Disclaimer: I do not own South Park or any of it's original characters.
Author's Note: You don't really have to read this one. It's only a background story for my OC. You can read it if you want , but if you get bored of it just go directly to chapter 1
The endless flakes of winter rained down on the quiet cemetery where no one showed up to the grave of Linda Mysan. A mother and a helpful hand, which always seemed to be there for others in their time of need, but couldn't find a single friend that would care enough to go to her burial. The loving ten year old son, frowning in grief of his and his father's lost, laid a kiss to his hand and transferred it to his mother's grave. And his father, shedding soundless tears, placed small assuring pats on the back of his motherless child. One that day it seemed as if a snow storm was just starting in the distance, everyone else but them knew.
It has been six years since that depressing time. Max Mysan grew up fast. As tall as his dad, but then again most boys his age was as tall as him. He grew up with a friendless past, and is growing lonelier and lonelier every passing day. Now it has come to just trying to survive through the day without being noticed. And that weeping father who placed such assuring pats now bruises him with fists. Everyday Max has to wake up to bruises on most of his body, bandaging them up, and heading to school just to spend some time away from all the hurt and bad memories home has, just to wallow in loneliness at school, catching looks by all of his peers.
Today he came in to school with a bandaged right eye; the usual bandages around his neck and right arm; and random Band-Aids patterned on his hands and fingers. A jet black, haggard jacket to hide the bandages that were wrapped around his torso, and black jeans that seemed a bit too loose around the hip.
Now-a-days he just pushes himself along, trying not to cause any trouble. Everyone seems to look down on him now. There was once a time when everyone at school feared him. Even the mention of his name would send rattling shivers down the spines of children both older and younger. Now he's a wimp. Some think he's playing on an act, sensing that he truly hasn't changed, but now-
"Oof!" The sound escaped Max's lips as he was tripped in the middle of the hallway, making his way to sixth period.
Students in the hallway that had witnessed him tripping now laugh at him, other chuckling, some restraining their laughter, and a few laughing louder than most.
Max stumbled to his feet, finding it hard to get back up under the force of everyone's laughter.
Please. I just want to get to sixth period. Max pleaded in his mind. He ignored the laughter as best as he could.
Taking a seat in his history class, Max let out a sigh, too quiet it couldn't be heard but to himself. He sat in the second row from the door, in the third seat from the front. He laid out his text book and note book on his desk. Scattering a pencil and an eraser on the desk to make it look as if he were taking down notes. He folded his arms over his educational pile and laid his head down. Falling asleep in under five minutes.