Psychopath

Freak show. Anti-social punk. Psychopath.

"I've been called worse," That would be his reply whenever an insult like that was thrown at him.

He wasn't the regular delinquent boy you would see everyday. He was different. A lot different.

Maxwell circled around collecting his things thrown around the room for school. His parents were hardly ever home and his older brother always overslept. The fourteen year old put on a pair of black jeans, a white shirt, and his black and blue hoodie. After feeding the dog he left for school. He normally took the bus to school but today he was in no rush.

As he was walking his surroundings felt more different. He could feel eyes staring at him. He doesn't get this feeling often because he chooses to ignore everything around him with his imagination.

***

" I wish I was the last person left on this dump," Maxwell thought. " I wouldn't have to listen to any annoying, dreading-"

" Mr. Renbell," the math teacher called. " Do you mind solving the problem up here?"

Maxwell walked up to the chalkboard. He stared at the problem he was given for a long time. Math wasn't his best subject. The chalk shook in his fingers. Suddenly, a few numbers popped up in his head. Those few numbers were the ones he wrote down.

The math teacher went over the answer and gave a look of shock. " Looks like you might have actually studied overnight Mr. Renbell...have you?"

" No." Max went back to his seat and sat his head down.

" What's going on with me today," he whispered to himself.

Later on during lunch he stared down at a table when Delvin Roberts walked by.

Delvin snickered. " Hey look, it's Maxy. Do you think Maxy may be deaf 'cuz it doesn't seem like he can hear very much."

Max ignored him.

" Maybe he can't feel anything either," Delvin suggested.

Delvin took the ice tea bottle in his hand and poured the ice cold liquid on top of Max's head.

" He's still not moving," One of his followers said. " Maybe you should double check."

Delvin placed his palm onto Max's wet head. " Nah, my bud's just a bit sleepy."

Without thinking Max grabbed Delvins wrist and pushed it off of him giving a tense look in his eyes. The bully flinched but then scowled at Max. " Finally awake, eh?"

" Touch me again, I dare you," Max threatened.

Delvin ignored him, " Maybe if you jump off the building your next life will be less depressing, freak."

Max finally lost it. Before he knew it he was on his knees punching Delvin in the face over and over again.

Delvin grabbed Max wrist for a short moment, " Get the heck off of me you, Psychopath!"

Max shoved his hands away and continued punching him. As he kept going Delvin began to bleed and Max's fist hurt. The same word rang over and over in Max's head.

The voice sang, " Die, die, die, die!"

This voice was his own.

A staff member had to come and pull him away from the beat up boy. Max tried to fight back but he was too tired. Other kids were silent or whispering while Max had a devilish smile on his face.

In the principal's office he stared at his hands that still had some stains. His head pounded and his knuckles felt sore. Some of Delvins blood was still stained on his hands. A few minutes later his mother came in. She was about to sit down but the principal stood from his chair.

" Y-You don't have to sit M-Ms. Renbell," the man stuttered. " Please just...control your son, alright? I know Delvin had some disgusting words come out of his mouth but that does not mean he shouldn't use his hands like that."

The principal sighed and continued, " He's on a five day suspension...you may go."

Outside Max walked right past his mothers car and began walking down the street. He didn't bother looking back and his mom didn't call or chase after him. She knew he sometimes had moments like this and came running back home, but this is the first time it was because he had gotten in "trouble" and then walked away.

Six hours later Max was sitting on the curb outside a gas station thinking, " Why can't you just be normal?"

Max has always been this way. He didn't feel comfortable around people. He felt as if this world wasn't right for him. He wanted to enter a different world. One where he can feel like he can open up without being judged or being called a " Psychopath."

Max checked his cellphone which he hardly ever used. It was already seven PM. He got up and began to walk home. As soon as he walked through the house door he took off his shoes and made his way to the bathroom. He looked in the mirror and ran his fingers through his sticky black hair. There were dark circles starting to form under his eyes. After he washed his hair and hoodie he covered himself in blankets and flopped into bed.

He managed to fall asleep for five hours but woke up to two voices yelling: Mother and Father.

" He's a problem!," Max's father yelled. " He's making this family look bad. He's got to go!"

Hearing those words made Max's chest ache.

" He's your son, how can you say something like that!?," mom yelled back. " You should be trying to help him not get rid of him!"

" You saw what he did to that boy. The kid's face looks disconnected. His parents will probably press charges against us. That's the last thing I have to deal with."

" He's being B-!," mother was cut off.

" I DON'T CARE HE'S LEAVING!," Dad bellowed.

Max felt his anger rising. He clutched his blanket and bit his tongue. He could hear his room door slam open. His father ripped the blankets off of him.

" UP!," he demanded. " GET UP."

Max got up and went into the living room. He looked at his mother from the corner of his left eye. Tears were forming in her eyes.

He gritted his teeth and turned to his dad, " Some father you are choosing some stupid business that's not gonna go anywhere over your own son. You're pathetic!"

" YOU LITTLE FREAK!," Father yelled.

He grabbed his son by the collar and sent a hard punch to his face making Max crash into the coffee table knocking it over and cracking the glass. The vase on the table fell next to him completely shattering. He let his father beat him with feet and fist. His nose bled and he had a busted lip. His knuckles ached as he clenched his fist and so did his ribs and back.

As his father beating and cussing at him all the times he's been misunderstood or treated like some troubled kid who deserved a beating came back to him.

He remembered the time in sixth grade when the English teacher had an after school talk with his father about him not being social. That night he took two hard slaps to the face.

"You're an embarrassment!," he remembered his father yelling. " Keep being a bother and see what happens then."

It's something he just can't control. No, he can, he doesn't want to.

" Eli isn't home," he thought. " Mom went outside with Benjo."

He can hear his dogs barking from outside. Suddenly, the objects in the living room began to shake. Glass shattered onto the ground. And pictures fell from the wall. His entire body began to heat up. His eyes then began to give off a purple glow.

That's when the explosion went off taking the house, his father, and him with it.

***

He could hear sirens in the distance and fire crackling. Smoke burned his lungs and nostrils. He felt his eyes open but couldn't see anything. As his consciousness began to fade again the same part of a song came over and over in his head. The song was called Heathens by Twenty one Pilots.

Max wanted to laugh. He didn't find anything funny, he just wanted to laugh. Laugh at his father and everyone who spat at his existence. He didn't know what to call this feeling but he enjoyed it and hated it at the same time. Before he passed out he stood up with all the strength he had. He stared down at a body on the floor. It looked like a burnt skeleton. The "Burnt skeleton" began to crumble and turn to dust.

There were loud voices of men coming from outside. They began to get louder and Louder. There was yelling demanding for him not to move. Max looked at his feet. There was fire everywhere except around him. He took one step and blacked out.