Shattering Perception

MC couldn't help it-he stared, awed by the three men standing framed in the doorway, their long legs casting giant shadows on the floor. He had an idea they might be mad at him, but at this moment, he truly felt it was possible that they would be physically harming him, too. There was Jake-the ex-best friend-standing in the middle, with his father to one side and his older brother on the other side. Hard flint eyes cut through MC as hate and disgust so strong the air thick with blood churns beneath, made MC's flesh go cold, even his lungs aching against it. As tense as stretched threads around, MC fingers were bunched at the edges of his thighs in time with racing thought, calling forward, with much strain, to try and curtail this altercation. Just before it would've strangled him silent, Maximus' voice managed a hard cut of calm through that tortured moment:.

"Which one of you is Jake?" Maximus asked, as if he hadn't a clue concerning the charged atmosphere. He held out his volume 15 of "Survive or Dive!" like an offering of peace. "I want to talk with you about this series!"

It was a jarring sudden shift in focus. MC didn't know if Maximus was an idiot or a genius, but this unexpected interruption had just saved his skin. Taking advantage of the opening, MC found his voice-even if it sounded foreign to his ears.

"Why don't I show you around town before dinner, Maximus?" MC suggested, his fear of the men changing his whole demeanor. His words came out rushed and unnaturally cheerful. "I heard you wanted to explore. Get a feel for the place, you know?"

Maximus turned to him, confusion etched across his face. "I never said that once."

"Sure you did, back in the car," MC pressed out between clenched teeth as he darted his eyes between Maximus and the three men still blocking their escape. "I'm sure you said something about how you want to make the most of your time."

Before Maximus could utter another word of protest, MC leapt to his feet, sending the coffee table rocking precariously. He grasped Maximus by the arm and all but dragged him toward the door. The three men did not budge. Their faces were as hard as stone, unyielding. It wasn't until Eva cleared her throat pointedly that they reluctantly stepped aside, allowing MC and Maximus to pass.

MC snatched jackets from the coat rack, turning to race out, not daring to look back. Cold January air slapped him in the face as he tumbled out onto the porch. MC didn't slow down until he was a good distance away from the house, his heart pounding in his chest.

Finally, when he felt they were far enough away, MC released his grip on Maximus, who promptly lost his balance and fell unceremoniously onto his backside.

Maximus on the other hand was fighting to get out of MC grip, "Let me go! How is this strong when you never eat or exercise?!"

"Can you shut up for once?" MC snapped, drawing on frayed nerves. He pulled out his phone, checking the time. It was five twenty-three. "Stop complaining. We're out here now; might as well make the best of it."

Maximus scrambled to his feet and brushed the snow off his jeans, his words tumbling forth in a litany of muttered oaths. Perplexity turned to annoyance: "What's going on with you? You're being weird, even for you."

MC let out a deep sigh as he sank down onto the curb. The adrenaline was wearing off, and he felt drained. "You mean the family beef with me or the fact that I told them all I was going to be showing you around the town?" he asked with a sigh. "Because I don't have an answer for either of those."

"I am not surprised, considering how you are my brother and yet I hardly know anything about you," shot back Maximus, crossing his arms. "Do you actually expect me to be reacting to you like mom?" Anger caught off guard with MC. He opened his mouth to respond, but Maximus cut him off.

"Shut up and let me talk!" Maximus shouted, voice elevating. "You just literally lock yourself up in your own shell and refuse to change! Then you expect pity! Mom feels bad for you because you're her kid, but what about me? You want me to feel bad for you and take it easy on you when you don't even tell me why you're like this!"

The words burst forth from his mouth in a torrent, as if he had been holding them inside for far too long. "Then you come back to your hometown so you could pay your respect to a dead guy when you can't even get along with his family?! You're a weak pathetic coward who can't even fix his own life! Don't drag me into your mess!

MC sat in stunned silence as Maximus turned and stormed off, his words echoing in the quiet street. The truth of them stung, each one hitting like a physical blow. MC hadn't changed in five years. He hadn't apologized to the Whitlock family. And now here he was, out in the freezing cold, still avoiding responsibility for his actions.

As he watched the retreating figure of Maximus, something inside MC shifted. He stood from the curb, a new seed of determination starting to take root inside. He knew he was pathetic, but did he really want to be that way for the rest of his life?

"Maximus!" he shouted, and the voice would fly away in that frozen atmosphere. "Whether or not you choose to accompany me is up to you, but what I am determined on is to spend the day on an expedition about this city!" it was alien for him to say out loud yet didn't wish to spend the remaining of his life just as it has been lately doing, "not pent-up in that house throughout the whole day, or alone."

Maximus, irritated, turned to MC: "No, since you never tell me anything!" MC hesitated and then reached an important decision-a decision that changed it all. His therapist said it was time he did: "I'll promise to tell you why I ran away!

That was all Maximus needed to hear, really. He ran back, curiosity now mixed with lingering frustration on his face. "Well why didn't you say so; I don't want to be in a house where I am the only one who doesn't know what's going on."

"Yeah," MC muttered. "I wouldn't want that to be me either."

"So, now tell me what happened to you in the past," Maximus asked excitedly, for the anger that was there a minute ago replaced with curiosity. MC just rolled his eyes with a smirk, a glimpse of the old him coming through. "Yeah yeah, I will, just get ready to hate everyone in the town as much as I do. It's not a pretty story, but I guess it's time you heard it."

With every step toward the town center, MC took a deep breath and steeled himself to let out all the secrets he had kept inside for so long. Before them lay the town, full of memories-both good and bad-awaiting his confrontation.

…

It was late in the night, but for the police, it was business as usual: they came onto the farm's doorstep. The two boys peered between two curtains. Facing Jake's father and mother were the two uniform-clad men whose visages seemed bleak, their voices low. All this came from the news so obvious that sent Eva crashing down to the ground, where shrill cries met the silent evening. Jake's father, Brooks Whitlock, knelt beside her, his face etched with worry and exhaustion. The scene made a mixture of guilt and fear churn in MC's stomach.

"Do you think they found Emma?" he asked in a hushed voice. His eyes were wide with hope and dread and didn't leave the scene outside. "She can't just disappear like that, right?"

MC continued to stare at the police strolling in slow, measured steps back to the cruiser. "Of course not. They are the police; they'll find her in no time," he said, trying to inject some confidence into his tone.

But MC had doubt gnawing in his insides despite his reassurance to himself. It had been four days since Jake's sister Emma went missing, seemingly into thin air. The whole town had united in a frantic search, combing woods, checking abandoned buildings, and plastering missing person flyers on every available surface. But so far, their efforts had yielded nothing1.

"Hey, MC, you alright?" Jake asked suddenly, making MC jump. His gaze had moved from the window to MC's arm. "That looks pretty nasty."

Their gazes turned to MC's bandaged arm, thick gauze covering the large wound he'd gotten earlier that day. The white fabric stood out starkly against his skin in the dim light.

"Yeah, don't worry about it," MC said, forcing cheer into his voice. He tugged his sleeve down, trying to cover up the bandage. "I'm pretty sure they didn't do it on purpose."

"But why did that bully cut you with scissors?" Jake persisted. His brow furrowed. "I bet he hurt you on purpose. That was no accident."

MC almost wished it had been an accident-the time the classmate sliced his entire forearm with scissors-but it had seemed deliberate, part of a pattern that was escalating since Emma had disappeared. He was covered in bandages from countless attacks-bruises from "accidental" shoves, cuts from "misplaced" sharp objects. The adults who'd once been so kind were just as hostile: suspicion and thinly veiled anger seething behind their eyes. Was he to blame when Emma disappeared?

He shook his head, attempting to remove that thought. This was not his fault. What's blaming a poor little innocent kid for nothing? Still, God wished they find her soon; not to enjoy these gory wounds in mom but the unbecoming hostile atmosphere that engulfs him into further chaos with the townsfolk.

MC finally stood up, wincing as the movement pulled at his injuries. "I need to go home," he said, giving Jake a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Don't worry about Emma. I bet she's fine."

Jake nodded, wordless, as MC left, his eyes following on his friend's figure. He couldn't help but note very well the look his father shot at MC on the way out-suspicion, something darker that crawled under Jake's skin. He really hoped MC was going to be okay.

MC pedaled home, sweat beading under his sweater despite the summer night. The cool air felt good on his face, but it did little to ease the burning anger and fear in his chest. He muttered curses at whoever had done this to him under his breath. What had he done to anyone?

The quiet night allowed him to hear the nocturnal animals and see the bright, twinkling stars dotting the sky like diamonds scattered across it. For a moment, there was peace, almost able to forget the turmoil of the past few days. But his tranquility was short-lived.

A snap of a twig behind him broke the silence. MC's unease grew; Jake's family lived far from town, and he'd thought he was alone on this stretch of road. He turned around, heart pounding against his ribs.

A few feet away came four people on bikes towards him, their faces obscured by clown masks that were grotesque enough in the moonlight and seemed to leer at him. They carried metal bats, the weapons glinting ominously in the dim light. They didn't look friendly.

"That's the kid!" the leader yelled, his voice muffled yet distinctively full of malice. "Get him and make sure he doesn't get away!"

MC didn't wait to find out what they wanted. He pedaled harder, an injection of adrenaline taking over as he tried to make some space. All he needed to do was get home without any problems. He knew this place better than anybody, right?

He sped his mind to find some way of shaking his pursuers from his now-terrifyingly hostile hometown landscape. He swerved off the main road onto a narrow dirt path, hoping darkness and uneven terrain would impede his pursuers. Behind him, he could hear angry shouts and the sound of bikes crashing through the underbrush.

As he raced through the night, MC's thoughts whirled: Who were these people? What did they want with him? And most importantly, did their appearance have anything to do with Emma's disappearance? The questions pounded in his head in rhythm with his racing heart as he pedaled harder, desperate to escape and find answers.

As he leaned further and further down, pumping harder with renewed fear, adrenaline surged through MC's body as his bike began to kick up dirt and dust behind him. In the night, there was an eerie sound of the laughter and jeers of four kids in clown masks. He had no idea who they were or what they wanted, but the glint of their metal bats in the moonlight left no room for doubt: they meant him harm.

"Get him! Don't let him get away!" the leader shouted again, his voice a mix of excitement and menace that sent a shiver down MC's spine. He didn't dare look back; he had to focus on the path ahead, where the trees leaned in close like looming sentinels, their shadows swallowing him whole.

The dirt track zigzagged, hugging at a few points, but MC knew these woods like the back of his hand. He forced himself not to lose calmness, but the panic rose almost palpably high in his mind. "Concentrate," he whispered under his breath, "just move."

His heart thundering in his chest, MC risked a glance over his shoulder and saw the figures of clown faces closing in. How they could run their bikes so skillfully was beyond his comprehension as they taunted him, closing in. The leader's bat shone ominously, swinging in the air, its keen edge briefly illuminated by the moon. MC's breath caught at the sight-he had to lose them.

He veered off the path and into the dense trees, their branches tugging at his clothes and hair like grasping fingers. He heard their shouts grow fainter, the rustling of leaves and crunch of underbrush becoming a symphony of chaos behind him. The thrill of the chase began to course through him, mixed with a primal need for survival.

"Where'd the little coward go?" one of them yelled, frustration lacing his voice. The sound goaded MC onward, forcing him through thick undergrowth and over fallen branches.

The deeper into the woods, the more uneven the earth beneath his tires was getting. Gritting his teeth, he shifted his weight to maintain the bike beneath him. One wrong move and he would land headfirst into a thicket or against some tree. Not on his watch.

Then, in an instant, a twig snapped under his tire, veering him violently off course. He hardly remained upright, his heart, already racing with fear, boomed even stronger. Behind him now came the echoes of his pursuers closing in once again-relentless in a cacophony of laughter and shouts for him to panic. But he couldn't afford to be overtaken by this fear-not now and not when Emma was still somewhere out there, with whatever these kids wanted from him a mystery he had to decipher.

In a swift rush of instinct, MC could see that just ahead there was a small creek. On fire with sprints to reach the bank, the legs started on fire. He suddenly flew off the bike in one movement; the bike went off to one side. Roughly landed on the opposite part of the brook, with an abrupt plunge right into the creek, the chilling force of cold water soaked into the sneakers.

He glanced back to see the clowns stop in their tracks, looking about for a few seconds in confusion. All laughter ceased as an expectant quiet replaced it-they were studying their surroundings. It was now or never. MC sized up the short moment of confusion and deeper in the woods went he, every instinct within his body yelled at him for movement.

The branches whipped against his arms and face as he crouched beneath them, the sounds of pursuit falling for just a moment and giving him a glimmer of hope. But he knew they would not give up so easily. He needed a place to hide, some means of losing them before they got their bearings again.

His mind ran through places he could go. There was an old barn not too far from here, abandoned and ideal to hole up in. He ran through the trees, tripping over roots but forcing himself to keep going. Time seemed to stretch out as he reached the clearing the barn sat in, its silhouette dark against the star-lit sky.

He ducked inside, wincing at the creaking sounds of the old structure. The air inside was stale, and dust motes danced in the thin beams of moonlight. He pressed himself against the wall, relying on the shadows to cloak him, praying that the kids wouldn't think to check here.

He could hear their voices now outside, the sound of bikes slowing as they closed in on his location. "He has to be close—he couldn't have gone far!"

MC held his breath, every nerve ending on high alert as he listened to them search. The weight of the moment bore down on him, uncertainty blending with the fear clutching at his throat. If they found him now, there would be no escape.

The voices grew louder then, mingling with the racing of his heart as he waited in silence, hoping against hope he could stay concealed long enough to outsmart them and figure out why they were chasing him in the first place-and what it all had to do with Emma.

After what seemed like an eternity, the sounds of his pursuers finally receded. MC came out from the thick growth he had plunged into, wet, with clotted mud in his clothes. His body ached from every nook and corner; it acted as a testament to the horror chase and his desperate jump into the river. But all that physical discomfiture was nothing before the strong, overpowering feeling of his failure in the fact that he was not safe even in his hometown.

With shaking legs, MC started the long way back, working his way through the moonlit forest. Every time a twig snapped or a leaf rustled, he would jump and quickly glance from shadow to shadow. He half-expected those masked figures to leap out at any moment, their cruel laughter echoing through the trees. But as the minutes ticked by without incident, he began to believe that they had truly given up and gone home.

Finally, MC saw in front of him the riverbank where he was forced to abandon his bike. His heart sank because the thing he saw in front of him was just destruction. The bicycle, once the object of his joy and freedom, was now twisted and broken on the rocky shore.

He walked towards the remains, slowly, not to cause a complete disintegration in case it would fall apart at one touch. The front wheel was bent at an impossible angle, more closely resembling a warped pretzel than anything functional. Deep scratches and dents told the story of its violent demise on what was once a pristine, blue paint job. It was the missing handlebars and rear wheel, though, that really hammered the point home. They had been torn off with such force that what remained of the frame indeed seemed to have been chewed up by some monstrous creature.

MC ran his hand along the beaten frame, and a lump began to form in his throat. It wasn't just a bike; it was a birthday present from his parents, a partner on any number of adventures. Now, like so much else these days in his life, it was irreparable.

MC trudged the long way home, his heavy heart dragging along the mangled remains of his bike. He chose the long route, one that made its way through the darkest and most densely wooded area of town. The thick canopy above allowed little moonlight to penetrate, casting him near completely in darkness. But MC liked this. What had once been threatening shadows now felt like a cloak of protection, concealing him from prying eyes and would-be attackers.

As he walked, MC's mind was racing. How had things gone so bad? When did his neighbors-people he had known his whole life-become such monsters? The weight of the past few days pressed down on him, threatening to crush his spirit altogether.

After what seemed like hours trudging through the dark, MC finally saw the familiar outline of his house. A single light burned in the kitchen window, guiding him home. He approached the front door with trepidation, unsure of what awaited him inside.

He kicked the door open; hinges squeaked-noisy announcement of his arrival. His mother, who had sat at the kitchen table, her face furrowed with concern, sprang to her feet with such violence that her chair clattered to the floor.

"Oh my God, Michael!" she exclaimed, in equal measures of relief and horror. "What happened to you?! You're soaking wet and covered in scratches!"

She flitted to him, fluttering her hands over his face and arms to assess the damage. MC just stood there, immobilized, as she hoisted up his shirt, revealing the muddle of bruises and cuts that he had struggled to conceal. Her shocked intake of breath told him all that she must have seen which he had desperately tried to keep hidden.

"What is this, Michael?" she asked so low he almost had to strain to hear her. The pain and confusion in her eyes were almost more than he could bear.

MC couldn't bring himself to meet her gaze. He stood there, shivering, a mixture of river water and tears dripping onto the kitchen floor. The weight of everything that had happened - Emma's disappearance, the town's hostility, tonight's attack - came crashing down on him all at once.

"Mom," he choked out as his voice cracked with emotion. "Can we move away?" The dam finally burst, and the days of tears held inside came streaming down. "I don't want to be in this town anymore. Please, I can't. I can't stay here."

As his mother pulled him into a tight hug, MC let go of the act he had put on. She had allowed him to be what he really was in the protection of her arms: a frightened, hurt little child who needed once more to feel secure. Sobs racked his frame as he held to her, the bicycle damaged and leaning forgotten by the door, silently testifying to a ravaged childhood torn from him.

…

Maximus's mouth had hung open in shock as MC finished telling the reason for his abrupt departure from their hometown. The story was a lot darker, a lot more complex than anything Maximus could ever have imagined. He had always assumed MC's reluctance to make new friends was the result of common teenage awkwardness or maybe being bullied because he was a nerd. But this. this was something else entirely.

Maximus leaned forward, not even realizing he was doing so, and tugged MC's shirt up to reveal a patchwork of scars-some small and faded, others larger and more pronounced. His stomach churned at the sight. "What in the world.?" he whispered, barely audible.

"What are you doing?!?" MC shrieked, yanking his shirt back down. "It's freezing out here!" His eyes darted around the surrounding darkness nervously, as if expecting someone to leap out and attack them at any moment.

Maximus couldn't help but look at his brother in sadness, almost with new understanding. The pieces were falling into place-the long sleeves even in summer, the reluctance to go swimming, the flinching at unexpected touches. It all made sense now, and it broke his heart.

Anger bubbled up inside him, threatening to boil over. "These people are fucking crazy!" he spat, his hands clenching into fists at his sides.

"Don't say that out loud!" MC hissed, noticing a passerby giving them a dirty look. "Look, it happened a long time ago. I was only 13."

"So?" Maximus retorted, his tone rising despite the warning from MC. "No human deserves that, not even a child. It is not like you were responsible for what happened to that girl." His eyes suddenly widened at a new thought entering his mind. "Wait, I never saw her at the house. Did they ever find her?

MC's face twisted as he turned away. "Who knows? I didn't stick around long enough to find out."

Maximus wanted to press further, but he could see MC retreating into himself. He didn't want to push too hard and risk his brother shutting down completely. Still, one question burned in his mind.

"Is that why you're. 'sick'?" he ventured, using the euphemism his family had collectively settled on for MC's struggles. Much to his surprise, MC seemed rather unconcerned. -clears throat-

"No," MC said, his voice deeper, heavier. "I didn't even care about what they did. It was. " He glanced over his shoulder; the result of a lifelong paranoia that made him expect eavesdroppers in places of confidence. "Something else."

Maximus nodded, wordless as his mind was racing with many more questions. Why does Jake and his family now hate MC? He was really nice in those early stories in MC. What had changed, who? Who is this person, William, which got them lured into this ghost-town in the first place?

Sensing the heavy mood, Maximus's eyes landed on a cheerful pink building down the street. "Let's get some ice cream," he suggested, forcing a smile. "Ice cream always fixes everything."

MC glanced at the shop, a flicker of recognition crossing his face. "We don't have money," he mumbled. "I didn't bring much, considering we're just here for a funeral."

With a flourish, Maximus pulled out his wallet. "Unlike you, I came prepared. Come on, I'm buying."

As they came to the store, MC hesitated. "I'll wait out here," he said, peering in the window warily at the owner.

Maximus came in alone; the cheerful bell above the door jarred with the tension outside. As he scanned flavors, he couldn't help but reflect on how shops just like this often were the heart and soul of smaller communities. They should be places of delight and bonding, not fear and hurtful memories.

Outside, MC looked up to the overcast sky, a slight weight lifted from his shoulders. Sharing even a fraction of his past was cathartic beyond his expectations. But his moment of peace was short-lived.

"Well, well, if it isn't Michael Conner," a chillingly familiar voice called out. "You don't know how surprised I was to hear you were back in town."

He turned around to find himself staring into the face of his old tormentor-the boy who had once cut him with scissors years ago. He was not alone, though, because at least three others were with him, including Jake, with that gleeful grin that made MC's blood run cold.

As Maximus was happily examining the flavors of ice cream inside, blissfully unaware of the brewing confrontation outside, MC realized with a sinking feeling that his past wasn't done with him yet. It seemed he couldn't catch a break in this town, even after all these years.