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Mr Grady, his gym coach. Mrs Lorris, his homeroomteacher. The old geezer who mopped out the hallway back in gradeschool, the one who used to call him 'Rosebud' under his breath. Jesus,his own parents on occasion, when his effeminate ways embarrassed themin public. How could he explain that to her, make her see what an ugly,pointless waste his existence had become?She already knows.The thought flashed across his mind like summer lightning: she knew.She'd always known. She'd known from the morning he'd stepped acrossThe Shop's tiled threshold five years ago. Even then, she'd knowneverything about him, known him better than his own Mother. Every hair,every pore, every flickering eyelash. The Tarot had told her, whisperedhis story through her gliding fingertips, slowly disrobing his fragilesoul until he was left naked and shivering in the night."You already know what I want," he said, his voice wavering on theverge of tears."Yes." Her tone was calm, unperturbed, almost serene. Robbie. He noticed a couple of times going past the same locality. Seeing this, he released a loud scream in frustration. Max was cold, hungry and very tired. He needed to rest a while.Glancing around, he noticed something in the distance. It was a derelict cabin. Only the old wooden frame was intact with a Corrugated metal roof, just covering half of the skyline. The Window was hanging on the frame, and the door was missing. Inside there was a rusted metal bed frame with a filthy mattress on top. The bed sheltered under the part of the roof which was not damaged. Max decided to rest for a couple of hours. Under a section of the roofing which fell in, underneath was a dirty canvas tent sheet. Grabbing the piece of canvas, he climbed onto the bed. Covering himself, he curled up into a ball. Trying to warm up from the cold night. Slowly drifted off to sleep.The loud scream in the forest made him come to a halt. Chris scanned the area in which the noise sounded. Coming off the road, he.
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