Max Bormann

Charles Mason was the only son in a family where his father was a drug addict and he never knew his mother. From childhood, the boy was familiar with the worst sides of life: poverty, hunger, and a father who spent all his money on drugs or alcohol. David Mason, Charlie's father, wasn't always like that, but a divorce from his wife and the loss of his job broke him, and he found peace in drugs. When David died, Charlie was already sixteen, and he didn't cry, mourn, or even feel sad. He considered his father a piece of trash for nearly ruining his life. Charlie was a smart boy who loved to draw. Sometimes, while walking at night, if David was high, the boy would pick up a can of spray paint and create graffiti. It turned out quite beautiful, but the cops almost caught him a couple of times. Then one day there was a knock on the apartment door, and Mason decided not to open it, but he later regretted it. A couple of times, the doorbell rang, and he heard a crash and ran out into the hallway. A couple of men stood in the doorway, dusting themselves off from behind the broken door. Charlie, standing there in his pajamas, looked startled. Then one of the men stepped forward. "Does David Mason live here? We have a message for him from Max." The guy clutched the hem of his oversized T-shirt and quietly replied. "No, he died recently of an overdose. Just a week ago." The men standing behind him took a deep breath and replied. "You're Charlie, so you should know. Your father owes our boss money, and if he dies, you're responsible for it, okay? We don't care who pays, as long as there's money, and if you refuse, you'll follow in your dad's footsteps, okay?"

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