Warning: This is a pretty dark story. Don't say I didn't warn you! ;) I got this idea while watching "Pollo Loco." Hope that explains it.
BIG THANKS TO: Rach L, who did a superb beta job. *thumbs up* Actually, this story was relatively tame until she came along. . . .
*****
You remember that night? The last night that you saw him. It was right after Lydecker's death. You slowly crept up to Fogle Tower, bloody, torn up . . . exhausted. Do you remember Max? You smelled like hell that night. Like you had just been through hell. There was that feeling, the need to throw up, to retch up everything . . . over and over until you were empty. The second he opened that door, those blue eyes of his flashing with worry, and you wanted to hurt him . . . badly. You wished he would stop that! Stop looking at you that way! Why wouldn't he?
You'll just have to make him stop then.
You looked at him. He was relieved, why? It couldn't have anything to do with you, no, it had to be something else . . . and . . . and . . . he did this to you! You looked at him, didn't you want to tear him limb from limb, smash that head right into the wall? You know you wanted to break him into a dozen pieces, wanted to see him in front of you, all mangled and torn up. Oh, that would've felt so good. Anything to stop that ringing in your ears, to get rid of that sour taste in your mouth. So disgusting! No matter how much you spat, it was there. The ringing . . . so loud! Your ears hurt, almost like they were bleeding. The stench of death surrounded you, showing no signs of letting up. God, it wasn't supposed to me like that! It wasn't supposed to be like that!
But you couldn't help it; you had to hurt Logan, because he deserved it. He did it to you. He did it to himself. It's not your fault. It's his fault. And maybe then, after the punishment has been dealt, the feeling of control will come back. Yes . . . you like that control, don't you?
So there he was, standing there innocently, as if he didn't screwed up your life the way he did. Fuck Logan! Perhaps, it was a moment of temporary insanity. You knew you were being irrational. You knew that a bad . . . bad part of you just jumped out and squelched every bit of reason that had previously been there. You despised him. You detested the man standing there. The very man who was wracked with worry for your well-being. And you didn't give a shit. You wanted to feel his bones break and splinter in your hands. Oh, how satisfying that would've been. Yes.
Logan--at that moment--reminded you of everything that you didn't need, didn't want. After a night of brutal beatings and broken spirits, he was the light at the end of the tunnel. But you're not supposed to want that! You don't want that! The light would only choke you, strangle you, and kill you! Oh God, you didn't want to die, did you? No! You weren't going to let it kill you. Can't let it kill you! You'd rather die before that ever happens. That was when you snapped . . . every logical thought fled from your mind that dark night. Did you miss it? Or did you enjoy that newfound freedom you had?
But maybe you had already crossed that threshold into insanity, maybe it happened when you felt Lydecker's neck crack in two from the strength of your own two hands. You remember his head rolling back, his eyes completely devoid of life, right? Remember how good it felt, Max? Remember that moment of complete and pure satisfaction?
No?
Well that's because it didn't fucking feel good! Oh, it was supposed to feel good! But it didn't!
Complete satisfaction. But it wasn't. You felt nothing. Dammit! It was suppose to be your triumph! To finally be rid of him and have no regrets. There was nothing else you needed, nothing you wanted. You already knew where Zack kept the rest of your brothers and sisters. Already knew every twisted and sordid detail of Manticore before and after the escape. You had everything! There was nothing left to do. You had accomplished everything you ever wanted. There was only one thing left. . . .
The control. Somewhere along the line, you lost it. Well, you wanted it back, didn't you? Only then will you feel good, feel completely satisfied.
You were going to get it back.
And you did.
The moment Lydecker took his last breath, you felt nothing. Perhaps the numbness would soon give way to the inevitable victory that you were supposed to feel. Any moment. . . . No! It didn't come! The inevitable victory didn't come! Instead, the vile guilt started to worm it's way into your psyche. It poisoned you, remember?
If at first you don't succeed, try . . . try again. Hurt Logan. You wanted to hurt him so much. You didn't want to kill him, just hurt him. Mess him up, just like he messed you up. Killing him is wrong, but it's okay to hurt him a little.
It was all his fault! He did this to you! He thought he could change you, thought that you were innately good inside. He lied to you! And you can't have people lying to you. For a while, he even convinced you. Who was the fool then? You were! But you're not going to play the fool anymore. He was wrong. You were wrong. He screwed you up! Seeing your creator dead was supposed to be satisfying. It was suppose to feel good. Very good. But it didn't feel good. It felt like nothing. The man begged for his life, even bargained for it. Ha ha, the great Lydecker, on his knees begging for your forgiveness . . . but still, nothing! You felt his neck snap. Remember how it felt, how it just fell back all limp. Then you saw his body crumble to the ground . . . but still, nothing.
And it's all Logan's fault because it sure as hell isn't yours!
Not your fault, Max! Never your fault ever again.
You stood in the middle of the room. Not thinking, but not doing anything, but then he touched your arm. It burned, didn't it? You didn't plan it, but the next thing you knew, you were raving incessantly about anything and everything. Did he see you? Did he see how you yelled at him? Wasn't that fun? He always tried to change you, tried to make you better. But you weren't about to let that happen. No. He was evil. He was killing you. You have to protect yourself. He was the enemy. He had to be eliminated. Don't you understand? You had to hurt Logan! It was necessary for your survival.
He tried to calm you down, but none of his words could ever make it better. It wasn't going to be better until you eliminated the threat. Until you eliminated him.
Remember? He ruined you; he took you and distorted you into something that you couldn't even recognize. He wasn't allowed to do that! But he did it anyways. It's his fault, don't you see? Blame it all on him, because it was his fault!
Do you remember yelling? And screaming? But none of it seemed to faze him. He reacted calmly. He even tried to reason with you. But you were too smart for that. You didn't fall into his trap. He was just trying to confuse you again. You listened to him. You listened carefully. All it succeeded to do was to drive you further away from him. You were far beyond the breaking point. So far that you couldn't even see it from where you were. There was nothing he could do. Nothing! So you didn't even think about listening to him.
Oh, how rational he sounded. God, it was so hard to breath. Do you remember that? The air had suddenly become so thick . . . but you fought it. He kept talking! Saying words that meant nothing to you. Everything was spinning . . . yet everything looked crystal clear to you. Why wouldn't he just shut the hell up? You were getting a headache. It hurt so much that you almost forget why you came there in the first place.
I love you, Max.
Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He wasn't supposed to say that. He couldn't have said it! No! It was wrong . . . wrong! No! He stood there, silently questioning how you felt. Doesn't matter . . . nope.
It didn't change anything . . . what he said. You were still the same. Yes, still the same. Was that little proclamation supposed to stop you? Was that supposed to make everything magically better? You stood there, not stunned in the slightest. You just stood there, calm. You didn't care. You're not capable of . . . that. Never was. If he was disillusioned enough to think so, then it serves him right. You remember what you said, Max? Remember?
I don't.
Ha! There! That'll teach him for confusing your mind.
There he was . . . trying so valiantly to keep that control. Oh, you remembered then . . . why you even came. Take back that control, Max. Take it back!
You started yelling again. Again and again. But he was immune to all of your attacks. Oh no, he was making you all confused again. Stop it!
You remember what happened next? The next moments were unforgettable. Slowly, your hand extended. He didn't have the slightest idea what was going on in your head. That's alright, neither did you. Clasp his neck, Max. Hold it tight.
Oh, the feeling of his blood struggling though the vein. His eyes, stared back at you . . . never wavering. He fought back, and he did a pretty good job too. But you held on. He turned just about every shade of purple there was. Still, it didn't deter you. Squeeze, take back that control! Take it back, dammit! You're a soldier! Complete the objective, finish the job!
Oh, you brought your other hand up, held onto him tightly. Remember that rush you felt? It was like a feeling of freefall, a feeling of liberation. The blood is pumping harder . . . in your hands . . . in his neck. Tighter! Tighter, Max!
All of a sudden, he stopped fighting. Just stopped. Oh fuck! Let go, Max! Let go! You unclenched your white knuckles. He fell back into his chair . . . .
Oh God, did you kill him? What did you do, Max? What did you do?
Run. Run away fast. Leave!
You never saw him again.
*****
End
