Max continued to sleep. He was dreaming, but none of those dreams were good. Many of them showed his overlooked past, all the wrong done to him in his life. One could only hope his past was not that bad, in reality, it was. Max had lots of wounds all over his torso. There were other wounds, but the worst ones were on his torso. On his chest, Max had a very long gash on it, one that went over his heart and looked to have thought the attack would have killed him. There were stab wounds all over his body throughout the years. His chest had a lot of them around his lungs and heart. If counted, at least seventeen. On his shoulders were bruises, large black and blue and purple bruises that looked to hurt for eternity. On his back were a lot of cuts, scratches and more gashes. One would think more gashes and cuts than Jesus Christ with the cat of nine tails. Surely so, anyone could see the damage done to him over the years. Boiling hot water burns, even burns from fire. There was also a distinct wound, some very deep gashes or cuts near his neckline. Those were the marks of a axe, one used for chopping wood to make firewood. One could only imagine the scene of getting hacked like that and living. Max was a very lucky boy, yes, but he was also one who suffered over a thousand battle wounds from his father and other. That vampire bite on his neck, was a new battle wound. Max groaned again, rolling onto his back, still sleeping.