Hello. My name is Maxwell Cifer and I am seventeen. I live in a little town in the middle of nowhere called Hueco Mundo with my adoptive mother, Momilia Cifer. This is my story.
My life started when I was three years old, and Mom adopted me from the orphanage with her husband Zander. They were good to me and I was pretty happy until shortly after I turned ten. Zander started getting caught up in some sort of hallucinogenic drug about that time. I was too young to really understand why he did so, but I know now that the drugs instigated what would develop into full blown schizophrenia. All I really knew at the time was that he stopped smiling as much, yelled a lot more, and kept pulling me aside and whispering conspiracy theories. By the time we realized that something was truly wrong with him, he had already smashed Mom’s face into the wall, accusing her of being an imposter, a spy sent to take his son away from him. Zander is now staying in a high security rehab facility in the next city over, and is slated for prison time. We shouldn’t be seeing him for a very long time.
But Mom is sweet as sugar and always has been. I love her to pieces, so I do my best to be a good son to her. I get good grades, I help around the house, and I’m extra polite when we go out.
The only standard that I couldn’t meet was the social department. It’s not that she wanted me to be popular, but she was scared that I was lonely. I was always a quiet child, and after the incident with Zander, I withdrew into myself even further. I was enrolled in therapy sessions to make sure there was no lasting trauma, and my psychiatrist discovered that I had minor trust issues stemming from having been abandoned as an infant and watching my friends leaving all the time with new families. Mom worried about me sometimes, but I showed her that I was happy as I was and it reassured her.
And to be perfectly honest, I had no express need for friends anyway. In fact, the pure uselessness of friends was clearly illustrated to me whenever I attended my English class.
This is where my story truly begins.
I believe to this day that my teacher, Mr. Harrison, never had any control over that classroom. Don’t get me wrong, Mr. Harrison was a great guy and English was one of my favourite classes, but my classmates were idiots and sheep who couldn’t think for themselves. For future clarification, the desks were set up in rows perpendicular to the blackboard and teacher’s desk at the front of the room. Five rows from the door on the right to the window on the left, six desks per row. I sat in the third row, third desk back, and right smack in the middle of the room. Two rows over to my left and one desk up sat Jake Gerard, a brash redhead with a permanent scowl on his face. He was usually turned sideways in his chair and leaned against the wall, talking to Chad Miablo who sat behind him. Chad was huge, both tall and broad for his age, but incredibly soft spoken. He stuck to Jake like glue.
Between Chad and I was a guy named Sloan MacDaver. Sloan was usually quiet and did his work, but he had an annoying penchant for starting arguments with Jake. Loud, pointless arguments. Behind him was Savanna Mayberry, a small, dark haired girl with a large attitude. Her brother, Trent, is a year older, was the top of his class, and spoiled her rotten. I know all of this because she would never shut up about him. At any given moment, one could see her chatting about something he said or did to Sarah Branigan on her left, behind Chad. Sarah was sweet, if a tad ditzy, and always had some large, ornamental pin holding back her long, orange hair. It was common knowledge that she had a crush on Jake.
On my right, three desks back was a moron. His name was Derrick Danason. He used to sit next to Jake, but the constant fighting prompted a rare display of authority from Mr. Harrison. Then he argued one-sidedly with Brandon Killian, who was much mellower. Brandon sat between Derrick and the wall and in front of him was a young woman named Jessie Jameson. Anybody who saw her would swear she was Sarah’s older sister. She’s not. Two desks up from her was a guy named Nick Firkensen. He’s about as tall as Chad, but a lot lankier and it’s only because he’s a year older. Apparently he got held back a year for some reason. Anyway, next to him, two desks up from me on the right was Victor Jeagerjaques. He’s loud, disruptive and normally sat backwards in his chair, giving me a full view of his dyed electric blue hair and large sarcastic grin.
Of course, there were plenty of others but nobody else really mattered.
We had English last, so I would usually bolt right after the bell. I lived about 5 blocks away in a straight line so I just grabbed whatever I needed from my locker and left. One day, as I was standing at the corner waiting for the light to change, a jeep pulled up. I had seen it in the school parking lot before, but couldn’t recall who drove the dark green hunk of junk until the window rolled down and out leaned Victor himself. I could make out Nick sitting at the wheel, hunched over just enough to give the impression that the car roof was too low for his head. I ignored the pair of them until Victor whistled at me. Like a dog. I turned to tell him off but he interjected.
“You dropped this on your way out,” he said as he threw a book at me. I caught it and realised it was the newest novel that I had just purchased. Flipping through it to ensure he hadn’t drawn or written anything obscene (as I had seen him do several times with other people’s things), I thanked him and he responded with another grin. “No problem. When you’re finished I’ll lend you the sequel.” As I stared in shock at this guy who actually read books, the window rolled back up and they drove away. The light had changed.
First thing I noticed when I got home is that there was a cop car in my driveway. That’s never a good sign. I knew that I probably didn’t want to hear about whatever had happened and the possibilities swirled about in my head, each more ridiculously far fetched than the previous.
I needed to stop reading science fiction.
I found Mom and the officer in question in the living room. I could tell immediately that something had happened with Zander as Mom’s shoulders only hunched like that when he was mentioned. It looked like she was trying to curl up in a ball while at the same time trying to stay upright. She turned to me and I saw the confirming mix of fear and despair in her eyes.
“We have some bad news, sweetie. Zander has escaped from the rehab facility. Nobody knows where he is.” My blood ran cold and my knees went weak. I slumped on to the couch, staring blindly at floor, barely registering the security measures that the officer was describing. The only thing that had allowed me to keep from morphing into a paranoid wreck was the fact that Zander was under lock and key. If he was loose, then nowhere felt safe anymore. I managed to keep from breaking down that night through pure force of will and the fact that Mom was trying so hard to do the same. I lost myself in the false reality of my book. As I was lying in bed that night, I somehow talked myself into the delusion that we could make it through this. That Zander was smart enough to leave. That Mom and I would be okay. We could make it through this.
The next day at school was pretty much the same as the many before it until, of course, English class. Sarah and Savanna were gossiping like normal until Savanna brought up some comment from Trent about a jail break.
“He said that just because the people there were mentally ill, it did not mean they were stupid, and the guards should take more precautions with keeping them contained. Now this Cifer guy, Zander I think his name was, is loose on the street.” Sarah blinked.
“Cifer? Isn’t that Maxwell’s last name?” Suddenly the whole room was looking at me, waiting for me to acknowledge the comment, to confirm or deny. I sighed and attempted to ignore them. After about five or so minutes somebody coughed in that irritating way that said ‘We’re waiting!’
“Fine. Zander was my father. I don’t want to discuss it.” As the class exploded into further gossip and assumption, Victor’s eyes caught mine. I couldn’t read his face, but I thought I saw worry in his eyes. Then he turned to talk to Nick and I got distracted by Sarah trying to apologize. She chased me halfway home like that.
The next day, we got a notice from the teacher that Sarah was in the hospital. She was in critical condition and it was currently unknown if she would live or die. Sarah had been found in a ditch near the conservation area, covered in blood and multiple stab wounds, with a note pinned to the front of her blouse.
KEEP AWAY FROM MY SON
Cold dread curdled in my stomach. It definitely had something to do Zander.
Later that day, at the exact same corner as before, Nick and Victor stopped and rolled down the window.
“Look, can we give you a ride? Kinda figured that you’d wanna get from A to B fast as possible.” Victor asked. I glanced across the road. It was only another couple blocks, but I had to pass the conservation area. That was all forest, plenty of hiding places for crazy, stalking fathers.
“Sure. I’ll take a ride.”
It was all of two minutes in the car, during which I actually had a legitimate conversation with Victor about the book I was reading. It was fun. I could tell that this was to become a routine.
I found myself getting along with Victor more than I ever thought I would. I learned that he took judo lessons and liked reading Sherlock Holmes. He discovered that I could speak fluent Spanish and begged for tutoring. But most of all, he gave off this sense that everything was going to be okay no matter what, and that was something that I had really needed. That’s why I never turned down his advances, even though I knew it was dangerous for both of us.
Not just for us though, for all of Victor’s friends as well. It seemed that if Victor accepted me, then the others would too. A few were nervous of me at first, and with what had just happened to Sarah, I couldn’t blame them. Sloan was the last to warm up me, but in the end, the only one that didn’t was Savanna. If I showed up at the lunch table, she would leave for the one her brother was at. She was looking out for herself and her family so I wasn’t offended, but at the same time, it still kind of hurt.
Jake told me to ignore her; she was a pain in the butt anyway. I decided that I liked the casualness in him and the way he slung his arm over my shoulders, like we were long time buddies. When Derrick came over and did the same, it felt a little awkward, because then they started arguing over my head. Chad smiled at me apologetically. I rolled my eyes back at him.
Two days later, Jake was found dead and Derrick was missing.
Zander was being classed as a serial killer and my new found friends suddenly held me at arms length. All day I was completely miserable, and it was only made worse by the fact that I was avoiding Victor. He kept trying to talk to me, and I wanted so badly to talk to him, but it just wasn’t safe. I was not going to risk his life for my own self satisfaction. Not any more than I already had.
When the last bell finally rang, I thought I could finally get home and barricade myself in my room, but it was not meant to be. I was almost off school property when I was being dragged back by my jacket collar. I turned, fully prepared to fend off Zander.
It was Trent Mayberry and Chad Miablo.
I was so shocked that it took a minute to register that Trent was yelling about how his sister locked herself in her room and wouldn’t stop crying. She had been incredibly close to Sarah, and both siblings had known Jake and Derrick for years.
Chad was yelling about how he owed his sanity to Jake. Back in middle school, Chad had constantly been made fun of for his size. It had gotten to the point that he was about to snap, and tear apart the kid nearest him, when Jake did it for him. The problem was that Jake was never any bigger or stronger than any other kid, but he was scrappier and took on most of the bullies by himself. He proceeded to get the snot beat out of him, but Chad would never forget that Jake was always on his side.
Jake was dead, Sarah dying, and God-knows-what was happening to Derrick at that very moment.
And in their eyes, it was all my fault.
I should have disappeared the moment Zander broke out of prison. What possessed me to return to school? How dare I attempt to get close to people, to innocent bystanders? What was I trying to do, find meat shields to hide behind? If I had an ounce of self respect, I would skip town or hang myself or something that would get this terror off their backs. Because this was all my fault.
The worse part of it was that there was nothing that I could say to deny any of it. Trent and Chad were right, it was my fault. I had been too much of a delusional coward to leave. Chad circled behind me to box me in and Trent pulled his fist back, and aimed. I would have been heading home with at the very least a broken nose, if Victor hadn’t jumped in at the last minute. Of course, judo lessons. He caught Trent’s fist and told me get out of there right away. It took me a second to regain control of my legs, before I took off. I didn’t see the fight, but the sounds of fists hitting bodies followed me even when I was out of earshot.
I must have looked terrible when I came home, because Mom was immediately fussing over me. She thought that it was about Derrick and Jake. I didn’t want her to worry any more than she was, so I didn’t say a word about Trent and Chad. I was allowed to skip our traditional family meal, and Mom brought me my favourite pasta dish to eat in my room.
Mom had me stay home from school the next day, for which I was grateful. I didn’t want to face Trent or Chad and I couldn’t allow myself to see Victor. That didn’t stop me from hearing on the news about how Chad’s apartment complex was burned down, none dead but several critically injured including Chad himself, and that the Mayberry household was broken into. Trent was in the hospital, Savanna as well. The police finally found Derrick’s body.
My staying home also didn’t stop Victor from coming to see me. I tried to turn him away but he was rather persistent and in the end I had to let him in and pray that Zander was not watching. Up in my room, he told me flat out that just because my father was psycho, did not mean he was going to stop being my friend. He wasn’t afraid.
I looked at him, taking stock of the bandage on his arm and the bruise on his cheek and limp in his step. This boy fought for me and fought hard. How could I turn that away? Victor stayed for dinner that night.
Mom offered to drive him home but he refused. It wasn’t yet completely dark and he didn’t live far. He would be fine.
We should have driven him.
Not an hour later, after Mom had gone to bed, the phone rang. Thinking that it was another update from the cops, I picked up.
“Hello Maxwell. It’s so nice to hear you again.” My blood ran cold at the sound of Zander’s voice. “I’m waiting for you at the old warehouse. It’s the only place nobody thought to look.” The old warehouse sat on the edge of town, a four story tall wreck of a building surrounded by pavement, rather close to the school. Both Mom and Zander signed a petition to have it bulldozed. Obviously the petition failed. The police wouldn’t have checked there because why would Zander hide in a place he wanted destroyed? It made sense. “I’ll be at the inside staircase if you want to talk. Please hurry, I miss you.”
This was the only shot I was going to get. I would have to deal with Zander myself. Careful to not wake Mom, I snuck out of the house and bolted for the warehouse. I don’t think I ever ran so fast in my life. But I had to do this, I had to stop him. My friends were dying all around me. I had to do something. The warehouse was just around the next turn.
I rounded the corner and came face to face with Victor motionless on the ground in front of the entrance.
I couldn’t breathe. Victor had taken judo for years; he shouldn’t have been able to be taken down. I forced myself forward and kneeled next to him. From the blossoming bruise on the left side of his face near his temple, I knew he had taken a hit to the head. Moving him could be dangerous, so I carefully reached for his wrist and checked for a pulse.
I sighed in relief when I felt the weak but persistent pump of blood through his veins. He was still alive. Very quickly, I found his phone and called an ambulance. Giving them his name and location, I made my voice dwindle and body fall, before slipping the phone into his hand, giving the impression that he had called himself before falling unconscious. I left the phone connected and went to find Zander.
He was right where he said he would be. He sat on the stairs that led straight to the roof and smiled calmly at me.
“Hello Maxwell. How have you been? Did you miss your father?” He was acting as if he had been away on business for a week, instead of breaking out of rehab prison and terrorizing a town. I gulped.
Still smiling, he stood up and gestured me to follow him up the stairs. Deciding to play along for a little while, I did so. As we walked, Zander started talking to me about how much he missed me. He mentioned being unable to approach me because of annoying girls who followed me home and idiots who clung to me. He was talking about Sarah, Jake, and Derrick. Then he started in on bullies at school and how their parents ought to know better than to let them have anything they want. It was Chad and the Mayberry siblings. A chill ran up my spine, though, when he shifted to reckless, rebellious, punks who purposely got between fathers and their sons.
Victor.
We arrived at the roof. I could see police cruisers, and the beginnings of a crowd. I knew Mom would be there somewhere or at least on her way. Zander was still talking to me. He said that the people of this town were prejudiced against him because he thought differently. If we were to be the family that we were meant to be, we would have to run away. If we were found, they would separate us again. Our options were to run together or die together.
I stood atop the warehouse roof and I looked at Zander. He wasn’t going to rest until I had agreed to be his pet or we both died. I looked out over the parking lot, the cop cars, the bystanders, and picked my mother’s worried, tear stained face out of the crowd. What would he have done to her if I continued to defy him? I thought about Sarah, who never hurt anyone. About Jake and Derrick, both of whom would kill to protect their friends. About Chad, who would never be able to walk again. About Trent, who flew into a rage on his little sister’s behalf and Savanna, who for once didn’t care that she was worrying her brother.
All of these people had been sacrificed by a madman who was convinced that they were getting in the way of him being with his son.
I knew what I had to do.
I turned to Zander who was patiently waiting for me to make my decision. I took a step back, closer to the edge.
“Father, I want to die.”
Zander nodded at me, like this was a completely normal request. He walked toward me and took my hand. We stepped off the edge.
I wasn’t really sure what happened next. I had closed my eyes. My hands rose above my head, due to some physics law I could never be bothered with, and suddenly my body felt like it was being torn in two. The hand that Zander was clinging to jerked free and I felt myself being hauled back up onto the roof. I opened my eyes.
Victor, the loud, disruptive, sarcastic rebel from my English class had saved my life.
I was dimly aware of the sound of Zander’s body making contact with the tarmac below, but I was too caught up in the fact that my plan had both failed and succeeded at the same time.
Victor had saved me.
The next few hours were a blur of lights, sounds and faces. I remember giving a statement to a police officer, and I remember sitting in an ambulance. But mostly I remember that, through all of it, Victor refused to let go of the wrist he had caught me with.
To this day, I doubt he will ever let me go. I hope he doesn’t.
THE END