Disclaimer –see Ch1
Note- the reason the chapters are so short is because when you hand write things they are longer each of those first 2 chapters was actually a page and a half so I didn't think it would be that short when I typed it
Michael's Apartment
~Knock knock~
"Oh dad." Max says sleepily to his father "Come on in, what's up?"
"Son, we need to talk" A groan escapes Max's lips before he can stop it. He sits on his bed/coach waiting to hear what he anticipates I'll say.
"Sorry it just I already know what your gonna say and it still doesn't change anything" Phillip has a seat next to his son.
"Yeah well things have changed, I found some stuff. Actually a lot of stuff about and. You know where I found it? Do you?" he pauses *calm down this isn't the time to yell at him just calm down* takes a deep breath. "Why was the FBI investigating you Max?" Phillips eyes never left his sons while he said it. He didn't fail to notice the way his whole demeanor changed. His breathing becoming more erratic. The gulp as soon as he said FBI. "See I found all these files about you."
"Files?" *Panic I look in my sons eyes and all I can see is panic, " what kind of files?"
"Listen Max, if you just…."
"What was in them" he gulps again and calms himself down as I am finding I need to do "the files Dad what was in them?"
"Mostly paperwork about medical tests. Tests performed on you. But the thing is these tests there the kind of tests you don't take when you're healthy. The thing is you're not sick. You have never been sick."
"What else?"
"Oh well there were photos" * I can see that throw him and he was hoping to deny but pictures don't lie* "Look at this and please just tell me what's going on, Max please." As I show him the first picture it doesn't phase him. No surprise nothing incriminating there. But the second picture the face of that unknown man. Causes him to jump from his seat visibly upset by it. More so them I thought it would.
"Max you need to calm down"
"No, I don't need to calm down." His eyes begin to tear, his face contorts to that of a child about to cry. This is not what was meant to happen here. "Why are you doing this? Why?" His voice crakes a little as he's saying it. "Why can't you leave it alone?" He's not asking anymore it's more like he's pleading for this to stop all together.
"Max, Max hey it's ok alright it's ok", * I want to comfort him. But he won't let me near him. I watch him leave the room, I follow. I find him in the darkest corner of Michael's bedroom. Curled up. * "You can tell me you know, you can tell me what happened? What ever it is you can tell me?"
His head lifts up at my voice. The trail of a few tears still visible on his face. " No, I can't tell you, you wouldn't understand." I ease myself down next to him and put my arm around his shoulders. I can tell he wants to run again. He looks like a cages animal looking for a way out.
"There is another picture I want you to see. Will you please tell me who this man is the one from the other picture?" I show him and he holds his breath. I point to the man, "Who is he, Max?" he looks away from the picture. I am forced to drag his chin back to the point where he is forced to look. "Who?"
"Pierce" he whispers. With a questioned look he repeats loader "Agent Pierce" his gaze falls again "Of the FBI Special Unit."
Note- the reason the chapters are so short is because when you hand write things they are longer each of those first 2 chapters was actually a page and a half so I didn't think it would be that short when I typed it
Michael's Apartment
~Knock knock~
"Oh dad." Max says sleepily to his father "Come on in, what's up?"
"Son, we need to talk" A groan escapes Max's lips before he can stop it. He sits on his bed/coach waiting to hear what he anticipates I'll say.
"Sorry it just I already know what your gonna say and it still doesn't change anything" Phillip has a seat next to his son.
"Yeah well things have changed, I found some stuff. Actually a lot of stuff about and. You know where I found it? Do you?" he pauses *calm down this isn't the time to yell at him just calm down* takes a deep breath. "Why was the FBI investigating you Max?" Phillips eyes never left his sons while he said it. He didn't fail to notice the way his whole demeanor changed. His breathing becoming more erratic. The gulp as soon as he said FBI. "See I found all these files about you."
"Files?" *Panic I look in my sons eyes and all I can see is panic, " what kind of files?"
"Listen Max, if you just…."
"What was in them" he gulps again and calms himself down as I am finding I need to do "the files Dad what was in them?"
"Mostly paperwork about medical tests. Tests performed on you. But the thing is these tests there the kind of tests you don't take when you're healthy. The thing is you're not sick. You have never been sick."
"What else?"
"Oh well there were photos" * I can see that throw him and he was hoping to deny but pictures don't lie* "Look at this and please just tell me what's going on, Max please." As I show him the first picture it doesn't phase him. No surprise nothing incriminating there. But the second picture the face of that unknown man. Causes him to jump from his seat visibly upset by it. More so them I thought it would.
"Max you need to calm down"
"No, I don't need to calm down." His eyes begin to tear, his face contorts to that of a child about to cry. This is not what was meant to happen here. "Why are you doing this? Why?" His voice crakes a little as he's saying it. "Why can't you leave it alone?" He's not asking anymore it's more like he's pleading for this to stop all together.
"Max, Max hey it's ok alright it's ok", * I want to comfort him. But he won't let me near him. I watch him leave the room, I follow. I find him in the darkest corner of Michael's bedroom. Curled up. * "You can tell me you know, you can tell me what happened? What ever it is you can tell me?"
His head lifts up at my voice. The trail of a few tears still visible on his face. " No, I can't tell you, you wouldn't understand." I ease myself down next to him and put my arm around his shoulders. I can tell he wants to run again. He looks like a cages animal looking for a way out.
"There is another picture I want you to see. Will you please tell me who this man is the one from the other picture?" I show him and he holds his breath. I point to the man, "Who is he, Max?" he looks away from the picture. I am forced to drag his chin back to the point where he is forced to look. "Who?"
"Pierce" he whispers. With a questioned look he repeats loader "Agent Pierce" his gaze falls again "Of the FBI Special Unit."