Gingerbread Latte

Prologue

Max's POV

I rubbed my hand over my chest, trying to breathe in and out without it hurting, but I failed. The four walls of the room felt like they were closing up on me, suffocating me within their boundaries. I couldn't take it anymore so I pulled out the IV needle from my arm. Blood came out, it hurt but I didn't care. The ache over my chest was much more prominent. I pulled down the sleeves of my sweatshirt, covering the blood, and left my phone in the room before I walked out.

I didn't want to be reached at the moment, I just wanted to be alone, I needed fresh air, for a couple of minutes, not more. I was thankful that my parents weren't waiting outside and I made my way toward the next door and went up the stairs. I climbed up till I reached the roof, knowing it was the last place anyone would find me in.

I pushed the metal door open and the moment I stepped outside, the light early-summer breeze hit my chest and I closed my eyes, breathing the fresh air in, desperately needing it. I stepped forward and carefully sat down by the edge, with one foot on either side of the ledge, dangling them. The wound from the surgery ached and a low groan rumbled from my throat as I settled into a more comfortable position.

I know I shouldn't do this, for my health's sake, I shouldn't be here but I needed just one minute of serenity, one minute away from everything waiting for me downstairs. From Lilly's guilty eyes, from dad's fear of losing me, mom's pain, and from the man who looked at me like I meant the world to him.

I looked down, at the busy streets of the city, their headlights a blur as they raced through traffic. My gaze flickered up to the sky, it was turning pink as the sun slowly went down, signaling the end of the day.

The sunset came as a scattered heart across the horizon, as if the sky itself could speak of both beauty and pain. There is a thin line between the both. A very thin one.

I pressed my palms over the ground and remembered the time when I first discovered his existence; my uncle I thought. I wished he was alive back then. Seeing dad with a brother felt like something I would love to have around.

Now, here he is, my wish came true in the worst possible way ever.

He is here now, making me doubt my own existence.

As I stared down from the ten-story building, being this close to the edge, I couldn't help but think about suicide, not my own of course; as much as life could suck, I plan to keep living mine to the fullest. I just couldn't help but think about those who actually commit the act, about how they push themselves off the edge; do they regret it? Like while falling, do they ever say; shit, that was a very bad idea.

The thought, in some way, reminded me, it brought back images; flashes of dad's scar and a fresh image of the man I just talked with and the scar running up his neck. My jaw tightened and I closed my eyes, unable to face the ugly fact; they didn't have it easy, did they?

I want to know it all, but how can I ever be ready to hear about my father's pain? About...Nikolas's pain? What if I felt bad for him? I don't want that. I don't want to sympathize with him, I don't want to give reasons for his horrible actions. I don't want to forgive him.

I stayed there for some time, right by the edge, looking down at the world, the one I am getting lost in. A maze with no exit sign, a one I have to roam all of its ground to be able to find my way out.

As the sun escaped, the light slowly faded away and the night looked ready to take over. The pain pressed over my wound and I knew I had to go back to my room. Carefully, I pulled myself up to my feet, and my eyes took one last glance at what lay down beneath me.