heart over brain

Part 17

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We walk the streets quite aimlessly for a while without talking. Houses and people pass by in a blur. 

I am trying to gather myself. Doesn't work.

Sitting in a car with Max was so much easier than this. It was almost like a normal road trip with a normal person. Even being interrogated by the police was fine. 

Running from them, however, is too real. My brain keeps screaming warnings at me, reasons and logic, but the thumping of my heart is louder.

Max stops me in front of a run-down apartment building with dirty grey walls and about a hundred floors, we take an elevator to the tenth, get out. He pulls out a key from his pants pockets and unlocks an apartment. The act is so ridiculously normal I want to scream.

We step inside, he turns the light on.

It's only one room, small, empty but for a table with a laptop, a couch and some empty pizza boxes neatly placed on top of each other in the corner.

"What about your friend?" I say. He had said he was going to see one, hide there. But it looks like he has been here, next town over, not miles and miles away.

"I don't have any friends," he grumbles like the idea alone is an offense.

What was the trip for then?

He doesn't elaborate, and I don't ask. I am not sure I really want to know in any case. If he went there to murder someone? I definitely don't want to know that.

Why, brain, why do I always have to think the worst? He is far from innocent, but he wouldn't really murder someone. Then again, what do I know. He has done nothing but lie to me.

Max takes the cap off, throws it on the table.

He cut his hair. It is much shorter, the chemical blond bits are gone, his natural colour is a dirty gold tone. It makes him look a bit older, less boyish, more dangerous.

I look around me helplessly. I am alone in a closed room with a criminal again. I got myself in this position, again.

The worst part, I want this. Maybe the thrill of danger attracts me, maybe Max himself. In any case, there is nowhere else I would rather be.

I am so, so messed up.

"W-What now?" I say.

Max crosses the arms over his chest. Looks me up and down with furrowed brows. "I don't know."

I nod like that cleared something up for me, it didn't, and dare step further into the room. I walk past the table, turn around myself while he watches me attentively, step to the only window and look outside.

It is getting dark. Lights flash on around town, I can see many, the apartment is small and old, but has a marvellous view.

My eyes stick to a paper wall with a commercial for the upcoming election and my head jumps to the topic like I am hanging over an abyss and need to cling on to something. "What do you think will happen to Dr. Morgan?"

"He will get what he deserves," Max says. He again sounds arrogant and proud, but there is something more hidden in his voice.

"You don't feel any remorse?"

Max shrugs and comes around to look out the window as well.

"Not even towards your father?" I say. I need to hear it, to know just where exactly Max draws the line.

His eyes snap to me. He frowns. "Who told you?"

"You did." In a way.

He looks away, thinking, probably trying to remember. When his thoughts return to the present his face is dark. "He gets what he deserves," he repeats, says nothing more. He doesn't need to. I can understand the sentiment.

As we stand next to each other in silence an uncomfortable feeling creeps over me. It's the same as back when we were in the car on the road together. The next bus stop is coming up, and my heart hurts with the idea that he could really drop me off, my body trembles with the uncertainty, the fear that I am left behind, while my head screams at me to jump out of the driving car as fast as I can.

I grab for Max, my fingers tug on his sleeve.

He stares down on my hand. For a long while, without any reaction. The tension is suffocating. If he tells me to let go, I will cry and I don't think I will ever stop again.

Then he moves. He places an arm around my waist to pull me closer. It is so sudden I squeak in surprise.

Before I can react, he comes even closer and presses his lips on mine.

The kiss is ungentle and rough. His lips are hard and forceful, demanding me to play along instead of asking. Same as last time, not a breath to adjust, 0 to 100 in a heartbeat. 

Heat explodes in my stomach. My heart clenches with longing. I helplessly cling to Max as he pushes me back against the wall and presses himself against me, hungry like he has been craving this for days. His arms lock me in.  

I can't escape. 

I don't want to escape. 

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