Of all that is written, I love only what a person has written with his own blood.
Nietzsche.

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Ever wonder how the monster was made and how? I have, I am fascinated with the how and why of Mac. How did he come to be who he is? I present to you my mind and an imagination that dreamed up a catalyst that may have helped turn him so to speak; if it was even one event, maybe it was a series of events. Maybe he was evil from childhood, did someone notice things and look the other way? Was he mentally ill? Did he know there was something wrong with him? Did he care? Could he love another person? Could someone love him? Nature versus Nurture? Was someone influencing him? Was it the drugs that made him do it? Maybe, but maybe not. Could he find redemption and if he could, would he want to? So many questions and then my mind went wandering. Thank you for reading

For MagentasNightmare.

First of all, thank you to the wonderful, talented, beautiful, bestest friend in the world Magentasnightmare for beta reading and holding my hand while I wrote this story (just like all the others, lol). At every turn, I was unsure if it was too much, too long, too deep, too something etc. and she encouraged me like I was paying her to, love you! I could never do this without her, nor would I ever want to. I sincerely hope everyone has a friend like her, she's the best (Also she's MINE so hands off lol, I'm like a jealous girlfriend). Thank you, sweetie, I could not do this without you, not one word would ever get written. This is not one of my short Mac stories where he finds some unsuspecting woman and makes her life hell for his own amusement and desires. This story has that, but it takes a little bit to get to it; a slow burn to murder and rape if you will. Not too slow though, a few chapters of background and then it's on :) But if you only want a short psycho from the jump Mac story, I have written three, all under ten chapters, but this one goes way deeper than those do. They can be found in the Down the Dark Road series, of which this story will also be included in. I am sorry for this horribly long author's note, but I wanted to explain the things I changed and the things I kept the same, and of course post some disclaimers. Remember, THIS IS A RED CANYON fiction and we all know who Mac is, and what he does, please don't read if this isn't your thing. In this story he's a young person, in the beginning, maybe innocent and maybe not. He will evolve as the story goes along to all his non-con, rapey goodness, but that's not the core of the story, but it is there, you can't really write Mac and not have it in my opinion. I also tend to write Mac as very seductive, it's just how I see him, let me know if you agree. When I re-read this I realized there's a lot of smut in this so if that's your thing, you're in the right place. Just all the Mac warnings apply, I think that covers it. Some chapters are short and some are way too long, that's just the way it all ended up. I couldn't break them up any other way without killing the flow of the story, but this is finished so updates will be frequent. This is over twenty-five chapters long, my longest Mac fiction, I hope you will let me know what you think :) Also, one more thing Mac's family tree is so convoluted and confusing; not to mention disturbing. It took me three times watching the movie and a little digging to figure it all out. I may have gotten some things wrong, but I hope you will forgive me. I left Devon and Regina out of this, I didn't want to get into the whole dynamic of their relationship, and so they are mentioned but don't actually appear. Walter is in this because, well, he's Walter. And I added some OC's cause that's what I do :) I also tag all my Mac fiction as "this is not a love story" but this one kind of is. As usual, there is a lot of music in this story, the songs I listened to while writing this, I know some people don't like that, and I'm sorry, but I sometimes can't do it any other way. If you only listen to one song that I reference in this mess let it be Lucy by Skillet. I heard the song on Thanksgiving 2017 and the rest is history. That's how it happens for me, I hear a song and boom! Story. This story took me months to write and I hope you will let me know what you think. Xoxox Krissy. Here's the entire playlist. us/playlist/mac-and-lucy/pl.u-6mo4EJZCBZpLq4l / Special thank you to the amazing maeinthecorner on tumblr for the excellent cover photo. You rock Mae.

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Hey, love, hey love, don't lie to me, tell me where did you sleep last night?"
In the Pines- Covered by Nirvana and many different artists

Requiem ~: a solemn chant (such as a dirge) for the repose of the dead.

/

It seemed like yesterday but it wasn't, he knew that. Sometimes the memory was so strong that he thought he was a young man again, but it was not so. It had not been so for a long time.

He was an older man now, with an older man's sensibilities, not the young hot head who thought he owned the world he once was. He found out the hard way that the world was not under his command and she was dead because of it; but still, he went to her grave every year on her birthday with pink roses, her favorite. Mac would do it until he was no longer able to, he owed her that much. He had always made a big thing of her birthday when she was alive, and he continued all his life; even if her life was over.

It was the summer of his 64th year and Lucy had been dead in the ground for over forty years. It was a long time now that she had been gone and yet he thought of her, every day. He missed her with an acute pain so desperate as if part of him was forever lost, an ache that would never go away, and maybe he didn't want it to, maybe he thought he deserved it.

His bones hurt some now too, the doctor said it was arthritis; soon he wouldn't be able to sit on the ground like he was now. But he would do it for as long as he could, he talked to her when he came to visit, and told her how much he missed her, no matter how much time passed; he still missed her.

Hell, sometimes he talked to her when he wasn't here at her grave, he could be at home, or in the truck and just start talking out loud as if she still sat next to him. She was the first person, besides himself that he loved and he loved her still.

"Te Amo," He whispered as he pushed the leaves off of the small stone that said Lucy Luanardi July 7th 1980- October 29th 2004, "Corina." He murmured, that was Spanish for beautiful, and what he always called her, but now when it slipped from his lips it was in grief. There was something missing from the headstone, he had always planned to get that fixed, maybe one day before he was dead in the ground right next to her he would do it. He wasn't afraid of death anymore, he was ready and had been for a long time.

As he sat there, and as always, Mac could swear that she was right there, the way it was supposed to be, but maybe he was getting senile from old age and a lifetime of drug abuse, it was possible. Methadone had eaten his bones too, which could account for the pain he had sitting there on the ground at the moment. But he was clean, and he had been for a long time; Lucy would have been happy about that. Mac hoped that where ever she was that she knew he had finally gotten clean.

Too late to save her though.

He was supposed to protect her and he hadn't been able to do that, a fact that haunted him all of his days. Mac had been reckless and Lucy paid the price for that, but he was paying too, unable to forget her. No matter what things, drugs and other pass times he acquired, nothing killed that pain inside of him.

He didn't take care of what belonged to him, she was his to protect.

When Lucy first died he slept on her grave on more than one drunken night, but that was a long time ago. He had accepted that he was too old to do that now, he'd die of frostbite or bake depending on the season. "I was always yours to have and you were always mine." those words rang through his head from a poem she had read to him often, she was always reading poetry, he remembered her so clearly, even now.

Her bright green eyes came to him in his dreams on more nights than not, the touch of her hair; he could swear he still remembered how it felt in his hands.

"I have always loved you more" were the words he made sure were inscribed on her stone, from that poem; but she had been wrong about that, he always loved her more. It was a fitting marker for her short life, she loved poetry, and she had loved him, but he loved her more.

Hey, Lucy, I remember your name.

/:/

Thank you for reading, I hope you will let me know what you think :) I'll add the tags as I go along, as usual. If I miss any just shoot me a message and I'll gladly add them. xoxoxoxo Krissy