Chapter Text
The Hillbilly knew his way around a chainsaw. It was one of his weapons of choice, and it was something that he was intimately familiar with. Accidents were rare with that beast of his, but not unheard of. Tripping hazards were everywhere, just as walls in strange places, and any number of odd bits sticking out here, there, and everywhere. Most times, he’s able to catch himself before he falls, preventing any serious injury from occurring. Other times, however…
Just another trial… Max told himself as the Entity tossed survivor after survivor onto the land of his family home. It wasn’t anything personal, he had a job to do as much as they did, even if his emotions did flare during trial. Flush them off of gens, separate them all, down one, hook, rinse and repeat… It certainly was as monotonous as it was monstrous. He didn’t blame them for despising him. And Max didn’t blame them for teasing him when he accidentally hurt himself.
Sometimes it was difficult to stay focused. It was tiring doing the same thing, day in and day out, and mistakes were bound to happen sooner or later. This time, it was Max that made a critical error. It was the same old, same old, but the survivors were being extra annoying this trial. Three were moving together, using one another to loop him, stun him with pallets, attempting to blind him with a flashlight (they failed, but it still annoyed him), and all around being a nuisance. It was getting old, fast, and Max was on the verge of doing one of two things: losing his temper and raging, or having a nervous breakdown and crying. There was no in between, and that emotional imbalance was what caused him to lose control.
It should have been an easy down. You, a new survivor, had cornered yourself in the shack, and the pallet there was already broken. You couldn’t loop him forever, and Max was past the point of being professional. All he wanted to do was make you hurt- make you cry, like he had felt like doing all trial. You were losing steam, fast , and soon, you made a mistake. You had misjudged the distance between the door and the open window, and ended up running face first into the wall. That’s it! Revving his chainsaw, Max quickly closed the distance to the survivor. Just as he was about to nail you with his chainsaw-!
...he tripped on a warped board partially sticking up from the floor of the shack.
Max fell just short of Meg, the chainsaw thankfully thrown away from his body, landing against the shack’s wall with a loud clash of it’s soon powered down blades. You were most likely already long gone, and Max was left laying face down on the cold, uncomfortable wooden floor. Warm, stinging pain blooms in his right leg, somewhere between his knee and shin. Something inside of him was beyond its breaking point. Through gritted teeth, Max takes in several sharp, uneven breaths in a vain attempt to calm himself. He knows what’s about to happen… Balling his fingers into a fist, he weakly hits the floor, once, twice, three times before it simply becomes too much to bear. Curling in on himself, he cries.
And cries, and cries, and cries.
It’s beyond pathetic, that much he knows. It was one of the only things his parents ever taught him: he is pathetic… But once he started, he couldn’t stop it, no matter how hard he tried. He didn’t care about the damn trial anymore. He didn’t care that he would be severely punished for not sacrificing anyone. It’s always the same… Bitter resentment bubbled up inside of him. This was no different from then… Max truly was an unwanted child. He didn’t belong anywhere. I don’t belong… There’s no- I don’t- I can’t… He felt sick. He wished it was over already. They’re all probably watching me… Making fun of me… Everyone hates me. Everyone… Including me… Max doesn’t care anymore. It’ll be over soon enough, then he can go back home and just- just- …?
There are eyes on him. Max is very familiar with the feeling. Sourness settled over him. Why can’t they just leave me the hell alone..? He should run them off, maybe just get a hit in, but… Max just doesn’t have the energy to do anything. They’ll grow bored soon enough if he lays there quietly. It always worked on his parents, surely it would work on survivors, too-
“H-Hey…”
He froze. Did- Was that- No, no, who ever that is, they must be talking to another survivor-
“Y-You’re b-bleeding…”
Max’s eyes snapped open, but he remained still. Why… What..? What is he supposed to do? Why point that out? Are they mocking me..? They really do hate me… Tears pricked his eyes once more. He should lash out, scare them away, do something , but… He’s so tired… Covering his head with his arms, he turns over and away from the direction of the voice. Surely they’ll get the message and leave him alone-
“I- um… h-have a medkit here… I- uh, s-saw how the other’s were treating you and it was- “
... This is a joke, right? Max doesn’t move a muscle, sure that this was a weak bid to get him to look up and be met with… with… His body ached with distant memories of the past. People were cruel. He knew this, knew what they were capable of. If I stay quiet, they’ll- it’ll-
“...I’m so sorry… H-Here, I… I’ll just l-leave this here. I’m- It wasn’t-”
Max stiffened, unable to stop himself from glancing over his shoulder to sneak a quick peek at you. He…actually recognized you. You… were the only one that wasn’t terrible. You never used a flashlight, never really hit him with pallets repeatedly , and over all just tried to be as non-toxic as you can be, given the situation. You were standing in a doorway, looking rather timid, but- Huh. You do have a medkit… Max rose up, wincing at how his leg burned in protest. You raised your hands, quietly going on about how he shouldn’t be moving so much- Max couldn’t really make out much of what you were saying. His ears were ringing slightly, and he was a bit in shock. You said ‘sorry’... He was chasing you and- You… You…
You slowly lowered yourself to the floor, careful to keep ample distance so as to not upset the killer further. The others told you that they were all heartless monsters, but… that can’t possibly be true. Heartless monsters don’t cry when they’re in pain or when they’re sad. Monsters don’t make themselves look small when they are scared. Monsters don’t cower before things that are clearly smaller and weaker than they are. You didn’t see a monster sitting on the floor in front of you. All you saw was a terrified, traumatized boy that was desperate for a gentle soul. Opening the kit, you fish out some padding and gauze, carefully presenting them to him.
“H-Here, for your l-leg..? Um, I’d do it for you, but I-I don’t know if you’d like me t-touching you…” You couldn’t conceal how your hand trembled. It would be a lie to say that you weren’t scared even a little bit, but you did want to help him. Noticing your unease, but your conviction to help him remain, Max slowly took the medical supplies from you, snatching it away a little faster than he originally meant too, but was relieved that you didn’t immediately flee after giving it to him. Huh… He’s… glad you’re still here? He absentmindedly inspected the gauze you handed him, trying to understand what it was that he was feeling. You’re… being kind to him. And he likes it. Why?
Hesitating for a moment, Max begins to bandage his leg, ignoring the conflicting feelings worming their way inside his chest. It was a sloppy patch job, but it’ll hold well enough. Staring at his feet, he worries the helm of his tattered shirt. “...should go…”
You furrow your brows. “W-Wha-?” Max shakes his head, clearing his throat.
“You should go. Gate’s about to open, I reckon…” He shrugs, scooting back so he’s resting against the wall of the shack. You paused, looking him up and down before looking away.
“...won’t you be punished for not sacrificing anyone?” Max frowned. Why would you care? You’re a survivor, that’s-
“...does it matter?” It was your turn to frown this time. It wasn’t his callous brush off that hurt you, rather the hopeless acceptance that got under your skin.
“Of course it does…” You murmur under your breath. Your eyes became downcast. It wasn’t fair. Everyone has given up on getting out of here…
“...If you don’t go, then the Entity will take you by force, you know…” He doesn’t look at you, but you shrug, anyways. You’ve been sacrificed a handful of times already, and the horror of it all was already becoming rather mute to you, sadly enough. In the distance, the toll of the endgame collapse rang out over the Thompson Farm. You pick idly at the dirt under your nails, before standing up. You placed the medkit down in front of you and turned to leave. Max didn’t understand what you stood to gain from being nice to him. Nothing that you said or did will change the fact that he’ll have to sacrifice you in trials. But you were kind anyway. And you left the remainder of that kit behind…
A chill raced down his spine. He could already feel the Entity’s displeasure with him. Oh well… What’s one more day of suffering compared to an entire lifetime filled with it..? It was coming any second now. Those bastards are waiting until the very last second to leave, aren’t they? Max didn’t understand what they got out of being so horrible. At least you were kind… Max braced himself for whatever the Entity planned to do to him. Relive painful memories? Something more… physical? He held his breath, preparing for the worst-!
A distant scream echoed in the distance before it was abruptly cut off suddenly with an unnaturally loud crunch! Max’s heart fell along with his stomach. Was- no, you didn’t. But you did. You didn’t escape, knowing that there would be hell to pay if there were no sacrifices this trial. Nausea swept over Max. He couldn’t place what he was feeling, but he isn’t sure if he’s ever felt so terrible before. You sacrificed yourself so he wouldn’t be punished. Why..? Why would you do such a thing? It scared him. You scared him. He couldn’t possibly understand why you would do such a thing, but- He was grateful. So damn grateful… Max won’t forget this kindness, even if the Entity is desperate for him to do so.