STARTING POINT {{Creepypasta self-insert}}

CHAPTER ONE. - THE STARTING POINT.

      Shooting up in his bed and frantically looking around, he ran a hand through his hair and panting slightly as he rubbed at his eyes with his long fingers. It was another nightmare. It reminded him of what he had done, what had brought him here, what had actually made him a Proxy. "God damn it." Max hummed in that deep raspy voice, his dimples indenting his cheeks as he spoke. He kicked the blankets off his legs, his fathers disfigured face flashing every time he closed his eyes. Max grumbled and stormed out of his room, not even bothering to check the time before he stomped down the steps, sneaking to the kitchen and grabbing a glass cup from the cupboard. 

     "Why're you up, kid?" He heard a voice behind him. He didn't dare look back, instead just shaking his head as he shoved the glass under the running water. "Maxwell," The voice barked, getting Max to actually turn while he tightly gripped the cup. "Dont," he paused, avoiding eye contact. "Don't 'Maxwell' Me," he growled slightly, looking up at the man who stood at the other end of the kitchen island. It was Tim. He wasn't surprised, Tim was usually the one to check up on him ever since Max joined the mansion. "Answer my question then, Max," Tim demanded with a slightly bark in his tone, taking a step forward after he hid a cough into his elbow. "Nightmare?" Tim asked, cocking an eyebrow as he crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm Fine, Timothy, just fuck off." Max snarled, downing the cup of water before wiping at his lips with the back of his bandaged hand. Tim glanced at the bandages, he never asked about them; it wasn't his place to. "Just get back to bed when you can." Tim sighed, hiding more coughs into his elbow before he walked off, running a hand through his hair. Max rolled his eye and grumbled, staring at the glass cup before aggressively slamming it on the counter, running his hand across the counter as he walked out of the kitchen. "Just go to bed.." He thought to himself, rubbing his hands over his face before he started towards the stairs and to his room on the second floor. 

     He ran his hand along the staircase, staring down at his feet and counting the steps he walked up, counting the steps to his room. He ran his tongue along his teeth, his tongue stopping at the slight gap he had between his two front teeth. Something he was so insecure of for years, not anymore though. He though they were cute, and he thought it fit himself. He huffed, fixing his shirt as he went to sit on his bed after closing the door behind himself. Tim was only being nice, he shouldn't be such a dick-especially with all the shit that Tim had been through with that old College film: Marble Hornets. The events themselves were traumatic, Tim should've have gone through that. No one he actually liked should have to go through that. 

    Max groaned to himself and adjusted to lay under his blankets, staring at the ceiling before he was asleep the next moment. Maybe he'll forget about this in the morning.

   In the morning, Max as awoken by a soft knock on the door and Toby opening the door. "Breakfast," He spoke simply, closing the door behind himself and walking downstairs. Max got up and rubbed his hands over his face, He wasn't hungry, but he'd try to eat anyways.

   He got up and left his room, closing the door behind himself and counting the steps from his room to the kitchen, getting a cup of hot coffee, pouring some creamer in before dishing himself up a small plate.