Max by Sarah Cohen-Scali

Author:Sarah Cohen-Scali
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Publisher: The Text Publishing Company
Published: 2015-12-09T00:00:00+00:00

No. I’m wrong. The boy is not smiling like that because it feels…whatever…while his dick and balls are being fondled. He’s smiling because right now he is pissing in the doctor’s hands. And we’re not talking about a little accidental dribble. This is one huge intentional piss. A magnificent, powerful spurt of urine that traces a perfect arc and, given the doctor’s position, sprays not just his hands, but his entire face, too.

I’m about to burst out laughing, but I stop myself, terrified.

They’re going to tear him to pieces, smash his beautiful angel face. He’ll be completely disfigured. The doctor who got piss all over his face is furious; he gives the boy a violent punch that knocks him to the ground. So now the boy is pissing blood: his nose is broken and blood is pouring from it. His lip is split. But his little mocking smile is still there, so one of the officers swings his boot and lands him a huge kick in the face, smack in his eyes, his beautiful, bright, blue, mesmerising eyes. They won’t stay like that for long. His right eye is already swollen, his eyelids puffy, and his cheekbones are sunken.

‘Filthy dog! Piece of shit! Polish vermin!’ bawls the officer, as he signals the guard on duty at the door.

I know what that means: ‘Take him away!’ ‘Kill him!’

No! I don’t want this boy killed!

Just as I’m about to leap from my stool and get Doctor Ebner to intervene, he himself gestures to the soldier who has the boy by the hair. He gives the order for silence and asks the doctor to bring him the sheet of paper with the measurements of the dick that pissed on him.

Let’s hope it measures up well. I’m quite convinced there’s nothing to worry there—his dick is beautiful! And his balls too! Well descended. And they’re big! What’s more, I can’t believe Doctor Ebner hasn’t noticed the physical resemblance between this boy and me. He’s a ‘desirable’ of the highest quality. They can’t kill him just because he pissed on an officer. (I try to erase the memory of Wolfgang, killed for a much more minor misdemeanour.)

The boy lies sprawled on the ground, dazed after the blows he’s just received. A few minutes pass while Ebner stares at him. My heart is racing. Ebner should have looked at him earlier, when his nose wasn’t bleeding and his eyelids weren’t swollen. Now he looks like nothing on earth, and no longer like me, that’s for sure.

I’m waiting for Ebner’s verdict. I’ve got pins and needles in my arms and legs, I’m struggling to breathe, my chest is heaving faster and faster, and my fingernails are digging into my hands because my fists are clenched so tightly. I just want to go and punch that officer’s face in. And Ebner’s too, if his verdict is negative. Or better still: have I got time to run over and grab the gun in the soldier’s belt? For sure. I’m a fast runner.

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