Everything was double speed on Max's bad days and everything was worse. If some pastry was too dry, some sauce under-seasoned, some timing out by even a few seconds, it would start... You'd be desperate for him to erupt - just to explode and get it all over with - but he'd suck it all back inside himself. It was awful, like watching a balloon being inflated long past its popping point. And when it did come - that was when we were most at risk from getting hurt. Whilst he'd always leave the physical abuse to Patrick, his verbal attacks could inflict a violence that was far worse. Sometimes he'd hiss and whisper things that seemed designed to break you from the inside. On other occasions, he'd simply stare at you, assaulting you with his grotesque silence, the only clue to the rages within him his unyielding stare and a pale, sinewy look about his eyes, as if they'd been glued open.