The Maxx

Mr. Gone:
That's how it ends, Doc. Not with a bang, or a whimper, but with a "thwack." Little Julie never did mention that incident, neither did her mother or father. Something in Julie shut off that night. In a way she's been eight years old ever since. Julie learned something from her mom that moment, something she would use years later when she was attacked and left for dead. The ability to suppress, to submerge, and to bury. Passed from mother to daughter. The pain of facing it versus the pain of keeping it down, like all that useless junk in Julie's house she just won't let go of. I guess you could say it's a no-win scenario. But actually you couldn't say any of that, could you, Doctor? You aren't as we say "all here". Though most of you is here, but then some of you is there, and some of you is over there. Well, you know what I mean. (alluding to his dismemberment) Au revoire, Doc. It's been swell.