Max POV:
Jeez.
I can't believe I'm gonna tell him everything just cuz' he buttered me up with a cup of admittedly amazing hot chocolate and some soothing music.
It's just…
Arg! I donno…
There's this spark of something gentle and warm in his eyes that makes me want to spill my guts like I ate a bad enchilada.
I drink the last swallow of my hot chocolate and glance up at Fang from underneath my lashes.
Looking into his eyes, I give up—right then and there.
I, Max, give up.
I don't want to be alone anymore.
I don't want to keep these secrets inside me.
I don't want to be cold anymore, and Fang is so warm.
"Promise me that you'll listen straight through and not interrupt?" I plead.
Fang looks slightly surprised and then nods seriously.
Staring into Fang's warm, comforting, liquid obsidian eyes, I open my mouth and begin to tell my story.
"There was once a girl named Maxine Batchler. That girl was me.
When I was a child, I lived with my dad.
I never knew my mom, but I didn't care- because, to me, my dad was the coolest person in the whole wide world. He was a brilliant scientist and I wanted to be just like him when I grew up.
We did everything together.
One day when I was 6, he informed me that he was getting married to a woman I had never met.
I hated this. 'Daddy was mine' and I did everything I could to subvert their wedding.
Despite my interference, they got married not even a month later.
Seven months after the wedding, she gave birth to a little baby boy. My little brother- Ari. Apparently it was a shotgun wedding.
I was all prepared to hate Ari because I thought that my dad wouldn't pay attention to me because of him. But the first time I saw his little face, I fell in love.
A couple of months after Ari was born, my step-mom died. She got necrotizing fascilitis in an untreated infection in her c-section stiches.
My dad began drinking heavily and I started to pretty much raise Ari by myself. I didn't mind—I loved Ari more than anything, even my dad.
Then, when I was 10 and Ari was 3, he got roaring drunk. He came home raving about how it was Ari's fault that my step-mom died and tried to hit him.
I jumped in front of his punch and he hit me instead. Just once that first time.
Daddy became Jeb. He may have been my biological father, but I no longer loved him.
Pretty soon, he was getting drunk off his rocker several times a week and I had become his punching bag for his problems. He beat me and ignored Ari.
I continued to raise Ari. I fed him what I could get a hold of, read to him, and sang to him when he was scared.
Years went by like this.
The abuse got worse.
Punches turned into cuts and burns—on my torso or places where they couldn't be seen of course.
Later, he started bringing home experimental mixtures from work and testing them on me. Sometimes, if I was lucky, they wouldn't be too bad. Other times, I threw up or had diarrhea for days on end, had skull splitting headaches, or mood swings. Sometimes it felt like all the blood in my body was replaced by lava or ice.
How he didn't get fired is a mystery to me.
I survived everything because I knew that as long as I let him do whatever he wanted to do to me, he wouldn't hurt Ari. I also relied on my music to get me through everything. I sang my pain away and played a beat-up violin that I found buried in the back of the attic when I was hiding one time when I was 12.
Jeb told me that I sounded awful and that my violin was trashy just like me, but Ari loved my violin. I would play little songs and ditties for him and he would giggle and smile this innocent smile that I always longed to see. So, I kept at it.
I started working a part-time job under the table at a bar in the afternoons when I was 13 to help pay for Jeb's drinking habit. I saved up money on the side to buy some sort of transportation and managed to score a motorcycle off a coworker whose friend had just died.
When I was 16, I saw a classified ad in the paper advertising band auditions. Ari was 9 by that time and I thought he would be fine if I went out for just one night. I smoked everybody in the auditions by miles. Afterwards, I decided to go and buy a treat for Ari in celebration.
That was my mistake.
A thunderstorm came over the area and it took me longer than I thought it would to get home because of the heavy rain.
I pulled up in front of the house at 11 and I heard whimpering coming from inside the house.
I sprinted inside and saw Jeb with a butcher's knife. Ari pushed up against the wall covered in bruises with a broken leg and small cuts.
Ari saw me first and yelled "MAX!"
Jeb whirled around and started screaming at me. Asking me where I was. Telling me I was worthless. That he hurt Ari because I wasn't there.
Then he started laughing dementedly and raised the knife.
My eyes widened in horror and I moved to stop him.
But I was too late.
He looked me straight in the eyes and slashed open Ari's wrists to the bone.
My mind went blank. I grabbed a vase and threw it at Jeb, and then I rushed him and tackled him to the floor and banged his head into the floor until he stopped moving. His neck lay at an odd angle, but I had eyes only for Ari.
I rushed over to him and cradled his head, trying to staunch the blood flowing freely out of his wrists. I frantically smoothed his bloodstained blonde hair and looked around for a bandage; for something.
He just looked up at me sadly with wide innocent eyes and told me it was okay. He told me he felt like he was flying and he just knew he was flying someplace good. Then he asked me to sing to him.
I sang to him until the life left his eyes.
And then I screamed.
I screamed until my throat was raw- and then I kept on screaming in harmony with the thunder.
The neighbors must have called the police.
All I remember are flashing sirens and lightning.
I remember them prying Ari from my hands.
I remember feeling so intolerably cold.
The police told me that Jeb was dead.
I killed him.
The police took my statement and ruled it self-defense.
I was put into the foster system, but I ran away right away.
I went to my house to grab some money I had stored up, filled up a backpack with belongings, and took my motorcycle.
I got some documents so I could start over again as Maxine Martinez and then I pretty much rode my motorcycle until I ran out of cash to buy gas.
I ended up here in Denver. That was a little over a year ago.
I lived on the streets for a while and ate off handouts and my job washing dishes before the band got popular and I began to get some decent money through gigs and busking.
I got a deal on the rent for this apartment because the landlord is Nevermore's owner's sister.
I'm trying to graduate from high-school or at least get a GED so I can get a more stable job, but it's kinda hard cuz' I missed a whole year of school.
Yeah, so. That's my life in a nutshell…"
I finish lamely and stare down at the table.
"Max…" Fang says gently.
I continue to look at the table and Fang lifts my chin up so that I am looking into his eyes.
He softly tucks my hair behind my ear and gazes at me.
I don't see pity in his eyes.
I see compassion.
Fang looks concerned and brushes his thumb against my cheek..
It comes away wet and my chest feels tingly.
He gets up and gathers me into his arms.
He doesn't say anything.
He just stands there and holds me tightly in his arms.
Something snaps and I throw my arms around his neck and shove my face into the crook of his neck and bawl.
Fang carries me over to the mattress and holds on to me—murmuring comfortingly.
I cry into his chest and, slowly, I begin to calm down.
Fangs strokes my hair consolingly, and for the first time in over a year, I begin to feel the first vestiges of warmth.
A/N
Uh… yeah. This is why it's T.
Longest chapter yet!
How many of you are excited to finally hear Max's story? Anybody surprised?
How many of you are excited because Fax is finally starting to develop?
How many of you love me? How many haters do I got?
Tell me all in your reviews! I so wanna know what you guys think.
Thanks so much for the continued support!
I look forward to seeing what you have to say… just please don't kill me.
L-O-V-E
I love you guys! It's late. Review. Peace out.