For Max, things were getting worse.

In place of 'camp activities', they spent the time doing what was- in Max's opinion- nothing short of sick conversion therapy. But by god, did it work.

Once again Max was tied to a chair. Pikeman held up a photo of members of Camp Camp and asked Max to say they name.

As he did, Petrol hit him. This was no small thing either- Petrol was incredibly strong.

Soon Max was bruised and bloody and aching all over.

What made the technique of making him hate the members of his old camp so effective, thought Max, was that they did it so late at night, so he was half asleep, and the constant blows kept him jerking awake, and then the first thing he saw was a photo of Neil and it made him afraid because his exhausted mind had come to link pain with that image.

And so it went on until the very sight of David, Gwen, Neil, Nikki or any of the others made him flinch.

This also didn't help his sleeping pattern; he hardly got any sleep at all what with the 'therapy' going on so late. His nightmares got worse.

Another one of the 'techniques' the Woodscouts used was food as a reward.

Max had always been small and skinny, and Camp Camp wasn't exactly known for its exotic and nutritious cuisine, but the kids had never been starving. Just a little vitamin deficient.

But now...

Every time Max put a toe out of line- retorted to something, refused an action, even accidentally said the wrong thing, in addition to the physical violence, he would get a demerit on the food rota. Less or even no food that meal time. He didn't need a weighing scale to know he'd lost a lot of weight. Bright lights leaped before his eyes every time he stood up too quickly and his ribs began to push through his taught skin.

Another thing that made the Woodscouts unbearable was that Pikeman wouldn't stop calling him 'Maximus'. It was driving him crazy, because that was what his dad used to call him when he got really really angry. However as much as it infuriated Max, he learned soon that it was just not worth the fight.

It had come to a climax when Max had finally lost his temper and screamed:

"MY NAME IS MAX! EM EYE EX! THAT'S IT, YOU... YOU SPECCY-BOWL-HAIR-CUT-FUCKING-CUNT-WANker..."

He trailed off, horrified, realising what he had done. It had been so long since he had snapped, and he had been so furious... but now panic and terror mounted in him at look on Pikeman's face.

The tall boy's eyes were slits. He nodded at Petrol, who, before Max could do anything, grabbed him firmly by the arm. Max didn't even struggle. He was too afraid.

Pikeman stepped forward slowly and bent down so that his face was level with Max's, and very close.

"What's your name?" He hissed.

"Max." Max retorted, stony faced.

Petrol twisted his arm and he gritted his teeth in pain bud didn't cry out.

"Wrong. What's your name?" Pikeman repeated calmly, still right up in Max's face.

Max didn't answer. He just scowled. Pikeman have Petrol a look and be twisted Max's arm again. His face contorted- it was agony, and he couldn't stop a gasp of pain expecting his lips.

"What is your name?" Pikeman said again, sounding angry.

"MmmmmaaaaAAAXXXXX!" Max said, and at the end of it rose to a scream.

Petrol twisted his arm, hard and sharp, and there was a blunt cracking noise, like an axe hitting soft wood, and splintering.

Max howled.

After that he only answered to 'Maximus', and if not spoken to, he didn't speak at all.

Sometimes, at the beginning, it was too difficult to decide between doing what he was told, and his pride.

Soon, he had no choice.