David | camp camp

It was.. difficult at home, to say the least. He never really got along with his parents. Hell, they're barely in the picture, especially his dad. His dad is completely absent, unaware that he even exists. Max just says that he was two shitty parents to everyone. It's not technically wrong, it was just easier to explain it that way as he hates talking about his parents as a whole as it is, and it's even more complex when his father isn't even there and his mom is a complete bitch. So, it just easier to summarize them up as just 'shitty parents' to everyone.

Max had been dealing with the same thing over and over again. The neglect, the manipulation, the guilt tripping, the yelling, the emotional neglect, the emotional and mental abuse, it was all too much, very much so when you've been dealing with that same shit for years and years on end. He remembered everything that's happened, as if it just never leaves him, no matter what he does. He remembers how when he always gets sick, his throat having that sharp pain to it, that lump that would never leave his throat, how his nose was stuffed, barely able to breathe through it, how his head throbbed painfully, making him nauseous and dizzy, how his lungs would hurt, as if he's drowning, but most of all, he remembers how his mom didn't care, didn't do much of anything. It was always 'Did you drink medicine?', 'How bad is it?', but, he wasn't ever taken care of. His mom just got upset most of the time, as if he was some burden for getting sick, something he never had control over. He got sick pretty easily. Probably from having a shit immune system, or how his mom barely brought him for vaccines. He's got a few, but not enough to do anything.

He also remembers how when he was younger, his mom was barely at home, always constantly working or either out with her friends. So, that left Max alone with his grandma who.. was something. He doesn't like her. But mostly, half of the time he'd be left alone with some random babysitter. Regardless of that, Max took care of himself. He learned how to cook himself, learned how to clothe himself, learnt how to handle himself, learnt to stick to himself, all of that. His mom was rarely there, and when she was, she'd get angry at him for 'acting out', for showing his emotions, figuring that he's 'overdramatic', too much to handle, too much to take care of.

God, he could go on for days, weeks, maybe even years. He barely even scratched the surface. He supposed that's why it's practically impossible to tell or even talk to anyone about this, to even get help, to leave this goddamn house he hates so much. I mean, who'd believe him, right? He needs evidence for every little thing because 'no one cares about abuse or neglect unless it's physical' or some bullshit. It feels so damn hard, like no one will listen, or even remotely understand. Sure, David and Gwen knows.. barely. They still believe that his parents 'care but don't know how to show it' crap as if they know anything. He's talked to Neil about almost everything, but, regardless, he knows Neil wouldn't completely understand, thinking that Neil just pitys him at this point.

It's hard to think of anyone who would actually understand, to get what he's going through. And honestly? It's exhausting. He's had to talk to countless therapists, say the same shit over and over again as they continue to do absolutely nothing.

It got really bad one night. Max had ran away again, just to get away for a bit, running off to Neil's house. That clearly set off Max's mom as it made her look bad, so she began yelling at him, doing her same tactics to get him to 'behave and just shut up.' But Max fought back, snapping and lashing out. Soon enough, he ran up to his room, holding back tears that desperately threatened to spill out. He grabbed an old, worn out, black backpack, stuffing his important belongings in there along with clothes. And quietly, carefully, he escaped out of the house, clenching the backpack close to him.

He then threw the backpack carelessly over his shoulders as he reached into his jeans pocket, pulling out his phone. He scrolled through his contacts, trying to piece together who to reach out to. His family was definitely out of the question. They all suck. His friends, Nikki and Neil? No. He'd rather not bother them again. Then, his thumb hovered over the name. David.

Max hesitated, his hands shaking while he blinked back any potential tears that were going to fall. Almost immediately, he stuffed his phone back into his jeans pocket without thinking. He ran off, bolting towards the direction of David's house. He memorized the route to David's house because..- for blackmail purposes, of course.

And after about 30 minutes of running through horrible, cold, windy weather at the middle of the night almost, he arrived at David's doorstep. He hesitated, standing there for a good moment, contemplating his actions before he raised his fist, knocking on David's front door.

David opened the door rather quickly, being a very light sleeper. He groggily brought his gaze towards towards Max, sleepily speaking up. "Oh, hey Max.." David said, almost as if this was this was the most normal situation in the world before he spoke up again, realizing that MAX was at his door at a late hour. "..Wait. Max!? Come in, it's going to strom tonight!" David spoke quickly, concern immediately filling his voice.