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Max
Once the storm had passed and the night sky started clearing. Max sat at the table. With only the moonlight as light. He leaned forward and commenced sketching another one of his dark figures.
Max was not like Billy. He was born healthy and grew up in a natural environment until the age of seven. With the act of perverted intentions, his life was to change overnight forever.
His mother was the chairman of a large charity organisation. With this position, she had to attend all the meetings and functions they had. Taking her away from her family to perform her duties. Arriving home very late in the evening.
It was one of these evenings that Max’s father had drunk a large quantity of alcohol, making him very intoxicated. Going to the young boy’s bedroom, he forced the child to do sexual acts for his pleasure. From there on this would happen twice a week, when his mother would attend some charity conferences. His father would torture him, in ways that would not show marks on his body. Then he would use the young boy’s body for his desires.
He did not speak to anyone about his tormentor. The years passed and the abusing became unendurable at times. Max started not to trust people. He saw everyone as his enemy. He had no friends at school. All his close family members lived far away. He would only see them during the festive season. All he had was his mother, which he adored. His father, just the sight of him made him sick.
Max was thirteen years old when all the abusing had become too much. It was near the end of October. When one evening his mother came home one hour late, as she went to Hamleys in Regent Street to pick up a gift for her son. She was unable to take him trick or treating that year. To make up for this, she purchased for Max a set of football players for his Subbuteo collection.
Hearing the front door, Max rushed to greet his mother. Embracing her from the waist, not letting her go. Kneeling down, she hugged him as well. Kissing him on both cheeks, she said.
“I have a gift for you Max.”
Putting her hand in her Michael Kors handbag, she extracted a small Hamleys bag. Max, seeing the name on the bag, he quickly clutched it.
“Thank you, mummy,” He happily said to his mother.
Taking a glimpse inside the bag, he saw the name Subbuteo on the side of the small box inside. Rushing up the stairs, he went into his bedroom to get the rest of his Subbuteo game. On returning to the living room, he could hear his mother and father shouting at each other in the kitchen. Not taking much notice, he started to prepare his Subbuteo football pitch in the middle of the living room. Once that was ready, he carefully opened the box with the new football players his mother gave him. Setting them all up, like real football players, before they start a match.
“I can’t wait to see my cousins at Christmas. To show them my new football team mummy bought me.” He thought to himself as he was preparing to start his fantasy match.
SLAM. It was the sound of the front door closing.
Glancing towards the living room entrance, Max saw his father was standing there with a half-full whisky glass in his hand.
“What are you doing there?” His father spat out.
Looking down on the carpet, from fear. Max started shaking, knowing what was going to happen next. “Just playing with my game dad,” he whispered.
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