Camp Cannibal: A Camp Camp Fanfic

Boy of Prey

Thirty minutes later, Max awoke once more.

An ice pack had been placed on his head and the nightstand beside him had a glass of water and a small fan running on medium.

For a moment, Max relished in the tranquility if it all.

Then he remembered Matthew.

"HOLY SHIT-!" shouted the Indian child.

Throwing the sheets off to the side, he jumped rapidly out of the Counselor's cabin bed and stood to run to the door. Then he went light-headed.

Max's world tilted back and forth like a seesaw. In the distance, loud familiar footsteps approached quickly. He fell to his knees and swayed dizzily, leaning forward until he fell to his chest. Laying on the floor, his earth continued to spin irregularly. He was seeing double, no TRIPLE vision. He desperately attempted to blink away the clones of everything, taking deep breaths in and out. The footsteps continued to get closer, echoing loudly with every approach until they became a numb ringing in the back of his head.

Suddenly, a familiar laugh rippled through the air like the song from a broken wind chime. Max's eyes shot open and caught sight of shoes he swore he'd seen before. His breath hitched. He looked up.

Matt stood above him calmly, hands stuffed into the pockets of his pearlish blue sweatshirt as if he was hiding something. His violet eyes glimmered in the firey orange sunlight pouring through the window and his hair was a muddy brownish gold. 

He was also bloody. Very bloody.

His sweatshirt was soaked around the waistline with the stuff and his forearms, including his sleeves, were red, wet and sticky, like honey mixed with watered-down paint. His face, particularly around his mouth, was painted with the crimson paste. It was even running down his neck and into his shirt. His black jeans were clinging to his legs, their color having gotten somehow darker from the thick scarlet milk-like liquid. They were so full of it that they even squished with every movement and blood pooled onto the floor.

As Matt caught Max's gaze, he smiled menacingly, flashing his bloodstained dog-like teeth for the world to see. 

"Don't get ahead of yourself now, little boy," hummed Matthew ominously. "You might just get someone killed."

Suddenly Matt unsheathed a blood soaked butcher knife from his pocket. There were bits and pieces of raw flesh hanging from the edge and stuck around the hilt. The burning yellow sky outside glimmered violently off of the cold red steel. Matt toyed playfully with the weapon as if it posed no threat, gently running his finger tips over the edges of the blade. His smile grew wider making Max shiver in terror. 

Max felt like he was being weighed down, forced to the ground by some immense invisible force. He was muted again out of fear. He prayed internally that someone, anyone, even DAVID, would come in and see Matt for the sick fuck that he is. He prayed someone would help him before this bastard child carved and gutted him like he had the poor man last night in the woods.

However, the longer he stared at Matt's bloody form, he began to think that there was no one left to save him.

Abruptly, Matt keeled down on one knee and leaned in close to Max's face, keeping that disgusting smile plastered on his face. He pointed his butcher knife directly in front of Max's eye, so scarcely close to piercing it. Max began to hyperventilate with horror.

This is it. He was gonna die. No matter how much he struggled or shook or rejected this situation, his body had other rebellious plans.

Perhaps this is karma.

 Max, in spite of himself, felt tears begin to sting his eyes and flow down his face. This made Matt, the sick bastard, smile even wider, which Max didn't think was possible.

"Don't be scared little guy," purred the crazed killer as if talking to a pet. "This will be quick and easy if you don't act like the little shit you always are!"

With that, Matt pressed his open hand down harshly on Max's head, muffling him against the floor. He then raised his knife high into the air, summoning all of his strength into his arm. Max watched with baited breath as the knife shimmered viciously, Matt stalling more as to increase the tension.

"Night night," muttered Matt quietly, throwing his arm down violently, slicing Max's neck with the knife.

Max woke with a start, panting and sobbing heavily. Tears were running down his face like waterfalls and his chest ached badly as it expanded and retracted with each desperate heaving breath.

"S-shit," coughed Max painfully. He could barely breathe.

His headache was pounding hard against his skull but he could care less. Wiping the tears from his face with his arm, he slowly rose to his feet and shuffled slowly to the door. He snatched his blue sweatshirt from coat rack on the way.

Before opening the door, he was hit with a jarring coughing fit. His body was in agony and he was miserable, more so than he had been before. His ears began ringing again. 

Finally, he opened the door.

And Matt was standing right there.

Max screamed in terror and threw himself back, trying to scramble away. Matt smiled a sadistic smile as he watched this display, trying to stifle a chuckle as Max crawled to the other end of the room.

"What's wrong, Maxwell?" Asked the monster sarcastically. "Are you scared?"

The boy in wolf's clothing then turned around and called out.

"DAVID! GET OVER HERE, QUICKLY! MAX IS HAVING A PANIC ATTACK!" 

Before walking away, Matt smiled cruelly at Max once more and stepped out of sight.

The last thing Max's foggy mind registered before shutting down again was David and Gwen running to his aid, panic and concern evident on their faces.