Max and the Crystal Gems

Stupid Hair

As the door closed behind David, Max felt his heart clench. He heard the camp counselor call his name but couldn't find his voice to reply.

His mother turned away and walked back into the kitchen. Rahim scoffed and said gruffly,

"Get to bed."

Max didn't want an argument so he simply nodded and set off up the stairs.

"Fucking rude, that is;" his dad continued. "Showing up so late. Me and your mother were busy, you know that? And he interrupted us. Rude."

Max held his tongue.

"Didn't like him much, did you, Sasha?"

No reply.

Max heard a low thump.

"I said, did you, Sasha?"

After a pause, he heard his mum's cold, quiet reply.

"No. Not much. He had stupid hair."

Max stopped with his foot on the top stair. He turned around to look down the stairwell.

"Ha, you're right. He did have stupid hair. Stupid hair and a stupid fucking face."

"Shut up," Max said quietly.

Silence. Then his father appeared at the bottom of the stairs.

"What did you say?"

Max looked at his feet.

"What the fuck did you just say to me?"

"I said shut up about David," Max said.

He knew he had made a terrible mistake but the hot anger bubbling in his stomach made it worth it.

"You don't talk to me like that," his dad snarled, rolling up his sleeves and starting up the stairs. Sasha appeared and put a hand on his arm.

"Rahim," she murmured. "Don't."

Rahim grabbed Sasha's wrist. For a moment the thunderous look on his face made Max think he was going to strike her, but instead he took a deep breath and looked back at his son.

"Go to bed," he hissed. "Before I come up there and make you."

Relief flooding his body, Max sprinted to his room and slammed the door. He knew he had narrowly missed a bullet. He quickly got ready for bed, stopping on the landing when he heard his name from downstairs. He paused and listened intently.

"...only been back a minute and he's already being a little shit again," his father was saying. There was the sound of the clinking of bottles on the table. When his mother spoke she slurred.

"He's a fucking nightmare. I was busy. He interrupted me. I was so goddamned busy, Rahim. Busy! And he just comes in here... so fuckin..." the sound of bottles again. "Pass me that can." Pause. Click... "and he goes disrespecting you," she continued. "Fucking little prick."

"Yeah..."

Max went quietly to his room and tried to close the door without it making a sound so they wouldn't know he'd been listening. Then he got under the covers and pulled them up over his head, feeling every bit the piece of shit they called him.

He couldn't sleep even if he tried. He hadn't given in to tears yet, which he was impressed by. He lay in a tiny ball under the covers clutching Mr Honey Nuts, his heart dead and cold and his stomach squirming.

Suddenly he remembered the walkie talkie. He pulled it out and put it on his bedside table, but didn't use it. David had said only for an emergency, and things had been much worse than this in the past.

Max tried to shut off his mind. He shoved his nose in Mr Honey Nuts, inhaled the familiar comforting smell. It wasn't until about an hour later he finally drifted into a light sleep. 

Bang!

Max sat bolt upright and stared around to the door to see Sasha standing there, a bottle in her hand.

"You little shit," she growled, advancing. Max scooted up to the back of his bed, as far away from her she could get.

"Fuck off!" He shouted.

"You don't talk to me like that!" His mother screamed. "You interrupted us, then you talk back to your father, now you swear at me! You bloody fuck!" She took a running sweep at him but stumbled drunkardly and missed. Max leapt out of bed and tried to dodge her and go down the stairs, but she caught the back of his pyjamas.

"You're an insolent little bastard," she hissed in his ear. Max could smell the liquor on her breath. He remembered the last time she had drank this much... he still had the scars.

"Let go of me, you bitch!" He yelled, finding fight and confidence when he struggled against her grip.

She dropped the bottle on the floor. It smashed and the smell of vodka permeated the air. Max dimly wondered where his father was. Not that he would be much help... he would probably join in.

"You ungrateful little brat," his mother said. Hate laced her words. She raised her now empty hand and struck Max across the face.

"Fuck you!" He screamed, because he couldn't think of anything else to say, and volume stopped his voice cracking with fear. His cheek stung hot.

"Shut up!" Sasha yelled back. "Shut up shut up shut up!" She threw him bodily from her and he smacked onto the floor, winded. He lay there, wheezing, as his mother advanced, breathing heavily. She kicked him in the stomach and he screamed and curled in on himself. She drew her foot back and kicked him again, in the ribs, repeatedly, and Max cried out, tears finally stinging his eyes and falling freely.

Sasha finally fell back and stood over her son, a cowering wreck on the floor. She was panting as she leaned against the wall behind her, and then she grinned.

"You deserve this, you know that, Maxy?" She hissed. "You deserve everything you get." And she spat at his feet, then wretched and ran from the room to throw up.

Max sobbed in a ball on the floor, pain shooting through his stomach and sides. He looked up through bleary eyes and saw that his mother was gone, and he forced himself to take the chance while it was there.

He heaved himself onto his knees, crying out, and hobbled over to his bed. He snatched up the walkie talkie and the forced himself to his feet, clutching his stomach in one hand and the lifeline to David in the other.

Max got out of there as quickly as he could. He heard his mum being violently sick in the bathroom. His dad was no where to be seen, and his coat was gone from the rack.

Then, when he was outside his house, Max pulled the antenna up.