Max.

Let me tell you a story about this young man named Max. My name is Al and I was Max’s best friend growing up. Max is fueled by hatred, he was a child that never had a chance to make it in this world. He had a bad upbringing, his mom died at birth so his dead beat father took care of him if you want to call it that. His father was the meanest man I’ve ever met in my life. Randle was his name, he would punish Max for just about anything, and he used to beat him until he would almost lose consciousness. This one time, Max was outside playing with some of the neighbor kids on his block, and then Randle came home and must’ve thought that he was having too much fun. He did his infamous whistle to call him back into the house and punched him in his stomach so hard he puked on the floor, and some of it got onto Randle’s shoe, so he beat him even more because of that.

I know what you’re thinking, why didn’t anyone help the poor kid? Well, that’s because his father’s brother was the chief of police, and they had the same temperament. Randle could do anything he wanted, the police wouldn’t even take any call that anyone would make, so the community just quit trying, they all just hoped that eventually, Max would either run away or that he would just die from one of the beatings to release him from the hell that was that house. I, unfortunately, was one of those people. I’ll never forget the look that was always stuck on his face, have you ever seen a young kid that looked like his dog just died? That’s how he always looked, and our town was so small, everyone knew his situation, but would just ignore him every chance they got, I don’t blame him for what he did I’m proud of the young man. I don’t know where he is now, but I do remember him telling me all the details of that faithful day.

At the age of 15, he received a beating for not putting a new trash bag in the wastebasket after he took it out. It was at that point Max had changed, he had changed into something horrible he was unrecognizable actually. While his father was cleaning himself up of Max’s blood, Max came up behind him and whacked him over the head with a bat. Now Randle was a very big man, so it dazed him, however, he did not fall over. He turned around to face Max, and that’s when Max hit him again, obliterating his nose and upper lip. He then grabbed a knife that was in the knife drawer and was preparing himself to use it. Randle then looked at Max and said “please don’t son, I love you and I’m sorry.” He must’ve looked so pathetic. Then, Max let out a hellish barbaric scream and plunged that knife right into his head, blood spurted out like a water fountain. Of course, at this point Randle was dead, however, Max wasn’t finished. He couldn’t pull the knife out on his own, so he placed his put on his dad's head and yanked the knife out, exposing his skull and brain in the process. He took the knife and thrust it down into his stomach 14 times, ripped and sawing at his flesh until he could reach his entrails. He gouged out his eyeballs and placed one of them in his father’s mouth, he never said what he did with the second one, I was a little afraid to ask to be honest with you. He continued to tell me that he sat there and just looked down at his father’s corpse for about 45 minutes. Seemingly frozen in time, he felt that he was able to get out of that hell that was his house. He left me with a phrase that still haunts me to this day. “And after all of that Al, I don’t feel like my work is finished. I’m going to go to another town, and rid this planet of the scum that walks it. You’re going to hear from me again, and I’m going to be famous or infamous I don’t care. Fuck this world and everybody in it. I’ll see you around.” He then ran off and I haven’t seen or heard from him since. I did however receive an unmarked postcard from a place called Idol Valley, so he may be there. Let this be a warning for those that live there, be careful what you say and do, Max is going to get you.