It was at this moment he woke up as himself, finally becoming aware again. His body felt weighted as if tied to the bed and his head clouded with post-dream fog. He couldn’t remember what he had dreamt about but his father used to tell him “if you can’t remember something, it must not have been that important”. Remembering things had always been difficult for Max. Even then, he lay in bed trying to remember what had occurred between leaving school and going to sleep. He vaguely recalled Percy’s presence but even that was little more than a hazy afterthought.

It was dark in his room now as the night had fallen. He hated this room. It was always freezing in the winter and stifling in the summer as if the house was punishing him for still being alive. This house was still a relatively new purchase by Eddie but the grudge that the creaking wood floors of the old house held against him must have followed him here.

Max’s lightswitch was by the door not too far from the bed. He had to squint to see it through the dimness, only able to see where the door was by the light leaking from beneath it. He had always been afraid of the dark. Part of him believed there were things there, waiting for him to step from the safety of his sheets to grab his ankles from under the bed and drag him into the shadowy corners. What they would do to him after were things he didn’t want to even begin to think about. Whatever they would do would surely be worse than what the 12-year-old could imagine. But he would then laugh inside of his head and ask himself what made the bed remotely safe compared to the rest of the room? If there was something there, the bed and its flimsy sheets weren’t going to protect him. He wasn’t sure if he was soothing himself with these convictions or making it worse. Sometimes, Max wondered why he bothered trying to reason with himself at all.

He could hear Eddie laughing downstairs in the kitchen, something shrill and enthused. It was some kind of consolation knowing that if he screamed, someone might hear him. Then again, there was no assurance anyone would help him. He used to have nightmares every night and sometimes he would wake up screaming, Eddie rushing to his aid. Eventually, she stopped coming to check on him since no one was breaking into the house to kill them after all and he was a “big boy who could get over a little dream”. 

He took a deep breath and braced himself for the pounce. With a short gasp, he leapt from the bed and ran for the lightswitch with reckless desperation, hands flailing for the wall. He could almost feel the very darkness breathing on the back of his neck as he lunged for the light, its claws brushing the ends of his hair as it reached for him. The light flickered on and quickly he surveyed the room with wide eyes and panting breath as if expecting something to actually be there. There never was anything there, yet something in his head kept trying to tell him it was just waiting for the light to turn off again. A feeling of relief washed over him as the coast otherwise seemed clear and he turned to the door, opening it slowly. The laughter got louder. It sounded like Eddie was in a good mood. Justin must have gotten her something while they were out.

Maybe that thing he got her was drunk.

He didn’t want to see them right now but it seemed like it would be inevitably unavoidable. His mouth was dry and tasted of burnt tires and his cheeks were likely red from sleep and he didn’t feel like listening to Justin tease him for it. It had already been a strange day. He combed his hair out of his face with his fingers as he slipped as quietly as he could to the bathroom, switching on the light with an absent smack of a hand. The light flickered briefly before settling with a dull and faint buzzing sound, illuminating the room a sickly yellow. He couldn’t help but glance at the mirror and catch himself with a look like a deer in the headlights of an oncoming car. 

Maxwell Grey.

Grey like his eyes.

Grey like the sky.
As full of life as a dead fish.

Shaggy blondish hair past his ears and a pale face with confirmed ruddy cheeks from sleep made up the look of a boy who wanted nothing more than to return to bed. He leaned forward over the sink to examine himself more closely. His only duties were to attend school and perform the occasional household chore and still he felt as if he had some kind of  immense and neglected yet forgotten responsibility on his shoulders like a bill hadn’t paid or a child he hadn’t fed.

What had happened 9 months ago wasn’t his fault. How could it have been? And yet it somehow was his error. The Max in the mirror stared balefully back at him as if to ask “why didn’t you stop it?” There was nothing he could tell him except that perhaps he was a coward. And perhaps he always would be.

There were times he compared himself to Percy and wondered why they were friends at all. Percy was tall. Percy had pretty red hair like a summer evening sky and dark eyes that sparkled like amethyst when he spoke. A few stray freckles dotted his cheeks and nose to give his face some color and a bright smile to give the whole room light. He’d gotten in trouble for Max so many times that his nickname might as well have been Scapegoat. Part of Max wondered if Percy questioned their friendship like this as well. Did he regret meeting him? Was Max a responsibility to him like whatever Max had forgotten was his own?

Max turned on the water and let it run in the sink, hoping the noise would help to drown out his thoughts. A sharp and excited cry from downstairs startled him and he quickly turned his attention to the icy water, cupping his hands under it and splashing his face with a gasp. He wiped his face on his navy sweater with its St. Augustine crest on the breast. It was a stupid school full of stupid people. He guessed he was one of those people.

His stomach growled. He had to be brave if he wanted to eat tonight. With a deep breath, he made his way downstairs, the steps creaking beneath his feet as if trying to warn those below of his presence. As he peeked into the kitchen, he could see Eddie sitting on the kitchen counter with Justin standing between her legs, kissing her with delight. Eddie had a tomboyish look to her, her blonde hair cut short like a boy’s and her wardrobe mainly consisting of baggy tops and flannels and ragged jeans. Justin, on the other hand, had long dark hair and tighter fitting knitted shirts usually in shades of blue or green that only came down to the forearm, his closet seemingly containing an endless supply of khaki. Max had heard that Justin was in a hard rock band with his friends but he had a hard time believing it.

Max walked in hoping they wouldn’t say anything to him as he went to the fridge to find a snack. It was clear dinner wasn’t going to be made anytime soon, the couple far too busy with one another to notice. The house phone on the counter rang and Eddie reached for it with a low lean.

“Yeah?” she said, tucking the phone to her shoulder, trying not to giggle as Justin kissed her neck. “Yeah he’s here. MAX!”

“I’m right here,” Max said softly, closing the fridge with a yogurt cup in hand.

“Percy’s on the phone,” she said, holding it out to him.

He took it with a light sigh. “Hi, Percy.”

“Hey, Max. Calling to tell you to take your medicine.”

“I know, I was going to,” he replied, pulling a chair to the stove so he could reach the cabinet above the hood for his medicine. Eddie tended to put the medicines away there under the logic that it was then closer to the drinking glasses and water filter.

“I thought you were going to take it when you got home.”

“I was tired. I went to bed early. I just woke up, though,” Max said, setting the phone down briefly to wrestle open his pill bottle before picking it back up again.

“Sorry I didn’t call sooner. Hey, listen, my dad was thinking about heading to a ski resort in Vermont for the winter break and we were wondering if you wanted to come. I was going to ask closer to break but Dad wanted me to ask ahead of time in case you guys already made plans.”

“I can’t ski.”

“No, you don’t ski, Max. What you do is you sit on a snowboard and sled down the mountain. It’ll be fun! I heard the lodge is cool. They have an arcade, I think.”

“I’ll ask Eddie later.”

“Tell me as soon as you can. Dad wants to have everything set up by December 8th because if he waits too long it’s gonna start getting crazy and we won’t be able to find any good places.”

“Okay…”

“You doing okay, Max?”

Max said nothing for a moment as he reached for a glass and stared at Eddie and Justin canoodling, then quietly asked “can I still come over to make cookies? Or is it too late?”

“Umm, I think so! Let me just ask my mom first if it’s okay. It’s probably alright if you want to come over now. I’ll meet you outside.”

Max nodded before remembering that Percy couldn’t see what he was doing. “Okay.”

“See you.”

“See you.”

As Max hung up, Eddie regarded him with a bemused squint. “Cookies? Really? What boys get together to make cookies?”

Max neglected to answer her, understanding the question as ultimately rhetorical anyway, and filled himself a glass of water with which to choke down his pills, very nearly gagging on the capsules. He was told they were meant to help him with his anxieties but he hadn’t personally noticed a difference. It wasn’t something he was keen on figuring out how to explain to his sister, however, as listening wasn’t her strongest suit.

“I’m going to Percy’s,” Max reported thickly as he scrubbed his lips and set the glass in the sink.

“Wow, not even gonna ask?” Eddie snorted as she used her foot to push her boyfriend away in order to stand.

“No,” Max replied and ducked from the room before she could scold him for it.

“I take care of you, you know!” she called to him and scoffed derisively. “You better be back for dinner!”

“Okay,” the boy said as he climbed the stairs on all fours back to his bedroom, seeking a few items to bring with him stuffed into his spare backpack.

A flashlight, a small board game, his father’s swiss army knife, and, after some deliberation, his homework on the off chance he would get to it with Percy’s help. His eyes drifted to Doom, lips pursed in contemplation. It was childish to have it at all let alone to take it with him. His parents had gifted it to him as a toddler and he’d yet to give it up- and he certainly wouldn’t do so now. It was comforting. But carrying the plus sized plush all the way to Percy’s might be more of a hassle than it was worth. Max propped his knee against the bed, leaning over to it to brush his fingers along the seam thoughtfully then pressed his face to the fabric to inhale the strawberry scent one more time.

“I’ll be back…” he whispered to it, tucking his backpack against his chest and rushing downstairs to find his shoes.

He hated walking alone at night but was grateful for the streetlamps creating pockets of safety along the asphalt. His bedroom felt unsafe enough, but here there were even more places for the unknown to hide. Even the trees themselves seemed to grow claws instead of branches and mull over where they’d place him in their lost child collection. Every creak, every groan, every flinch of the leaves in the darkness beyond the orange bathed spotlights brought Max’s heart deeper into his throat until it threatened to throttle him.

Perhaps he should turn back. He could call Percy to cancel or ask if Percy’s father could come pick him up instead. Max was always encouraged to face his fears- albeit in the wake of curt mockery- and he wondered how many children out there met their fates in the dark upon facing the same fears. To think all is well only to have a creature lurch from the shadows and snatch them away before they could utter so much as a cry of surprise. The thought of it sent shivers up Max’s spine and hastened his gait until he was jogging down the damp street, flanked by the display of intermittent porch lights and partially illuminated holiday decorations.

Again, he could feel that breath on the back of his neck, those fingertips against his hair and back, and he let out an involuntary whimper as he pushed himself into a sprint, dashing with every ounce of effort towards the safety of Percy’s house. Closer, closer, he could feel it closer, and hopeful relief flooded his chest as he finally spotted that kitschy barn-shaped mailbox perched on the property of that wonderful house at the other end of the intersection, though Percy not present. Max stumbled his way onto the porch, head spinning, and clutched the knob to let himself in quickly without looking back at what imaginary horrors followed him.

“Hello, Max,” Percy’s mother greeted him with a gap-toothed and lipstick-stained grin from the kitchen passthrough as she busied herself with preparing the ingredients for the boys, Percy’s father’s pre-recorded football game the only target of the armchair-ridden man’s attention.

“H-Hi…” Max replied, pressing his back against the closed door as he felt anxious around Percy’s parents without Percy there to accompany him regardless of how friendly they were to him.

“Percy gettin’ the mail?” she inquired as she plopped a bag of sugar onto the dining table.

“I didn’t see him…”

“No? He went out to wait for you.”

Max glanced towards the door for an uncertain moment then opened it again to peer out into the night, gaze darting this way and that in search of the redhead. “... I don’t see him.”

“No?” she repeated, leaving her post to take a look for herself. She scooted past Max and stepped out onto the porch with hands on her hips. “Percy? Percy, Max is here! Percy?”

No response was given despite her many calls.

And the last one would be made to the police.