’t quite sure why he thought of Billy’s final taunt in the locker rooms more than once in the next few days. It stuck out to him, a red flag of some kind.

 

It wasn’t like Billy didn’t get around, he’d seen far too many of his female classmates swoon over the new guy and whisper about his abilities for it to all be hearsay.

 

But there was an edge, something that lingered just beyond that sentence that chewed away at Steve’s subconscious. Like pieces to a puzzle that he couldn’t quite put together yet as he didn’t have the full image on the box.

 

The words slowly fade away, lost in the mess that is his own love life, and the crap that Dustin always manages to drag him into. Once again, all the insane shit of the Upside-down and Dustin managing to adopt a fucking demidog make the idea of some random redhead and her psychotic brother’s home life pale in comparison.

 

“All right, let me get this straight.” Steve is tempted to pinch the bridge of his nose as he regards Dustin. “You kept something you knew was probably dangerous, in order to impress a girl…who you just met?”


“All right, that’s grossly oversimplifying things.” Dustin has the forethought to be put out by Steve’s summary of the conversation, meaning he isn’t a complete lost cause. Yet the fact they were wearing kitchen gloves and scattering raw meat everywhere begged Steve to think that perhaps Dustin needed someone to sit him down and straighten him out. He wasn’t sure if he was the best candidate, his own romantic record was terrible.

 

“I mean, why would a girl like some nasty slug anyway?” Steve pointed out to Dustin.

 

“An interdimensional slug? Because it’s awesome.” It was times like this that Steve remembered how young Dustin was.

 

“Well, even if she thought it was which she didn’t.” Steve was quick to point this out, in case Dustin got anymore smart ideas. “I don’t know. I just feel like you’re trying too hard.”

 

You’re bullshit. Nancy’s words echoed in his head again.

 

“Well, not everyone can have your perfect hair, all right?” Dustin is sardonic and Steve winces. His hair definitely didn’t help with Nancy, and based on how Max glared at her own step-brother, Steve figured hair wasn’t exactly on the top of Max’s prospective good qualities list either.

 

“It’s not about the hair, man.” Steve sighed. “The key with girls is just…just acting like you don’t care.”  

 

Steve had tried every tactic. Back when he’d been simply yet another douche, he’d had no issues getting dates, and was always the one to end things first. With Nancy he’d tried…really tried, and all he got was bullshit.

 

“Even if you do?” Dustin asked.

 

“Yeah, exactly. It drives them nuts.” Steve thought of Carol and the other girls, trailing after Billy who was quickly racking up a body count to challenge his own.

 

Perhaps he had shit advice. But based on his own experience, he couldn’t deny that when he didn’t care, he’d had way less problems with ladies.

 

--

 

Something about Max Mayfield’s stare made Steve uncomfortable. He flicked his lighter open and shut, watching as the flame appeared and disappeared at will. He could feel her watching him, but said nothing.

 

What could he say?

 

Hey, I think your bother is a bit more than a standard dickhead, are you okay?

 

Or.

 

Hey, this is probably something pretty dangerous and a fifteen-year-old girl shouldn’t be out here, where the fuck are your parents?

 

Not sure either opener would go down very well.

 

“So you really fought one of these things before?” Max asked, and Steve looked over her. Her arms were folded, but her stare hesitantly curious. He could tell she wanted to believe but every instinct in her was saying otherwise. Steve could understand the sentiment. He nodded in her direction. “And you’re like, totally, 100% sure it wasn’t a bear?”

 

“Shit. Don’t be an idiot. Okay?” Dustin sounded annoyed and Steve held back a wince. “It wasn’t a bear.” He shook his head. “Why are you even here if you don’t believe us? Just go home.”

 

Max looked hurt and rose to her feet. “Geesh. Someone’s cranky. Past your bedtime?” Max is sullen, and Steve is hit by a déjà vu, almost seeing her step-brother in the tone of her voice. She was clearly one to adapt any defence mechanism she could. She glared at both of them before climbing the ladder to the top of the bus.

 

“That’s good. Just show her you don’t care.” Steve told Dustin.

 

“I don’t.” Steve had heard that one before. He had been that guy before. He merely grinned and winked.


“Why are you winking, Steve? Stop.” Dustin turned away before Steve could see too much of his red cheeks. Steve continued to sit under the ladder, still waiting for time to go by and Dart to appear. Dustin moved further into the bus, away from the ladder and couldn’t hear the conversation above them.

 

But Steve could.

 

“And things…. are just worse now.” Steve clicked his lighter close, frowning at the sound of Max’s voice that drifted through the open hole. “My stepbrother’s always been a dick, but now he’s just angry…all the time and…well he can’t take it out on my Mum so…” Max trailed off and Steve bit the inside of his cheek so hard he thought he tasted blood.

 

He thought of Billy’s hand on Max’s wrist in the carpark, of the way his eyes shone in the locker room. There’s plenty of bitches in the sea. I’ll be sure to leave you some. There was something, something that just wouldn’t click.

 

“So, he takes it out on you?” Lucas was more perceptive than Steve perhaps gave him credit for.

 

So, he takes it out on you?

 

Another piece fell into place.

 

--

Steve wasn’t sure what he’d expected for the rest of his already eventful night, but Billy Hargrove turning up at the Byer’s house was far from his demidog bingo card. Max’s eyes bugged at the sound of the engine, clearly knowing it without sight.

 

“It’s my brother.” She said, peaking out the window to confirm her suspicions. “He can’t know I’m here. He’ll kill me.” She paused after this looking back at them, at Steve. “He’ll kill us.”

 

Steve’s gut sank and he knew what he had to do. He stepped out of the house before any of the freshman could make their presence known.

 

“Am I dreaming, or is that you, Harrington?” Billy, though sarcastic, seemed thrilled by the turn of events. He clearly hadn’t planned on Steve being there when he confronted Max and her friends. Why he was thrilled by this unexpected outcome, Steve had no idea.

 

“Yeah, it’s me. Don’t cream your pants.” He can’t help but be sardonic.

 

“What are you doing here, amigo?” Billy’s tone is almost teasing.

 

“I could ask you the same question. Amigo.” Steve hated the way the word tasted on his tongue, feeling the threat of Billy’s question in the mocking title.

 

“I’m looking for my stepsister.” Steve can feel the stares of the boys and Max from the house, and willed himself to not turn around and motion them to get the fuck away from the windows. “A little bird told me she was here.” Steve glared as Billy’s tongue ran over the seam of his lips.

 

“Huh, that’s weird. I don’t know her.” He can’t tell Billy that the very same step-sister he sought out had been playing puppeteer with his head for a longer than he’d like to admit, creeping on the edges of his thoughts. He may be depressed over losing Nancy, but he didn’t have a death wish.

 

“Small? Redhead? Bit of a bitch?” Steve flinched at the derogatory term, and how it almost sounds endearing coming from Billy.

 

“The whole situation, I don’t know, Harrington …. It’s giving me the heebie-jeebies.” Steve can feel his gut turning to stone.

 

He knows.

 

He knows.

Steve felt dirty in that moment, the puzzle slotting together a little too smoothly. It was still missing edges, the picture looking a little wrong, but he could fathom one thing. He only noticed Billy’s mistreatment of Max because he noticed Max.

 

She was fifteen.

 

Nancy was right.

 

He was bullshit.

 

“Yeah? How’s that?” He willed himself to remain calm. Billy may be chaotic, but he wouldn’t necessarily make the jump that Steve had. He couldn’t know how much Steve found his eyes wandering around the carpark in search of red hair, and how easily the conversation with Dustin and Lucas would slowly drift towards talking about her, just so Steve could get his own fix like a disgusting creep. He’d told himself it was because he was worried about her mistreatment by Billy. But it was more than that, always more than that.

 

“My fifteen-year-old sister is missing all day. Then I find her with you, at a stranger’s house…and – you lie to my face about it.” Steve doesn’t quite hide the heavy swallow he makes at Billy’s words.

 

“Dude. Were you dropped too much as a child or what?” Steve never claimed to not be a hypocrite. “I don’t know what you don’t understand about what I said: she’s not here.”

 

I can feel her eyes on my neck, burning a hole as we speak. He doesn’t say it, but he thinks Billy reads it loud and clear in his eyes, by the way they almost light up at his denial.

 

Billy sniffs dramatically and lean in. All Steve can smell is cologne and cigarettes. “Yeah, okay. Then who is that?” He points to the doorway and Steve’s eyes follow his. Max stands there in the doorway, wide eyes staring back at them.

 

Fuck.

 

“Listen man – I can exp-.” The ground is harder than he expected it to be, the lack of rain that Autumn making the ground feel like stone instead of soil. He can hear the door swing open and wills Max to stay on the porch, as though like a monster under the bed, she can’t be swiped if she doesn’t look beneath.

 

“I told you to plant your feet.” Steve can feel bile up his throat from the pressure of Billy’s foot on his stomach, tries to not throw up.

 

Maxine.” Steve flinched in pain, and how the tone sounds on his ears. Mocking delight. He used that tone many times in the past, when he found someone at school who’d be perfect to knock down a peg, the thrill of being a hunter and not the prey.  “Fancy seeing you here.” He looked down at Steve. “Perhaps you could teach your friend a little something about lying. You’re usually a lot better at it than he appears to be.”

 

He knows.

 

“Billy.” Max’s voice is pleading and it's almost as if Billy acts on instinct at the sound of it, pressing his shoe into Steve’s gut even further, and Steve feels his throat burn at the effort of holding down bile and retain some of the air that Billy was trying to force out of his lungs. He almost coughs when Billy’s weight suddenly leaves his form and is embarrassed at how heavily he breathes. He’s trying to regain his bearings, wondering how things went from bad to worse so quickly.

 

Little sister.” The word sounds like a slur to Steve.

 

“Why are you here Billy?”

 

“You left without saying goodbye. Neil and Susan wanted to know where you were.” Steve sees Billy bring the cigarette he’d been nursing since getting out of the car up to his pink lips. “House was a little too quiet without you.”

 

Steve can almost hear the insinuation in his tone and his mind goes blank. The final piece is right there in his hand, he’s not sure if he wants to put it in place. Not yet.

 

“I’m going to be back later. Like every weekend.” Max tells her step-brother, brushing over the innuendo of Billy’s words. “Go home.” Steve sat up and watched the two step-siblings.

 

“I thought I told you to stay away from him.”

 

What?

 

Steve had never considered that in the time he’d been watching Max, she may have been aware of him. He could almost see Dustin pointing at his hair as if triumphant in his discovery.

 

“Billy, go away.”

 

“You disobeyed me. And you know what happens when you disobey me.”  

 

“Billy!” She exclaimed. Steve knew he had to act. He could see in his minds-eye how Billy’s hand had wrapped around Max’s wrist so easily.

 

“I break things.” He growled. Steve doesn’t have time to process anything before his body is against the cold passenger door of the Camaro.

 

“LET HIM GO!” Max’s scream is almost drowned out by the door swinging open, the other boys running out to join the fray.

 

“HEY! GET OFF HIM!” Mike and Dustin call out.

 

Billy’s eyes are manic as he leans towards Steve, seething expression on his lips. “Since Maxine won’t listen to me, maybe you will. You stay away from her. STAY AWAY FROM HER. You hear me?”

 

He thinks back to the day he broke Jonathan’s camera in Junior year, spray paint on buildings.

Starring Nancy The Slut Wheeler.

 

Jealousy twisted Billy Hargrove’s appealing face into something monstrous. The puzzle was complete and all Steve could feel was shame.

 

He was as bad as the very guy he wanted to beat bloody.

 

Didn’t it always come down to what we can’t have?

 

Steve looks over at Max, and sees her wide eyes. She’s scared and he’s not a hundred percent sure who she’s scared for. It would be easy to say she gave a shit if Billy bashed his face in, but Steve knows she’d be foolish to do so. He’s as bad as Billy.

 

He turns back towards the older step-sibling, anger and shame boiling up in him and it almost feels like vindication when he slammed his fist into Billy’s face. Billy stumbled back, looking surprised as Steve’s knuckles burn in the aftermath. Billy moves a hand up to his face, wiping blood away. He looks at Steve almost in a bewildered manner. Perhaps in some twisted way, he was impressed. It made Steve feel worse instead of better. He wanted the other man to feel the pain he had seen on Max’s face, the guilt he felt when he confronted what was buried deep inside his own head.

 

“You got some fire in you after all, huh? I’ve been waiting to meet this ‘King Steve’ they tell me so much about.”

 

“Go home.” Steve told him, not wanting to address every silent battle between them.

 

Billy merely laughs and rubs at the blood, smearing it across his cheek. Steve can see his eyes linger in Max’s direction for a split second before he suddenly swings right back at Steve, putting his full force into the hit. Steve may not be the best on the court, but he knows when to duck out the way, and successfully evades the hit.

 

Steve punched Billy, landing where Billy had missed.

 

One.

 

Two.

 

Three.

 

Why wouldn’t the bastard just go down?

 

Most would be on the ground. But not Billy. He’s unsteady on his feet but still standing, even managing to hit Steve back. Steve is disorientated, the hit having rattled his head and made everything cloudy.

 

“BILLY STOP!” Max exclaimed.  The other voices blend together in a symphony of hysteria. Billy grabs Steve’s jacket and leans in close. Steve can’t help but groan.

 

No one tells me what to do.

 

One.

 

Steve’s back on the hard dirt.

 

Two.

 

Billy’s weight is on him, anchoring his consciousness to the violence whilst the rest of the world blurs around him.

 

Three.

 

Four.

 

Steve isn’t sure what happens next, but Billy is gone and he can do nothing but stare up at the stars. They were moving about erratically, blurring in a indescribable pattern.

 

“From here on out – you’re going to leave me and my friends alone – do you understand?” He can hear Max, a lighthouse in a particularly nasty storm.

 

“SAY YOU UNDERSTAND!” She shrieked. The voices meld together, and Steve tries to raise a hand to his head in an effort to stop the throbbing.

 

Suddenly Max’s blurry face is all he can see as she kneels over his side. “M-Max.” His voice is cracking, and he winces at the pain it takes to speak.

 

I’m sorry.

 

He isn’t sure what he wants to apologise for first.

 

I’m sorry about what he does to you.

 

I’m sorry if I’m reading too much into it, if I see his hands on you in different way because I can’t imagine anyone wanting to do so in violence.

 

Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I’m right. Maybe I’m a little in between.

 

I’m sorry if I look at you too long.

 

I’m sorry that I’m as bad as him. I know that now.

 

“Shhh.” Then she’s gone and the world goes dark.

 

I’m sorry Max.

 

--

 

Barbara Holland would probably smack him across the face if she was still alive to witness what a mess he’d made of his life. He’d lost Nancy to Jonathan, could see it when their hands tentatively wrapped in each other’s as they left the cemetery. Instead, he couldn’t stop himself looking at a freshman, like some lecher that they warn you about in health class.

 

Nearly three years feels like a canyon of difference when he looks at Dustin and the other boys.

 

When he looks at Max? It doesn’t feel so succinctly different.

 

Perhaps it's the knowledge that Max can see beyond the naivety that comes with growing up in a small town. She’s experienced, both in the big city and in what lingered below the fake smiles and pleasantries. There’s a different flash in Max’s eyes than he’d seen in Nancy’s back when he held her close. Whereas Nancy had been inexperienced, but excited by the concept of learning, Max was a jaded student, who had learnt too much. He wanted to bring a light back into her eyes, to know that it was okay to open up, physically and emotionally.

 

When he sees her boarding down the street he stops before he thinks too hard about it. If Hawkins had taught him anything, life was too short to think too hard about what he wanted. Even when he seized it, it could be gone so quickly.

 

Bullshit.

 

She gets in the car without a word, the board going into the backseat. He feels hope when he acknowledges she doesn’t need her shield. Not with him.

 

“Where do you want to go?” He asked her as they pulled back out onto the mostly empty road.

 

“Take me home, please.” He feels his gut sink at her words. He would do it, even if he saw a blue Camaro in the driveway. He doesn’t want to acknowledge what that request would mean. He almost jumps when he feels her hand on his arm.

 

“To your home.”

 

Hope blooms in his heart, betraying what he truly wants to do.

 

He should take her to the arcade, somewhere away from Billy, from him.

 

Instead, he takes her to his bed, and learns she tasted like he imagined she would that night after she drove his car like a madman. It’s sweet, with a bitter edge, like at any moment the strawberry sweetness that lingered on her skin could turn from almond to complete cyanide and poison him.

 

He doesn’t acknowledge the scars.

 

He doesn’t acknowledge Dustin or Lucas.

 

He doesn’t acknowledge Billy.

 

He takes because he shouldn’t care.

 

Things were easier when he didn’t care.

 

But deep down, he still does care. Especially when she sleeps soundly on his chest, her face relaxed and lashes fluttering. The nail encrusted bat sits in the corner of his room as both a weapon and a trophy.

 

He can only think of one of those droning quotes that the minister used to preach when his parents tried to give a crap and dragged him to church.

 

There is no victory without sacrifice.

 

He’d thrown the puzzle in the bin, and flipped the table in the process.

 

That shit was for children anyway.

 

--

 

 

 

 

 

 



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