Part 27 (1/2)
Then when?
Soon.
I am eighteen. I can b.l.o.o.d.y well Don't use that language with me. You may be an adult, but if you need to throw that in my face, you're not acting like one, are you? You are temporarily under my care, despite your age, and ”Max?” Riley says.
”Yes, I'm listening.”
Which he is, even if he's struggling to keep up, and it's not just the accent and how fast she's talkingit's what she's saying. He cannot believe what she's saying.
Really, Max? Really? No, you believe it just fine. It's exactly what you feared.
Reality: the world or the state of things as they actually exist, as opposed to an idealistic or notional idea of them.
This was his new reality. A world where, when anything went wrong, the blame would land squarely on his shoulders because he was, certifiably, crazy. Any act of violence that involved him could be laid directly at his feetthe perfect walking-and-talking scapegoat. He could whine and moan about that, but he'd already proven it wasn't a baseless accusation, hadn't he? After what he'd done to Justin?
This was what he has to look forward to: a life spent waiting to be accused of exactly this. A life spent knowing that when the accusation comes, it might very well be valid. That he might very well have done it.
Which was no life. No life at all, and furthermore, not one he cared to live. And thatthatwas his choice, wasn't it?
Max?
Nothing. Never mind. Go away.
”What?”
He jumps, sees the look on Riley's face and realizes it was her saying his name, not his inner voice, and worse, he'd replied aloud.
b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l, b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l, b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l.
”Sorry,” he mumbles. ”I didn't mean That wasn't for you. It's ...”
He realizes what he's saying and sees the look on her face. Oh, yes, that's better, Max. So much better.
”Voices,” she murmurs, and she nods abruptly, as if processing this as fact and moving on. ”I know that's a symptom, so okay.”
”It's not ... I don't ...” He takes a deep breath. ”It's not really like that. It's ...” He trails off and shrugs. ”Never mind.”
”No, go on. Please.”
He squeezes the bridge of his nose. ”I don't like to make excuses. To minimize my condition. I was going to say it's not that kind of a voice, but how do I know? It might very well be. Or perhaps it's evolving into that. All I know is there's a voice. It's mine. It's always been there. It doesn't tell me what to do. It just ...” He shrugs. ”It's like me arguing with myself.”
”Doesn't everyone do that?”
”Maybe. Perhaps mine is different. I just ... I don't want to deny that I have a symptom if I do. For now, I'll just say that it's never told me to do anything stupid. It's usually telling me not to.”
”What was it telling you not to do this time?”
He tenses. She pulls back.
”Sorry,” she says. ”I'm prying. We shouldn't be talking about this anyway. We really do need to go, Max. If you do it now, you've only left a hospital against doctor's orders. That's not a crime. But as soon as they tell you you're being charged ...”
”It's entirely another matter.”
”Yes. Will you come with me?”
He manages a quirk of a smile. ”Are you offering to take me away from all this, Riley Vasquez?”
She returns the smile, a little too bright, relieved he's back to himself. ”I am. We're breaking out of here. Sloane is all set with a distraction. As soon as you're ready to go ...”
He shoves his journal and pen into his jacket and pulls it on. ”Ready.”
CHAPTER 29.
As I told Max, getting us out of the hospital isn't illegal. Of course, we can't just stroll out, either, or I'm sure someone would summon the police to get those charges laid ASAP. So Sloane distracts the floor staff while we sneak out. Yes, Sloane is letting her little sister leave with a guy accused of ma.s.s murder. That took some work. While she calls bulls.h.i.+t on the charges, she wasn't keen on me leaving the hospital with anyone, given my condition. I convinced her, though, and she was the one who'd offered to help with the staff and then keep an eye on Brienne, in case the killers came back.
Max's boots and jacket are evidence now, but his mother had brought him replacements from homeanother pair of Doc Martens and a vintage leather motorcycle jacket. Not that he'd had much use for either in the hospital, but I think she was trying to make him more comfortable, like my mother bringing the tattered stuffed marmoset my dad brought home from a training trip when I was little.
Max and I a.s.sume that once the detectives realize he and I are gone, they'll put out a BOLO for a Hispanic teen girl walking with a blond guy. We split up and take side roads until we're far enough away that it seems safe to regroup and talk.
I tell Max everythingfrom Lorenzo to Brienne's brother. Then I tell him all of my research and my plans. He says nothing until I finish, and then, ”That's ... brilliant.”
I look over sharply, thinking he might be, if not exactly mocking me, maybe a little amused. But he seems stunned. After a moment he says, ”I don't know what I've done to deserve this, Riley.”
”You saved my life.”
He goes quiet, his boots clomping on the sidewalk. Then he says, ”I could have got you killed.”
When I look over, he's facing straight ahead.
”You need to know that,” he says. ”To understand. What I'm capable of.”
”I know you can have delusions. There was something in the articles about a violent incident back in England.”
He stiffens. I hurry on, ”I'm guessing there's some truth to that. From the way you tried to avoid fights in the warehouse, I thought maybe your father abused you ...”
His head whips my way. Then he lets out a sharp laugh. ”Excellent deduction, but no. My father can be a bit of a b.a.s.t.a.r.d, but he's never raised a hand to me. Neither of my parents has. They say that's one possible precipitating factor for schizophreniaan abusive family lifebut it isn't the case with me. We have our issues, but they're more issues of expectation. Only child. High-achieving parents. Formerly high-achieving son.”
”I'm sorry.”
A pained chuckle. ”That sounded bitter, didn't it?”
”Frustrated.”
He shrugs it off with a roll of his shoulders. Rather not talk about it, Riley. Let's skip the therapy and stick to the plan, shall we?
But after a few more steps, he says, ”The incident ... what you read in the papers. I should explain.”