Chapter 2


To Namekuji: Firstly, thank you for reviewing, I greatly appreciate it. Secondly, there is a reason Max was attacked, beyond the $20 he had on him. I won't get into it now as that'd mean spoilers, but you needn't fret my child.


He was blind. That was it, the final word, the last thing he'd know ever again. The doctor's words sealed that reality in stone. Max lay in the bed, closing his eyes as tight as he could, and opened them again, hoping that it was all a surreal dream and he'd snap out of it any second now.

But he didn't wake up. This was his life now. Hundreds of thoughts passed through his mind. How would he ever do anything ever again. He wouldn't be able to read, watch TV or movies, or ever look at anything ever again. He'd need to be told which way to walk and which direction to piss in.

Worst of all, he'd be utterly defenceless. His parents would have an easy target now, as would all the people who just plain didn't like him. His classmates for one, the teachers for another, and people he cussed out in general. He'd never see anything coming. That thought immediately made him feel like throwing up.

He didn't remember giving the man his address, but apparently, he did. Max didn't hear the footsteps enter the room, but he heard the voice clear as day.

"Well…what happened to you?"

It was the jarring tone of his father, and hearing it so suddenly made Max flinch.

"Look at me, boy." It was an order. Usually Max would refuse on principle, but he didn't have the confidence right now. He craned his head in the direction he thought the voice came from, and hoped he was right.

"My god!" The man growled out. "What the hell did you do?"

Max shrank back into the pillows. The voice felt like rusty nails grinding against his ears.

"It's, I, I, I…" He stuttered. The explanation was lost to him, he couldn't arrange the thoughts in his head to make sense of everything himself, let alone tell anyone else what had happened.

The man who spoke to Max first piped up in his stead. "I'm sorry, Mr. and Mrs. …"

"Anand." Max's mother added.

"Anand. Your son has been attacked, and his eyes severely damaged." Neither of them said anything. Max was pissed off by their silence. He couldn't know the looks on their faces, but if he imagined hard enough, they probably looked bored or indifferent. "He's been left blind in both eyes. By the time he was brought to us the chemical had damaged the pupils, irises, sclerae and the corneas have been damaged most of all, resulting in a decolouration of the irises."

Max thought about what that meant. Did his eyes look blank and empty now, like a dead person's eyes? It was superficial, so he didn't know why it made his gut churn even more than it already had. It was a small consolation that he no longer shared an eye colour with his mom, but it did make him feel a tiny bit better.

"Well, will he ever be able to see again? At all?" His mother asked. Her voice lacked concern and worry. In fact, Max thought that the man cared more about the destruction of his eyes than either of his parents did. He wasn't surprised. The man was probably a doctor, who wanted to see people get better if nothing else. He didn't care whether or not Max got better, he cared if his patient got better.

The doctor didn't speak for a minute. Max could picture his face, despite never seeing him, his mouth agape, eyes darting from him to his parents, his brain trying to find the kindest words. He heard the man sigh what sounded like an attempt at a sad sigh. Then he spoke.

"It is very unlikely. The damage is too severe, and…"

The sudden sound of feet shuffling away pissed Max off. These were his eyes they were talking about. If anyone in the world had the right to know about their condition, he did. His parents certainly didn't. They probably only showed up because they'd be investigated by the police or child protective services if they left their blinded son in the hospital. If that happened, their "hobbies" would be known by the wrong people, and Max would become part of "The System". That's what he called the whole "foster-care, orphanage, adoption" crap. He was threatened with being shipped off to the nearest foster-home many times over the years. He knew they were empty threats. They liked the child benefits cheque that showed up in the letterbox every month.

He wondered, would they send him away now? He suddenly became a high-maintenance burden to them. They'd need to pay for his treatment, and anything else that came with having a blind child, and they didn't like spending money.

Correction: they didn't like spending money on him when they could give it to their dealers.

Max heard a single set of footsteps re-enter the room. "Ahem, Max?" It was the doctor.

"What?"

"The police have been called. They'd like to ask you a few questions about what happened."

"What the fuck does "the man" need to talk to me about?" Max crossed his arms and scowled.

"You were attacked, and they want to find the one's who did it. You're the only one who...encountered them, so they'd like to speak with you when you're able. You don't need to worry; your parents will be with you."

The company of his own parents did nothing but piss Max off. If they were in the room when the pigs spoke to him he'd need to be super careful about every word he said. If he spoke even a single incriminating word he'd pay the price, blindness or no blindness.

He figured it wouldn't do much to keep the police, and by extension; his parents, waiting.

"Send them in whenever." He muttered, his head beginning to ache again.

A moment later more footsteps than he could keep track of approached his bed. He could hear his mother's nasal breathing come closer than it normally would've. She probably wanted to seem like she fit the role of "The Caring Mother".

"Max?" A deep yet distinctly female voice addressed him.

"Yeah?"

"We'd like to ask you a few questions about what happened."

"What's to ask? I got manhandled by a pack of sadistic child molesters and had acid poured into my eye sockets. That's all there is to it." What was the point of this anyway? It's not like they'd be able to find the ones who did this. "Their faces were covered, I couldn't see them."

"I see." The police-woman said.

"So did I." Max added mutely.

"What'd you say, boy?" His father asked. Max flinched again. Not being able to see where the fucker was standing was really starting to really piss him off.

"I didn't say anything." He muttered. Pushing his dad's buttons was dangerous, especially if others were around to see him get embarrassed by his son.

"Was there anything else that happened, any other clues or hints?" A second, new voice spoke now, this one male, probably another officer.

Max shrugged, nothing sprung to mind. He was just walking down the street, minding his own business, and then he turned into an alleyway because…

"Actually, there is something, now that I think about it." No-one said anything else. They were all waiting for him to continue. "I turned into the alley in the first place 'cause a car pulled up a bit ahead of me. I thought, "Well I'm not putting up with this shit", so I turned into the alley to go around."

"Do you remember any details about the car?" The male officer asked.

"It was a shitty, old, black Toyota, I think. I'm pretty sure it was anyway."

"And what made you feel the need to go around the car in the first place?" The female officer asked this time.

Max scoffed. "This is a crap-hole town, and a random car pulling up right by a lone kid? I'm not so retarded as to let myself get kidnapped." Honestly, these people were stupidly tedious. There were hundreds of cars like the one he described puttering around the place. There wasn't a point in what knowing this particular one looked like. "Besides, there's nothing really saying it was their car, so what's the point?"

"They're just doing their jobs." His mother rasped out. God, she reeked of smoke, and every time she opened her mouth she let out another invisible cloud of tobacco laced smell.

"And there's nothing else you can remember? At all?" The male officer asked.

Max shook his head. "Nope, nothing at all. I guess that means your job in here is done." Max didn't care how rude or dismissive he sounded towards them. He didn't care about how his parents were probably thinking about how badly this reflected on them. He didn't care about finding the ones who did this. Well, that wasn't completely true, but that's how he felt at the moment. All he really cared about was the fact that he was never going to see again. He'd only ever see this empty nothing forever.

The officers said their farewells and were gone without Max realizing or caring. The doctor also thought the "family" would appreciate some time alone together. If he could read Max's mind he would've never have even considered the thought. He probably would've called the officers back as well. Max knew that'd be the average person's reaction anyway. But he wasn't average. No. He was going to steel through this! He was going to get out of this bed and live a life worth living goddammit! He was going to-

"Why do you have that stupid look on your face, boy?"

-flinch yet again. That single comment, the lonesome, monotone, icy-cold comment shoved a dagger into Max's heart. The uplifting thoughts he allowed himself to entertain for just a moment were turned to dust, and then blown away by the frigid bellow of his father's voice.

"I-" He considered his words very carefully. If he said something insulting, or even mildly snarky, he'd be in for it. He wouldn't be punished immediately, no, they were too smart for that. They wouldn't dare as long as there were potential witnesses so close by. A doctor or nurse could happen to waltz right in while his ass was getting beat, getting slapped across the face, or hit on the back. Depended solely on their collective mood. "I don't know." He replied plainly. He couldn't be hit if he said nothing to warrant it. That logic worked at least some of the time. "Stupid thoughts I guess." He muttered it quietly, yet clearly enough so they heard it. It never hurt to throw in a self-degrading comment now and then. They felt sour on Max's tongue, but when he used them he found he'd be more likely to avoid a hit. They probably felt better and more justified about themselves when he did it.

His father scoffed. "You're probably right. Ya know, I don't think I've ever met someone as stupid, as ungrateful, and as selfish as you, Max."

Those words, unlike the previous, ice-like words of indifference, burned through Max's ears as he heard them. The absolutely incredulous injustice of them made his temper flare like a gasoline fuelled bonfire. He was selfish? He was ungrateful? He was stupid? This coming from an unemployed, alcoholic drug-addict, who spent more money on an ambiguous pill than on food for his son and then smacked said son when he dared to say he was hungry? Such hypocritical words coming from a man who never bothered to educate himself beyond the dos and do-nots of self-inserting a syringe into the crook of your arm? Someone who had enough unknown felonies under his belt to put away a dozen men long enough to miss their new-born's college graduation?

It made Max want to scream, it made him want to yell bloody murder at the bastard and kick him and punch him and make him hurt any way within his power! But he couldn't do any of that, nor could he put any of his thoughts to speech. Doing either of those would've proven hazardous when he was physically able, but now? He wasn't suicidal just yet.

"Really? Well, I guess I've found something to put on my resume then. Do you know anywhere that'll hire a blind, minority 10-year-old?" It wasn't the safest thing he could've said, but it was just sarcastic enough that it let out a little spark of the boiling anger festering in his tiny body.

"Don't speak to your father that way." His mother rasped.

He pursed his lips together. Her speaking only annoyed him more, and he wanted to hurt her too, just as much as he wanted to hurt his father.

"Tch, it's not like it's a hard question. The answer's "nothing" by the way, in case it wasn't obvious."

He really wasn't good at watching his mouth. He knew it was the wrong thing to say, not wrong morally, just wrong for his health. He didn't need to see to know his father's nostrils were flaring; he could hear the bull-like breathing.

"I'll chalk this attitude up to the drugs you're doped up on, boy. I see any more of it though, and you'll wish your brain was melted like those useless fucking eyes of yours!"

Max's temper flared anew. He gritted his teeth and clenched the blanket in his fists. He was just letters away from exploding and telling the pair they could go and shove themselves up the Quartersister's cunt. He managed to hold his tongue this time though and calmed himself. His head and eyes ached a throbbing ache. If this is what the drugged-up pain was like, he didn't wanna feel it in its complete glory.

"Yeah, it's the drugs." Max murmured. He lay back on the bed and pulled the covers up to his neck. "Maybe if I go to sleep I'll wake up and this fucking nightmare will just be a result of second-hand drug taking." It didn't seem to be likely. This kind of anger could only happen in real life, but he went to sleep anyway. His parents didn't have any issues with that. It gave them a good excuse to get the fuck out of there and take whatever they had lying around after their New-Year's celebrations.


His dreams were still in colour. When he woke up he remembered the dull, dusty blue of his bedroom carpet, the faded brown of Mr. Honey-Nuts, the ugly green of the kitchen tiles, and David's stupid brown hair. Was it brown? He couldn't remember it clearly. He knew it puffed up in the front, like a fag would have it, but he had a hard time recalling its colour. It was more of a reddish-brown, he finally realized. He said it was called "Burnt Umber" or something. David threw a little tantrum when Max called him a half-ginger daywalker, saying that he wasn't ginger, and even so, there was literally nothing different about them. Max knew that, obviously, but David's buttons were easier to push than his dad's, and he didn't suffer any consequences for playing with the counsellor's emotions. Well, most of the time anyway.

He heard the door open and a pair of light footsteps came closer. There was a jingle of rings and Max guessed that the curtain around his bed had been pulled open.

"Hello Max." A too cheery woman's voice greeted him. "It's good to see you awake. You must want something to eat by now."

The woman was difficult for Max to place, at least by voice alone. She sounded genuine enough, but no-one was that happy to give a recently blinded child his dinner. Then again, David was still an unsolved anomaly in Max's worldview. If this woman was even a fraction as genuine as David, he could believe she was actually happy to give him food.

"Yeah, I am." He rubbed the sleep from his eyes with his fists, and he nearly snapped when he heard the woman gush "Awww!"

He was brought a tray of food that was served to him breakfast-in-bed style, with a fancy stand and all. It actually smelled nice, and there were a few things there for him. Some warm bread, a soup of some sort, something sweet and chocolatey, and what smelled like apple juice.

His suddenly realized that his mouth was dry and had that awkward morning taste in it. He went straight for the juice, but he couldn't quite tell where it was, so his hand knocked it from the tray before a drop of it even reached his lips.

"Fuck!" He yelled, pissed at his own inability to take a damn drink.

"It's okay!" The woman pattered over to him and placed the drink on his tray again. "There's a lid on it, and a straw."

"Oh." He felt his cheeks heat up a bit. Not only was he reduced to a toddler's sippy-cup, he couldn't even use it right. Carefully this time, he used both hands to pick up the cup, and found the mouth of the straw after some feeling around. It tasted good, great even, better than hospital food ought to have been. He felt around for the bowl of soup he smelled. It was warm to the touch. He found the spoon and slowly brought it to his mouth. It was delicious, the best thing he'd tasted in a while. It was better than a pop-tart and coffee dinner, and even better than McDonald's. When he thought about it for more than three seconds, he realized that his standards were lower than his Dad's sense of empathy and compassion.

He ate fast, slurping it down without hesitation (or manners). He had missed the bowl a few times when he went to scoop more soup and had knocked something soft and crumbly around the plate a few times. He poked at it and felt creamy, melted butter on his fingertip. He picked it up and used it instead of the spoon with his soup. It tasted even better with the bread. After finishing the soup and eating every crumb of bread he could find he remembered the final item he could still smell. He searched for it after swashing down another gulp of apple juice. When he felt something warm and spongey against his fingers he knew he'd found it. He licked his fingers clean of the smooth, sugary chocolate sauce before feeling for the entire piece. It was big enough to fit in both of his hands. Licking his lips, he took a massive bite out of it. He felt some of the warm sauce smudge against his nose, but he couldn't have cared less. It was delicious, and it was the only thing that existed in his world right now.

When every last bite was gone Max licked his hands clean too. He used the front of his gown as a towel and wiped his face with it.

"He-he."

Max jolted when he heard the small little laugh only a few feet away. His face flushed hot when he realized that the woman had never left and had seen him devour his food like a ravenous wild-child.

"You saw nothing!" He hoped he looked threatening as he pointed his finger at her. Was he pointing his finger at her? He only knew she was within a few feet, but beyond that, nothing. "Grr, where are you!?"

"Right here, Max." He felt her fingertips lightly touch his outstretched hand. He pulled back immediately as if she were as hot as orange coals. "Your face is very messy. Will you let me clean it for you?"

Max thought about the question, wondering why a nurse would bother asking and not just do her job without consideration for the patient's comfort. That's what the hospital experience was sold to be like anyway. After thinking about it objectively he didn't want to look like a child unable to eat cleanly when his doctor, or god forbid; his parents, came in.

"You might as well, it is your job after all."

She must've been prepared for that response because not a second after giving her the okay, Max's face was practically smothered by a warm, damp cloth. She wasn't a moment too late either because right after she pulled away Max heard the door open and the heavier footsteps of the doctor came in.

"Ah, Max, it's good to see that you're awake. There's something I must give you."

Max wondered what it was. Was it more food? More pain-killers? The bill? He dreaded the prospect of that last one.

"Yeah? What is it?"

"Eye-drops." The doctor answered.

"Do you understand the concept of blindness, "doctor"? You see, I don't."

The doctor chuckled at Max's quip and strode right up to his bedside. "The point of these is to make sure that your eyes don't get infected, and they'll help with the healing process. Tilt your head back please."

Max did as he was told. He trusted the doctor to an extent, as much as one could trust a medical professional to do their job at least.

"They'll sting just a bit though."

He wasn't lying, they really did sting. Though, after the agony of having whatever blinded him poured into his eyes carelessly, it didn't seem so bad. He still cursed loudly though.

"Dammit!" Max grunted, squinting tears out of the corners of his eyes. "How much longer do I hafta stay here?"

"Actually, you'll be discharged in the morning, Max." The doctor replied. "We asked your parents if they'd like to stay the night by your bedside, but they said they'd better stay at home and get things ready for you. We said to be here at 10 am for you, so you have 'til then."

Max had very mixed feelings about leaving so soon. On one hand: his parents. On the other: brain numbing boredom and a perpetual sickbed and too-cheery people.

"Great." Was the only response he could muster up, and it wasn't very enthusiastic at that. In any case, he had until the morning to brace himself for blind life with his parents. He was not looking forward to it.


Thanks to everybody who has read this far, I greatly appreciate the time you took to read thus far. If you're feeling generous please leave a review, it'll let me know to work on the next chapter a bit faster. Thank you.