My Name Is
By PreciousJax
A/N: I felt the opening scene of Designate This was so powerful, I wrote this shortly after. Hope you enjoy.
Max. My name is Max. My name is Max. I'm not X5-452. I'm Max. I'm not a super solider. I'm Max. My name is Max.
I pause, my hand going still on the strip of metal that may be my key to freedom. I have to say it out loud, just to reassure myself that I can. My voice echoes in the small confines of my cell. "Max. My name is Max." I want to say it louder; I want to scream it over and over again. Instead I go back to the slow, methodical process of filing away at the heavy cinderblocks that make the walls of this hell.
At first I refused to let them win at all. State my designation, they asked. Fuck you, I replied. It caused me a hell of a lot more pain, I could have just lied, but as soon as I would have submitted, I thought that it would be the beginning of my end. It took five days, five days if solitude in that tiny box. Then I brokenly sobbed out my designation number, just to get out of that never ending hell. When they left me in there for another five hours, it might have been longer, time seems to run together, I think it was just to prove to me they could.
I cried that night, I cried for hours, because I let them win.
Then I understood what I was doing wrong. Let them think they were winning. It would just make my victory ten times sweeter. Then I found that loose piece of metal under my bed and here I am. I think by the end of the night I can have the first cinderblock loose. Then I'll be one step closer to getting my strange little life back.
It's hard to pretend to be the good little solider. Hell, I pretty much suck at it. I fought everyone as hard as I could, I did my conditional drill as fast as I could, I allowed the doctors to go over every inch of my body with barely a word. Well, at least I didn't step on their throats like I wanted too. Still, all they had to do was mention Logan, show me a picture of Zack, or bring up any aspect of my old life, and it was like being back at square one.
Today, I saw Zack. More specifically, I saw what was left of him after that bitch was done with him. She's right, in a way. I killed my brother. He saved my life so many times, all because I had that insane need for 'phony sentimentality.' His finger pulled the trigger, but my actions were the catalyst. He's dead because of me and I'll have to deal with that all my life. But I wont let the guilt eat me up; I have too many people who need me to get through this bitch in once piece.
Then they showed me a picture of Ben. She told me that I was poison, that everything I touched was destroyed. She's probably right. If I wouldn't have broken Ben's knee he could have run out of those woods with me. I could have gotten him help, he would have been okay. But now he's dead. This time it was directly on me. Seems to me, I can't stop killing my brothers.
I couldn't save her. I couldn't save Tinga. I remember holding her cold, wet, lifeless body in my arms like it was a moment ago. I couldn't save my big sister, I don't think I could have saved her, no matter how much I'd like to think I could have. When I get out of here, I'm going to find Charlie and Case, and I'm going to tell them the truth. They need to know. They can't spend their lives guessing. I know what its like, that wondering. I spent a decade wondering if anyone else made it out of Manticore alive.
Up until that moment when they showed me a picture from one of Logan' broadcasts, my nerves were jittering under my skin. If felt like a thousand bugs were crawling just under my skin. But then she held up the picture of those all-too-familiar eyes. Everything just smoothed into one silky sheet. I never felt more confident in that moment than I have in the near twenty-one years of my existence. I told her the truth. She'd never find him. I'd never let her.
I will never be hers.
Logan, I wish he knew I was still alive. Renfro thinks that he's fighting so hard because he thinks I'm dead. If only she knew how much harder he'd fight if he knew I was alive. The last thing I remember was him sobbing out my name before I passed out. That was the last time someone has used my name.
Max. My name is Max.
I hope he knows I love him. If he doesn't, he will soon.
I hear guards heavy footsteps falling heavily down the hallway, so I shove myself off the ground and drop my bed down and jump in quietly. The shadow passes in front of my door, pauses, and then moves on.
They think they can break me. They think I'll relent. Never.
Into the dark I whispered my oath to Logan, my promise to Zack, and my mantra to myself. "Max. My name is Max."
My name is Max.
My name is Max.
My name is Max.
By PreciousJax
A/N: I felt the opening scene of Designate This was so powerful, I wrote this shortly after. Hope you enjoy.
Max. My name is Max. My name is Max. I'm not X5-452. I'm Max. I'm not a super solider. I'm Max. My name is Max.
I pause, my hand going still on the strip of metal that may be my key to freedom. I have to say it out loud, just to reassure myself that I can. My voice echoes in the small confines of my cell. "Max. My name is Max." I want to say it louder; I want to scream it over and over again. Instead I go back to the slow, methodical process of filing away at the heavy cinderblocks that make the walls of this hell.
At first I refused to let them win at all. State my designation, they asked. Fuck you, I replied. It caused me a hell of a lot more pain, I could have just lied, but as soon as I would have submitted, I thought that it would be the beginning of my end. It took five days, five days if solitude in that tiny box. Then I brokenly sobbed out my designation number, just to get out of that never ending hell. When they left me in there for another five hours, it might have been longer, time seems to run together, I think it was just to prove to me they could.
I cried that night, I cried for hours, because I let them win.
Then I understood what I was doing wrong. Let them think they were winning. It would just make my victory ten times sweeter. Then I found that loose piece of metal under my bed and here I am. I think by the end of the night I can have the first cinderblock loose. Then I'll be one step closer to getting my strange little life back.
It's hard to pretend to be the good little solider. Hell, I pretty much suck at it. I fought everyone as hard as I could, I did my conditional drill as fast as I could, I allowed the doctors to go over every inch of my body with barely a word. Well, at least I didn't step on their throats like I wanted too. Still, all they had to do was mention Logan, show me a picture of Zack, or bring up any aspect of my old life, and it was like being back at square one.
Today, I saw Zack. More specifically, I saw what was left of him after that bitch was done with him. She's right, in a way. I killed my brother. He saved my life so many times, all because I had that insane need for 'phony sentimentality.' His finger pulled the trigger, but my actions were the catalyst. He's dead because of me and I'll have to deal with that all my life. But I wont let the guilt eat me up; I have too many people who need me to get through this bitch in once piece.
Then they showed me a picture of Ben. She told me that I was poison, that everything I touched was destroyed. She's probably right. If I wouldn't have broken Ben's knee he could have run out of those woods with me. I could have gotten him help, he would have been okay. But now he's dead. This time it was directly on me. Seems to me, I can't stop killing my brothers.
I couldn't save her. I couldn't save Tinga. I remember holding her cold, wet, lifeless body in my arms like it was a moment ago. I couldn't save my big sister, I don't think I could have saved her, no matter how much I'd like to think I could have. When I get out of here, I'm going to find Charlie and Case, and I'm going to tell them the truth. They need to know. They can't spend their lives guessing. I know what its like, that wondering. I spent a decade wondering if anyone else made it out of Manticore alive.
Up until that moment when they showed me a picture from one of Logan' broadcasts, my nerves were jittering under my skin. If felt like a thousand bugs were crawling just under my skin. But then she held up the picture of those all-too-familiar eyes. Everything just smoothed into one silky sheet. I never felt more confident in that moment than I have in the near twenty-one years of my existence. I told her the truth. She'd never find him. I'd never let her.
I will never be hers.
Logan, I wish he knew I was still alive. Renfro thinks that he's fighting so hard because he thinks I'm dead. If only she knew how much harder he'd fight if he knew I was alive. The last thing I remember was him sobbing out my name before I passed out. That was the last time someone has used my name.
Max. My name is Max.
I hope he knows I love him. If he doesn't, he will soon.
I hear guards heavy footsteps falling heavily down the hallway, so I shove myself off the ground and drop my bed down and jump in quietly. The shadow passes in front of my door, pauses, and then moves on.
They think they can break me. They think I'll relent. Never.
Into the dark I whispered my oath to Logan, my promise to Zack, and my mantra to myself. "Max. My name is Max."
My name is Max.
My name is Max.
My name is Max.