Snippet #2533386

Max was literally wrenched out of his self-pity by the scruff of his neck.

He stumbled down the first few stairs which led into the cellar, but he couldn’t regain his balance from the shove and ended up rolling down the last half of the flight ungracefully. Knowing better than to curse or agitate Baron any further, he started to get to his feet in grim silence, without a single complaint. He didn’t have to struggle much as Baron gave him a helping hand by dragging him back up and kindly directing him to where he wanted Max to go with rough hands which mashed his face up against the cage. Now he put up some fight, trying to push his head away from the rusty metal which pressed into his flesh. He didn’t like to think what could’ve come into contact with it. Too bad Baron gave him a lovely poetic confirmation of his badly suppressed thoughts.

That was what he wanted. That was what he was asking for.

How could he explain it? This wasn’t a choice. He couldn’t carry on as he was. For such a long time his life had been nothing but the pack, they were the closest thing to a family he’d ever had, and Max had no one else. His future depended on the pack. His future depended on being turned - or else remain stuck in time. It was what he wanted. He didn’t see why the fact that he could die even mattered when it was his decision, a decision he had made years ago. Besides, why should Baron care so much? Yet here he was, being denied for reasons he thought were unclear. Whether he lived or died, Max believed wasn’t up to Baron. Whether he was a pack member, however, was. And it seemed like Baron had already practically made that decision.

Or so Max had thought.
But he was being deprived of full membership.

Max snarled upon his release, stumbling back a few steps before steadying himself and squaring up.

Get out.
Doesn’t belong.

After a moments quiet, he snorted, both hysteric and infuriated at being - what he believed - led on under false pretenses.
“Guess I really don’t belong.” And never will.

He started up the stairs with his head turned down, shrugging about in his jacket to get it back into position after being manhandled so. Max was planning on leaving The Den for the last time in his wave of deceit.