Fang's POV:
Everyone had decided that the beach was boring, so we were trudging back up the hill towards the hotel room.
I absentmindedly wondered why Max hadn't come down. She hadn't been herself since… well she hadn't been herself for a few months.
I was ready to shoot myself because of that. But Max had never brought it up, so maybe she didn't remember any of it. There's something like that, right? Traumatic events you tend to block out of your memory? Oh my God, I had caused her to have a traumatic event.
Holy fucking shit. I had possibly ruined our lives. I know I ruined every chance of ever being with Max. It was hard to get up in the morning knowing that. I had nightmares, reliving what I'd done, every night. I knew Max had them too. She would scream in her sleep, crying out, "No, Fang, stop!" She'd wrestle with the comforters, never gaining more than an hour of sleep. I'd once tried to comfort her, but she'd attacked me, recognizing me.
Now it was as if the stress was making her sick. She'd spend every morning locked in the bathroom throwing up. Gazzy, Nudge, and Angel hadn't noticed. I pretended not too. Iggy was worried, though. He didn't understand why she'd be throwing up so often. He thought she was really sick.
But no. I'm the sick one. I'd done the unimaginable to her. The whitecoats hadn't even been evil enough to do that to her. I almost collapsed, right there in the lobby of the hotel. I was so ashamed; I hated. I wouldn't have minded right then for an alive and hateful Ari to come tearing in and then rip me to shreds, without trying to fight back.
The elevator ride was painful. I felt like the walls were closing in on me, but I let it happen, not even complaining. It was my punishment.
Nudge was constantly yammering away about ice cream and how chocolate ice cream can't be real chocolate ice cream or something or other. Angel was staring into space, probably day dreaming about a house and parents and having a normal life. Iggy and the Gasman were talking quietly, miming things in the corner. Obviously another bomb. I sighed. I had no idea how Max managed to control all of this.
Ding!
That elevator sound was irking the heck out of me. But it was yet another annoyance I deserved to spend eternity with. Max would never forgive me as surely as I would never forgive myself.
Angel and Nudge raced to the hotel room, shouting "Max! Max!" happily over and over again.
I was glad they had the key, because I was not in a mood for running. I doubted I'd ever be in a good mood again.
"NOOOO!" a strained sob came from the room. I burst into full speed, throwing the door fully open, ready for an all-out attack.
But instead, I got Angel grief-stricken, holding a piece of paper in her hands while Nudge was sobbing, face down on the bed.
"What's going on?" I asked, calmly. "Where's Max?"
Nudge continued to sob and stuck out an arm, pointing at the piece of paper Angel was holding.
Wordlessly, I gestured for her to hand me the paper. I wasn't sure if she could see me, she just stared straight ahead.
Dear Flock,
I'm sorry, but I have to go. I can't tell you why I'm leaving or where I'm going but I promise that I will never be far from you. If you are desperately in need of me, I will always be there to help you. Angel, don't mind control anyone. You know how much people hate that. You will always be my baby, sweetheart. Gazzy, try not to let one loose in a public place. Thanks for always being my little trooper. Nudge, try not to talk peoples' ears off. But as much as I always told you to be quiet, I've always loved that about you no matter what Angel thinks I thought. Iggy, try not to blow stuff up and take care of the Flock for me. Fang, I will never forget what you did. But don't come and find me. I hope your conscience catches up with you.
I love you guys. I will always be there for you, only a small step away.
Love,
Max
I read it out loud. I sank to the floor. I'd caused her to leave. I'd caused all of the pain everyone was feeling right now. The pain everyone would inevitably be feeling for the rest of their lives.
"Fang! You did this!" Angel cried, having come back to us out of her stupor. "She was in the bathroom, thinking awful thoughts and then she said she wanted to hurt you!" Angel was sobbing, it was hard to discern her face from the tears upon it.
"What did you do?" Iggy asked quietly with an even voice.
"Max said he raped her!" she cried.
I froze. I felt Iggy tense up behind me.
"What does it mean!? It must be something awful because otherwise she wouldn't have said she wanted to hurt you. Or that she was carrying the devil's spawn! But she wasn't carrying anything when I saw her. And then she told me she didn't hate you. But she must have been lying!" Angel collapsed in a heap on the bed beside Nudge. All Gazzy had been able to understand was that Max had left. The three of them were huddled together on the bed, now, weeping in synch.
My shoulders started to shake. I sat against the bed with my knees up, hiding my face and letting the misery control me.
I was the reason for this.
I was the reason why she'd left.
I was an awful person; I didn't deserve to live.
"What. The. Hell." Iggy said, grabbing the front of my shirt and pulling me to my feet.
"You fucking raped her?!" he spat, his face contorted with rage. "She's carrying the devil's spawn?! You fucking raped her and you fucking got her pregnant!" Iggy's face was livid. He was turning purple, a vein was bulging in his forehead. I'd never seen Iggy so mad. The worst part was that I deserved it.
I was nothing more than the lowest scum destined to crawl upon the earth forever. I was so low that the bugs that eat cow dung wouldn't even come near me if it was a choice between that and a slow, painful, horrifying death.
Iggy punched me in the face, then stormed out of the room and slammed the door so hard it shook the building.
It was all my fault. Everything was my fault.
My conscience had already caught up with me. It had never left to begin with.
But I would look for her. I would look for her until I died.
Max POV
I looked on, watching the scene from the balcony. The curtains were mostly drawn and no one had even bothered a glance outward.
As Fang read the note, his face had contorted with grief and anger at himself. Good. He deserved it.
I was frustrated that Angel had told them what I'd thought. But it didn't matter now. They wouldn't be able to find me unless I wanted them too.
Nudge and Gazzy were in hysterics on the bed. I wanted more than anything to go comfort them, hold them in my arms, wipe away their tears and chase away their fears. But I couldn't do that. I had to go.
I was thankful Iggy had stood up for me so much. And I was thoroughly glad Fang felt some remorse. For all I cared at this point, he could go die in a ditch somewhere and be tossed in a common grave like the people who had succumbed to the plague in London in the seventeenth century. He deserved the plague. He was no better than the lowest of all lows. He was a whitecoat sent from my own personal private Hell to torture me.