He remembers me. He remembers the screaming and the blood on the snow. He remembers everything, I can tell.
Rex is 41. Halfway to death and no happier for it. Any promise of a better life got stifled decades ago, when Rex was a limping school kid and Max was the school bully.
Then, a chance encounter. Max standing smug and handsome at a gas station with his oh-so-perfect family.
Rex secretly follows them home. Watches them. Thinks about his own miserable life. What Max did to him, and how a real man would claim revenge.
Rex acts.
Is this the making of a monster, or the breaking of a man?
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