Chapter Text
A puff of addictive air is blown into the wintry breeze. Max sighs as he throws his cigarette butt on the ground and stomps it out, not caring to pick it back up as he continues to stalk down the pavement.
Max was 15. No, that’s not right, 16. Today was the sophomore’s Sweet 16, though “sweet” isn’t the word he’d typically use to describe birthdays, or any holidays for that matter. His parents always made sure to throw the biggest parties, but not for him. They did it to try and prove to the other snobby, rich families that they were the fanciest, but for Max, all he wanted on his birthday was to be alone. He hated birthdays. Sure, he hated everyday, but birthdays- birthdays just meant exploiting him and wearing extra itchy birthday suits and ties.
He feels dread wash over him as he looks up for the first time in several blocks, finding his parent’s three-story house was not too far away now. Will I have time for another cigarette? He ponders as he glares at the practical mansion he’s lived in for the last 16 years of his life, fidgeting with his cigarette box in his left jacket pocket. Suddenly, his phone began to ring in his right. Max felt his heartbeat increase- it must be his parents. He wasn’t allowed to have any other contacts, anyway. He gulped as he slowly dragged out his phone, seeing “Veshya” , his mothers name. He took a quick moment to compose himself and accepted the call, picking up his steps anxiously as he put the phone to his ear. He didn’t speak- he knew better than to speak when not spoken to.
“Maximus, where are you? Aye, your party starts in three hours. I will not! Have you looking like a slob in front of all our guests today! Annie needs to start your prepping immediately.” Max could hear the frustration in her voice, causing him to go from speed walking into a bit of a slow run. Max tried not to let any of his anxiety seep into his words as he spoke, “I’m sorry, Mother. I’m almost there.” It takes a while to walk three fucking miles to school and back, he thinks to himself, annoyed. “If you’re not here in ten minutes, you can forget any sort of present this year.” Veshya threatened, but Max wasn’t truly phased by it. Not like there’s been any for the last 7 years. The last time he received a birthday gift, it was a brown bear gifted to him by his elementary school teacher. He loved Mr. HoneyNuts dearly. But, Max hadn’t seen that bear since.. Camp Campbell. He cried plenty realizing he’d left something so dear to him at the camp, which he was punished to never return to.
“I understand.” Max answered to the stranger.
“Who?”
“I understand, Mother.”
The moment Veshya hung up, Max swore under his breath and ran, ran until he was out of breath and saw their pristine welcome mat before him,
“BHRASHT ESTATE.”
*****
Max stood uncomfortably as sensations overwhelmed him all over. The heat of his gloves, the scratch of the suit seams against his shoulders, the people. The people. He felt backed into a corner. He was used to his parents' little balls at this point. But birthdays always meant family, too. Now instead of just the Bhrasht’s, it was plenty of Max’s extended family, some also rich, some coming along just to mooch off their loaded relatives. Plus, it was his sixteenth, after all. Apparently a big deal. Yet, nobody seemed to notice the birthday boy as he awkwardly stood in the corner with his untouched cup of fruit punch.
Max made himself invisible, blending in with the other partygoers, occasionally talking to a guest or being more social when commanded by his parents. Every once in a while, they whispered their demands to him, “Don’t mumble, Maximus. Be polite.” “A smile wouldn’t kill you. Don’t keep a stick up your ass.”
Eventually, the party drained out. Slowly but surely, party favors were taken, thanks were given, and the maids came out to clean up all the mess. Max stood solemnly by a leather couch, waiting for.. The authority figures to tell him he can go up to his room already and fuck off until he has to go to school the next day. He was tired. He was sweaty and irritable. But, that never happened. Instead, his parents stood in front of him, and Max tried not to appear intimidated as he waited for something. Anything.
Veshya began, “Max, Putra.” Don’t call me “son”. “You know we were able to get you your license early.”
Oh, great. A car. Maybe he could steal it and get the hell out of here, if he could find the tracker they put on it.
Foreseeing this wouldn’t take short enough, Matlabi, Max’s male authority figure, cut in. “We’re giving you the old Jeep. Not all, though,” Max’s “father” crossed his arms. “You’re moving out. We’ve decided you’re a dead weight here. You were a cute kid then, enough to make the damned Smiths fawn. And now you’ve grown. You’re just a hassle. We don’t want to take care of you anymore.”
And that was basically his way of saying Max was just another art piece in their endless gallery, and like he didn’t matter, they were kicking him away like a little lost puppy. Max accepted a long time ago that he didn't matter to them. That he just didn’t matter. Max was mostly numb to the words- possibly due to exhaustion, or maybe the fact he’s seen this coming for a while. As a young boy, likely 10 or so, he feared the possibility of being kicked out onto the cold, cruel streets. But nowadays, he sometimes fantasized about it. Now the time has come, and he feels nothing.
“Okay.”
“Go pack a bag. Bring back your suit, we want to resell that. We’ve already taken most things from your room we want to keep.” Max felt a heaviness behind his eyes as he slowly came back to reality, dissociation dissipating. “Everything else, take it. We never wanted all of that.”
“Okay.”
“It's preferred that you don't contact us again. Do I make myself clear, Maximus?”
“Yes, Matlabi. I’ll go pack my bags.”
Matlabi nodded, his expression has remained unchanging throughout the entire interaction. It was painfully evident how little he cared. The thought made tears threaten to fall. Couldn’t those tears wait until he was high just like every night?
But no, this wasn’t like “every night”.
“You're excused. Be out in 30 minutes.”
Max nodded, ushering past them towards the spiral staircase leading to his room just as hot saltwater streamed down his abused cheek. “And Maximus?” He paused.
“Don’t come back.”
*****
His eyes scanned the brochure over and over again. His consistently-flowing tears caused the words to blur and unblur and he read the words, surreal to him.
“Camp Campbell: Campe Diem!”
Camp Campbell.
Camp Campbell.
Memories overwhelmed him more and more as he stared at the pamphlet, ignoring the clock
tick, tick, ticking
, reminding him he's on a time limit. Tears hit the words as he read them over, and over, and over.
The last time he ever really felt safe.
The last time he had a friend.
He kneeled over his duffle bag, barely filled as his wardrobe and belongings were left pretty scarce after his parent’s raid. He sat now in a black and blue zipped-up jacket, wearing a baby blue sweater underneath with jeans a little too big for him and the same undersized shoes he's had since he was 10. He was lucky he was a rather small boy, standing at 5’1, So he was able to fit into them. But, it didn't make the size 7 shoes rather agonizing.
He wore the same ones at this camp.
Max stared at the old, worn paper for far too long. He’d have to leave in just 10 minutes. He was overwhelmed with thoughts of those campers, of Neil, Nikki, even Dolph, the freak he was. Even David. Fucking David. David, David, David.. David.. The only adult who was ever able to see something was wrong. Who ever tried to help. Who didn’t call him silly. Who didn’t call him an idiot, a troublemaker, a little shit. Max choked.
David.
The reason he couldn’t go back.
“You little shit!” Max’s poor body was smashed against the tile floors of his bedroom. He wailed out in pain as he shielded himself, curling into a fetal position. “Going around telling people we don’t give a shit! We clothe you! We feed you! A kid would kill their fucking family to be in the position you’re in!”
Max sobbed, all the words going in one ear out the other.
“Is that not enough anymore? Do you need us to hand feed you? To kiss your ass maybe?” Max’s whole body shook as he sobbed, his arm wobbling as he tried to lift his body off the cold, cold floor. Cold floor. Cold hands. Hot tears.
Before he could recover, he was met with another clean slap across the face.
“Answer me, boy! Are we enough for you, or are you going to keep bitching about us being “bad parents” to that stupid twink?” Max barely heard him. His ears were ringing. The world was spinning too fast. Too fast. Everything is too fast.
Max nodded yes, hoping it’ll make his papi stop.
“Yes what?”
Max forced the words out of his hoarse throat. They came out broken and warbled, as if he was speaking underwater. “Y-Yes sir! It’s enough!” He cried out from between his knees, head down as he wailed into his arms.
For a moment, there was silence.
For minutes it seemed, it was just Matlabi, Max, and unstoppable tears.
Matlabi inhaled sharply, and exhaled. He shook his head as he watched his pathetic excuse for a son curled up, face bloodied from the blows, and plenty of hits sure to bruise by morning. He got down on one knee. “Look at me, Maximus.” He did as he was told, looking up with blood and sweat making its way down his forehead and red, puffy eyes.
“Next summer, you will stay here. If I ever, ever hear again you’re saying lies, this will happen again. Do you understand me?”
Max sniffled. He struggled to find his voice. He wiped his tears on his hoodie, catching blood on it as well in the process. “I u-understand, Pa-Papi.”
“It’s “sir” and “Matlabi”, Maximus.”
“Yes, sir. I Understand, M-Matlabi.”
David told Matlabi all about his concerns. I mean, parents were supposed to be good! Certainly, oh certainly, there must have been a misunderstanding. David could express his concerns and everything would be okay, because Matlabi would say “I'm so sorry we missed parents day, we love Max, because everyone loves Max! In fact, we're going to go out for ice cream and go to the park, just like a normal nuclear family does!” But no, they weren’t a normal nuclear family, and no, nothing was okay. Not everything is so fucking perfect. Max got beat over this. Max got beat because of David. The thought made Max choke on his tears, rage boiling in his chest. “David,” Max grumbled, or whimpered. He wasn’t sure himself. Was it out of blind rage, or in desperation to have the only person who ever cared for him so tenderly back in his life?
Max took a deep, albeit shaky, breath, and in a quick deciding moment, stuffed the pamphlet into his duffle bag. He quickly shoved other clothes and items into his bag, and grabbed his hidden weed and cigarette deposits. Too bad his dealer just lost one hell of a well-paying customer- Max would never be able to find him again. It didn’t take long for Max to finish shoving clothes into his duffle. He sniffled as he zipped his bag and stood up, slinging it over one shoulder, and stalking into the doorway. He paused.
“..Good riddance.”
He shut the door and began to step down the spiral stairs. His parents were nowhere in sight. Typical. The only presence was one of the maids, Julian, who did not acknowledge him. It was specially requested of Mr and Mrs. Bhrasht for the maids to not speak unless spoken to. Max hated it, because it meant he'd always get in trouble for talking to these people. They were like tired spirits roaming his house.
Hm, his house. Well, not anymore. And really, never was.
He sighed as he grabbed his headphones, plugging them into his iPod that he stole from a kid in 8th grade. He’s been able to keep the device under their radar ever since. He scrolled down and hit play on the first song that showed up: “Killing in the Name - Rage Against the Machine”
The familiar tune all of a sudden got his body going with adrenaline the way it did every night, though somehow different. He listened to the electric guitar and the distorted melody it played, letting the feeling take him.
“Killing in the name of!”
Suddenly feeling adrenaline in his blood, he strode up to the door. He hesitated. “Goodbye, Julian. Sorry you got stuck working for hags.”
The confused lady turned around just as the tan boy walked out of the front doors, never to be seen in that hell on earth again.
Max walked his way to the car he was gifted freedom in today. His steps turned into stomps as he got into the edgy song, and once he reached it, he stuck his hand into his jean pocket. He pulled out a singular brass key, and stared at it for a moment. He stared. And stared. He was free. His parents couldn’t mess with him anymore. They couldn’t present them like a trophy, “We had sex and this is what we made!” They had nothing on him anymore
They can’t control him anymore. He gets an idea.
“Fuck you, I won’t do what you tell me!”
“Fuck you, I won’t do what you tell me!”
“Fuck you, I won’t do what you tell me!”
Max drags his brass key all over the beautiful, crisp paint of his parent’s prized cars. He breaks a window with his elbow. Or two. Alright, he broke a lot of them. Hey, its not like the repairs will make a single fucking dent in their billion-dollar bank balance.
It was truly satisfying to see his parent’s shit ruined, though.
For a final touch, Max turned towards the pond in front of their house. He runs towards it, and in an instant, he’s holding his arm as far back as it can go and sending a bullet through their window with a crash!
With that, Max jumps in his new car, and the engine sputters to life. He pulls out insanely fast, not wanting to stick around to see how his handiwork turns out. Max lets out a mean cackle as he speeds up, his best self shining through. 20, 30, 50, 60. In a 30 lane.
Max unplugs his headphones swiftly and lets his music blare freely. A new song played now, “Red Minivan - Mike Krol”
“ Come on down to the spot where you know you can find me.”
“I left the house and I took the key. I'll drive my mom's red minivan.”
“Driving down the hill, yeah we're picking up speed.”
“Just hit the brakes, I've never felt so free!”
“Cut the wheel, accelerate.”
Max practically screamed the words along with Krol, enthusiastically punching at the steering wheel as adrenaline overtook his body. I know you’re gonna break my heart again, “I know you're gonna Break! My! Heart! Again!” I know you’re gonna tear it all apart again.
“I know you’re gonna tear it all apart again!” Max felt his heartbeat accelerate. His voice cracked, his face heated. Was he crying? This time will be different than the last. “This time will be different than the last!”
Max lived in isolation. He's never had neighbors. He didn't worry about running into anybody, at least not yet. He didn't feel bad about screaming.
Suddenly, he realized something. Where was he gonna go? He had a fat $150,000 in his bank account, which should certainly support him for a long time. But he was sixteen. He wouldn’t be able to get an apartment. He could pay some dude a thousand to stay for a few weeks. Maybe he could build a hut in the woods. Max realized he was approaching society soon. He slowed to a 15, and pulled into a space off to the side, and parked. He needed to figure out what to do. Max mumbled the song now playing as he lowered the volume, rubbing his temple. He doesn’t know how to live alone. He’s been treated like a king by his housemaids and workers his whole life. He didn’t know how to fucking cook. His mom always insisted he’d only burn his luxurious skin, like the idiot he was. The closest thing to cooking he's done was roasting marshmallows and making smores.
Smores. Campfires. His camp.
A lightbulb bursts to life in his brain.
In an instant, he’s typing “Camp Campbell” into his iPhone’s GPS. It may be winter, but he didn’t care. A light flurry began to fall from the night sky. His phone began its automated directions. “Turn right onto Viper avenue.” He wasn’t going there to see anyone, anyways. He just needed a hint of anything to make him feel the way he did back then. Jesus christ, anything to bring back that shithole. The last thing that made him happy.
Max fished around his pocket for his lighter and a blunt, swiftly lighting it and stuffing it in his mouth, taking a fat hit. He rolled down his window, blowing out the cannabis cloud into the winter frenzy. Tiny snowflakes grazed Max’s tanned, scarred face. Max smiled, genuinely. He was doing something he wanted for a change. Something he needed. Something he needed for so long.
He quickly unzipped and dug a hand into his duffle bag, searching around for the pamphlet he took earlier. He opened it and before getting a chance to look inside, something fell out.
A picture. Of the Order of the Sparrow event. Max felt a tear begin to form. He actually looked happy in the picture. Max put it above the headboard. Wedging it in place to be displayed in his car forever. Deciding to look later, he shoved the pamphlet into his cup holder to look deeper into later. For now, he was on a road to freedom.
Also, he should get the fuck out of here before his parents try and get him for the window.
He stepped on the gas, lurching forward and making a sharp turn out of his hidey hole. He sped onto Viper, following whatever orders the phone told him. Saying goodbye to one hell and crawling back to another.
The beginning of what Max hoped to be, a better life. He cried for the third time that night.