heart over brain

Part 4

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First, I run straight. Away. Towards the empty field. But there is nothing around the gas station in sight for miles besides grey, unwelcoming nature. I change directions and haste for the shop. When I burst in the front door the middle-aged shop keeper throws me a curious glance from behind the counter, another customer stretches her neck over a row of shelfs to wrinkle her pierced nose at me.

I stand there, panting, my mouth opens and closes, words failing me. I still can't say it out loud.

"She urgently needs a bathroom," Max says.

He stands so suddenly so very close behind me, my heart skips a beat.

The shop keeper frowns and points towards a door in the back without a word.

"Go," Max urges me with a hand on my back. The touch sends a wave of heat and dread fighting its way through me.

And I do as he says. I do as he says.

I march past the counter and freezers, through the backdoor, along a short corridor, to the bathroom, like on remote control. I open and close the left one of two stalls. Then I just stand there, the smell biting in my nose, staring ahead at dirty, baby blue tiles with scribbles on them, my brain failing me. Again.

What the hell is wrong with me?

I gulp. Pat myself down for my phone, which of course I don't have on me.

"Shit!" I curse. Shit, shit, shit.

My feet suddenly feel like rubber, my breath is too short, and everything spins dangerously. I tap for the toilet lid, close it, and sit down, trembling like half frozen to death, while my stomach burns.

I hear the bathroom door open and close, then a knock on the stall. "Everything okay?" Max says.

Of course. Of course.

"Go to hell, you pervert!" I yell. "This is the woman's toilet. At least respect that, would you?!"

"I am not a fan of gender stereotypes," he says with a chuckle in his voice. As if that was the problem and his argument a perfectly valid excuse to stalk me like prey.

"Are you okay?"

"No!" I scream, hysteric. Then silence falls and stretches. My breath goes erratic. I can't run from him in here, I am trapped in the stall.

"Listen, I am sorry I put you in this situation. But I am really not going to hurt you, I promise. You don't have to be afraid of me."

"You are a criminal!"

I hear some rustling, one, two steps. "I am really not, though," he says then. "I was wrongly accused. The scapegoat."

"I don't believe you!" Who would? That is the oldest lie in the world.

"I was new in accounting, the company framed me when their shit got discovered because I was the easiest to get rid off. I was sentenced and locked away before I could even start looking for a good lawyer."

I say nothing. Adding details to the lie doesn't make it any truer.

"Look, you don't have to believe me. It's fine if you don't. But the truth is, I never hurt anyone. I was only involved in financial crimes, okay? I would never do anything violent. You don't have to be scared of me."

"You abducted me!"

"You fainted and I wasn't exactly in a position to call an ambulance, but I didn't want to leave you just like that either."

"You threatened me with a knife!"

"I was trying to avoid getting stabbed with it. By you, by the way."

"I would have never!"

"Me neither."

"Then let me go. I am fine now, so you can let me go."

"I can hear your breath. I know you are not fine. So calm down a bit, okay?"

I clench my trembling hands over my heart beating loops in my chest. My breath is way too fast and irregular, but I don't know how to stop it. The walls keep spinning around me.

"I will open the door," Max says.

"No," I want to say, but my throat closes up.

Something clicks, the stall door does unlock from the outside, and opens to Max standing there in front of it, looking at me with concern and caution. He holds a paper bag in one hand, the other is raised in front of him like approaching a wild animal. He slowly takes it down, pulls out a chocolate bar from the paper bag and holds it out towards me. "Eat something. That will help."

I stare at the chocolate bar, then back at him. "Seriously?" I press out.

"Yes, seriously. You need sugar or your body might give out on you again."

That – makes sense, actually. I snap the chocolate bar from him and take a hearty bite. Then I chew and chew and chew, and tears start spilling out of my eyes.

Max crouches down in front of me. He grabs for a paper towel and hands it to me. I snatch it from him and wipe the tears away, but they just don't stop coming. Then I can't breathe again, caught in between sobs and chewing, and my nose is snotty and –

I must look horrible.

I can't see up to the mirror, but I don't need to, to know how my mascara smears with every wipe. How my hair stands off in all directions after laying on the car seat, how pale and sickly my face looks with my stomach rebelling.

Max tilts his head and lets his eyes wander over me like he does not see any of that. He looks concerned, yes, but not in the bad way. More like he is only a breath away from pulling me in a hug and brushing a hand over my head to comfort me like a lost child

He does not do that. He takes out a water bottle from the paper bag, opens it and gives it to me. I drink greedily. I hadn't even noticed how thirsty I was.

"Better?" Max says with a soothing smile. His eyes don't quite stay with me, they stray like he is either shy, or lying through his teeth and plotting to murder me.

I stare at him, at his lips. They look so full and soft and kissable.

God, I am such a weirdo.

"Better," I admit. My heart still races, but not so erratic anymore. Breathing is still difficult, but comes easier. "But I really just don't believe you."

He glimpses away, purses his lips, reaches in an inner pocket of his jacket and hands me my phone. "Maxwell O'Connor," he says. "That's my name. I worked for VisioTec. You can look it up."

I stare down on my phone, slowly take it. Why did he have it?

"I'll wait outside. Come out when you are ready," Max says and stands, next second he is gone.

I stare back at my phone.

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