Note: Now that the original storyline's over, I can get on to more stuff, like background and exposition! Whee! I think, after this rather stressing week, I'll start with Max's childhood. How about... When his mother died? Okay, here we go! [How the hell am I so cheerful in such a freaky fic?]

Delusions

By Warrior Kalia

Chapter 7:

Misery

Amanda Pegasus couldn't stand it anymore. The pain, the torment, the declarations of her worthlessness. It was too much. She had to get out.

She walked slowly to her son's room, knocked lightly on the door. No answer. She pushed the door open, holding her breath. Seeing Max, she let it out slowly, relieved.

He was sitting on his bed, his knees drawn towards his chest, reading. She supposed he could hear Christian yelling, the fights and... the aftermath... got scared, drew into himself. She didn't blame him.

She walked over to him, sitting next to him on the bed. She hoped she had used enough makeup to cover up her bruise. Max, however, didn't even look up at her. His beautiful burnt orange eyes were scanning the pages of his book. She peeked at the title. A Wrinkle in Time. Rather advanced for a child of five, but a good book. He read, perhaps intentionally blocking out her presence.

Amanda brushed her son's silver hair off of his forehead, looking at the beautiful boy that was a part of her. She leaned over and kissed his forehead, leaving a pink lipstick smear on the pale skin. Whispered words to him. Never once did his eyes stray from the pages of his book while she was there.

Slightly saddened by this, she brushed his cheek with the back of her hand and got up, taking one last look at him over her shoulder as she left the room. Perhaps, deep in his heart, he knew what she had told him already, that she loved him. She just hoped that his father didn't manage to take even that away from him.

And here he came, dragging her into their room, locking the door. Asking, demanding to know what she had been saying to Max. What she had been doing. She told him. It wasn't enough to calm him- it never was. So he hit her, just like he always did. Again, and again. She could barely even feel the blows nowadays. Unless he hit her in the same place every time. And he always seemed to remember to do that.

Now he shredded her clothing, striking at every inch of her that he could. She was just a casual observer, taken from her body and watching from the sidelines as he removed some of his own clothing, plunged into her. She watched and waited, her plan forming in her mind.

Tonight.

---

Dinner time. Amanda ate sparingly, not noticing her son do the same. She dabbed daintily at the corners of her mouth with her napkin, just as a lady should. She put it down and excused herself. She didn't notice Max's desperate, confused stare, but she could feel Christian's, his light blue eyes burning into her as she stepped lightly upstairs and into the bathroom. She locked the door behind her and, leaning against it, shivered.

Amanda searched the cabinets quietly, making sure to put everything back in its exact order when she was done. Screwing the last top back on its orange container, she gazed at the pile of medicine she had gathered. Two of her own antidepressants, several aspirin tablets, more of the assorted antidepressants she took, cold pills, antihistamines, eight of some strange pill Christian had, her own menstrual medication, a few of Croquet's migraine pills. One of Joseph's painkillers, for his broken leg, a few more things she had grabbed at random. She stooped down and took a small glass and bottle of wine she had hidden earlier from below the sink.

Filling her glass, she swallowed each of the thirty something pills she had accumulated, taking a small sip of Christian's good wine [which she had never been allowed to use] and gulping a pill with each mouthful. It took a couple of minutes, but she eventually took the last pill and sat down in the bathtub, waiting.

---

She was horny.

God, she was horny.

Her mind was racing in every direction at once, but most of it was concerned about her need for stimulation. And Amanda found her body reacting, her hand sliding between her sweaty legs and burying itself in the tangle of curly brown pubic hair. But even her weak attempts at pleasuring herself weren't helping. The overwhelming feeling was too much for her to handle. She wondered vaguely what pills she had taken, or what combination, would have produced such an effect. But she couldn't care for long. She bit her lip, the strain taking her over. She felt a warm trickle from her chin and realized she had bitten too hard. But she couldn't even care about that for long. Probably Valium or something.

She started coughing, a dry hack that wracked her body with convulsions and spattered blood onto the tiled floor a few seconds later. Wiping her mouth with one shaking wrist, Amanda sank back into the tub and closed her eyes. Her breathing slowed, and she managed to think of fish, rainbows, and Maximillion, respectively, before succumbing to the darkness.

---

Max was absorbed in the strange world where everyone was the same, trying his very best to ignore the figures and shadows whispering and conversing all around the room. There was also a lot of noise from outside, a siren and lots of yelling, but Max ignored that too. It was probably just the puppy and Oranja-Cokie the penguin playing around. They did that a lot.

Maximillion didn't even look up two hours later, when his father came into the room. The ash-blonde man glared at his son, standing straight-backed against the door, waiting for the boy to notice him. After thirty seconds of staying in front of the door, he gave up and walked over, obviously annoyed. He stood next to the child, who was still reading.

Completely pissed off now, Christian Pegasus took his son by his slightly long, silver hair and yanked him off the bed, tossing him cruelly across the room. Max's book flew into the air as he slid across the floor, thumping his head on his closet door. Max scrambled to his feet, rubbing his head and retrieving his book, which had hit the wall. Christian grabbed him by his collar and lifted the child into the air.

Max accidentally dropped his book as his bare feet left the floor. Christian spat at him, the saliva hitting Max's pale cheek as he winced. Drawing the scared boy close to his face, Christian snarled and dropped the boy, who landed with a thud on the cold ground and scooped up his book, hugging it. Christian sneered at the pathetic boy and made to leave the room. He paused, not bothering to turn back as he spoke.

"Your mother's dead."

And with that, the navy-suited man left, shutting the door on the stunned and frozen boy who was his son and locking it from the outside. Tucking the keys into his suit pocket, he set off to his bedroom, his cold, methodical gaze flickering with anger. Perhaps he had lost his wife, but his son was still his; at least he wouldn't escape... Christian would make sure of that.

Note: Tabs and stuff. Not much to add, really. Writing next chapter, look forward to Chris' POV!     -1/28/2004, Warrior Kalia