The Edge Of Insanity

6-Aléxis

I am shaking from all the possibilities happening at the same time: the pain of a headache, my skin rash, the panic of potentially being a murderer, and now my foot hurts. I almost sob. "Fuck!" I yell into the empty space.

Max wraps his arms around me to help me get up from the ground. "Are you okay, dude?" he asks with a worried tone while checking my left foot. He touches it, and I feel excruciating pain in my left knee. I've always had problems with my knee due to an old injury.

"Aaaaakh... Max... Max... Max... gently, that hurts a ton," I scream at his touch.

"Oops, sorry," he says, thinking aloud, "Should I get help?"

"Like what? An ambulance?" I recall my financial status and realize it would cost me a fortune. "Nah, forget it, Max. I can manage it."

"Are you sure?" Max asks while standing my bike up and turning off the engine.

I try to move and walk, but the pain is so extreme that I give up.

"Wait for me here, I'll take my mother's car and be back soon." Max then helps me sit on a rock and takes my bike with him.

I wait for a solid 10 minutes until I see him returning in an old caravan. It's a beat-up relic, reminiscent of the ones you see in movies about road trips gone wrong.

The paint is chipped and faded, with rust spots dotting the edges. The windows are grimy, and the roof has a slight sag, hinting at years of weathering storms.

The tires look worn but still functional, as if they've traveled thousands of miles without a break.

This old caravan brings back memories of the one I used to drive it all the time, hauling us around for my life rescue.

The inside is just as you'd expect: mismatched upholstery, a faint smell of old leather and engine oil, and the ever-present clutter of road maps and snack wrappers.

It's like stepping back in time, and despite its shabby appearance, it has a comforting familiarity. Max pulls up beside me, and I can't help but crack a smile at the sight of that old beast.

Max helps me into the car. "Your place is near the hospital, right?"

"Yeah, just a few blocks away," I reply, wincing as I settle into the seat.

Max nods, starting the engine. The old caravan rumbles to life, the familiar hum of its engine bringing a strange sense of comfort.

As we drive, I can't help but feel a mix of frustration and relief. The pain in my knee is relentless, but at least I'm in safe hands now.

The drive is bumpy, each pothole sending a jolt of pain through my leg. Max tries to avoid them, but the old caravan isn't exactly known for its smooth ride.

The interior is just as I remembered it. It's like stepping back in time, a stark contrast to the chaos of the last few minutes.

Max glances over at me. "Hang in there, man. We're almost there."

I nod, gritting my teeth against the pain. "Thanks, Max. I appreciate it."

We finally pull up in front of my apartment building. Max helps me out of the car, supporting my weight as we make our way to the entrance.

Looking at the helical stairs to climb up until third floor, Max worries about my condition. "Do you need me to stay?" he asks, concern etched on his face.

I shake my head. "No, I'll be fine. Just need to get some rest and maybe see a doctor tomorrow."

Max hesitates, then nods. "Alright, call me if you need anything." He sneaks in something on my pocket while glaring at me. "To reduce the pain."