I dodged a falling block, my legs burning as I sprinted for Max’s sneaker. The rumbling of the monster truck echoed in my skull, but I couldn’t look back. His shoe was a mountain of worn canvas and frayed laces, reeking of dirt and sweat. I leaped, grabbing a loose thread, and hauled myself onto the toe. The ground quaked as Max shifted, nearly throwing me off. I clung tight, heart hammering, and scrambled up the side, using the eyelets like handholds.
I reached the top of his sneaker, gasping, and looked up. Max’s face loomed above like a stormy sky, his wild hair a tangled forest. Before I could shout, his eyes locked onto mine. I froze, pinned by his stare. He tilted his head, squinting, his grin fading into something curious, then sharp.
“Ben?” His voice boomed, shaking my bones. “Is that you? You’re so small! You look like a little action figure!”
My mind blanked, his words hitting like a tidal wave. I opened my mouth, voice trembling. “Max, you gotta help me!”
Max’s grin twisted, not kind but gleeful. “Help you? Nah, Ben. You could be my new toy.”
Before I could react, his hand swooped down, fingers like tree trunks closing around me. The world blurred as he lifted me, the air rushing past. My stomach lurched, and I screamed, kicking against his grip, but it was like fighting a steel cage. Max laughed, a deep, wild sound, and bolted up the stairs, each step jolting me in his fist.
The hallway flashed by, then his bedroom door slammed open. Toys littered the floor—plastic dinosaurs, crumpled comics, a half-built Lego fortress. Max plopped onto his bed, holding me up to his face. His eyes gleamed, studying me like I was a shiny new collectible. “This is gonna be fun,” he said, his voice low, almost a growl.
I squirmed, my voice hoarse. “Max, stop! I’m not a toy!” But he wasn’t listening, already reaching for a toy spaceship, ready to play with me in ways that made my skin crawl.