heart over brain

Part 18

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I pick up my clothes and get dressed in silence. The way Max watches me do so, with a face of stone and arms crossed over his chest, makes the atmosphere tensed and uncomfortable.

I straighten and wrap my arms around my body. Apparently he does 100 to 0 too, no, 100 to -100. Plenty guys ran out on me before, but I've never seen anyone put on pants that quickly. This change in behaviour is too stark, I can't deal.

"You can leave now," Max says. He doesn't look at me. "And please don't come back again. I have neither time nor patience to keep going along with your kinks all the time."

Every word is a punch in my gut. The detached tone in his voice tears me apart from deep inside.

And kinks? What the hell does he think of me?

No, I can't believe that. He was part of that just now. He must have felt it too. I can't be that delusional.

Please, I can't be that delusional. "W-What do you mean?"

Max walks over to the door. Opens it. Gesticulates for me to move when I don't.

A wave of panic hits me.

"Don't bother telling the police about this place. I'll be gone long before they can catch me." His voice is rough as he speaks. It rings through the room with a sense of finality.

I stumble back, press against the same wall he pinned me to just moments ago. I shake my head.

"Leave," he says with more power.

"I don't want to,"

"Get the hell out!"

"I don't want to!" I yell again. My voice trips over itself in desperation. He can't be for real. He brought me here to use me like this, then discard me like a tool?

I was a tool in his hands, wasn't I? Last time and this time too, powerless against him.

The ground beneath me starts to spin. The walls come closer. I can't breathe. My feet give out, and I slide down along the wall.

"Hannah," Max growls.

I don't answer. I don't know what to answer. Don't know how. I have no control over my throat and tongue.

He curses beneath his breath and slams the door shut again. I flinch at the bang. When he kneels beside me, he looks beyond mad. Jaw tensed, like he can barely hold back yelling at me. Eyes dark and cold, at the same time burning with rage. He grabs for my arm to feel a pulse. It is racing.

"What the hell is wrong with you," he grumbles, not really speaking to me. Then he looks up. "I swear, you are not right in your head. You are totally crazy."

I choke on my breath. Tears gather in my eyes. They pour down my cheeks like a waterfall.

I am crazy. I so am. I wish I wasn't, God I wish I wasn't. I wish I could be normal, do normal things and want normal things. But I am weird and wrong. Even Max noticed that. 

He noticed. 

He knows. 

Whatever hope there was before, now that he knows how messed up I really am, he'll want nothing to with me. No one ever does.

"Every other person would have run screaming. But not you, no, you keep throwing yourself into the fangs of a lion like a mad rabbit," he says.

I sob so hard I can't breathe.

"Every time I try to do the right thing you just – I don't know – punch me in the gut and sink in your teeth a bit deeper. Well, it fucking hurts."

Max sits down properly besides me with a groan. I grab for him. He is trying to get rid of me, does terrible things to me and says terrible things to me, but I grab for him. It's madness.

"You are a clingy little beast," he says, tugging at my fingers buried in his shirt. He doesn't sound mad anymore. I can't place the emotion ringing through his voice. I don't dare look at his face to find out.

"I have no idea what to do with you. Like, seriously," he says. "No one ever clung to me like you do." He shifts and places an arm around me.

"Stop crying," he whispers in my ear. It's a soft sound. So soft, it blows everything else away instantly. I ease into him, close my eyes and hide my face in his chest. He pulls me into a proper hug, gentle and warm. "I am giving you one last chance," he murmurs in my hair. "You better take it."

I don't follow.

Even if his words did make any sense, the feeling of him so close, so sweet, burns away any ability of comprehensive thinking.

"If you don't leave, I will. You better be gone when I come back." His voice snaps back to stone cold.

Huh?

He pulls away, stands up, and does indeed leave the apartment. I scramble, but can't pull myself together fast enough to follow.

The door closes, he is gone.

I stumble out to an empty hallway. 

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