Paint the town blue

Chapter XXVIII

Charles's POV

It's been a few days since my escape attempt, and although my leg still hurts, it's not as hellish as it used to be. Maybe it's because a cast magically appeared on my broken limb? I swear, I have no idea how he appeared like that, and Max answered my questions only by saying that he personally putting it on. When I started asking questions about where he got the material from in the first place, and how he knew how to do it properly, he either avoided answering, or said his favorite phrase: "You'll find out soon." Damn it, how long can I wait?

He often called someone on the phone, but he spoke in a low voice and still didn't mention the name of his interlocutor, and it became more and more interesting for me to find out who was talking to him on the other end of the line. Do I know this person? Have we met before? Maybe he taught Max all these medical tricks? I'm curious to find out who this person is, but for some reason I'm scared. What if this is really my friend, and he was aware of Max's plans even before his escape? Or maybe he was helping him? Even if he helped, why?

I was sitting in the living room and looking at my cast leg, which Max had carefully placed on a pillow on the couch to make it more comfortable for me. Caring, yes, if I forget that it was he who broke my leg, and in such a cruel way. I was thinking about something, and it took me a moment to notice my captor enter the room. He quietly came up to me and lightly patted my hair, thereby bringing me back from the world of my thoughts to reality.

"What are you thinking about?"

"As if you don't know."

"I can guess, but I don't know for sure."

He sat down on the armchair next to the sofa and looked at my leg. "Does it hurt much?" he asked softly, and I just shrugged my shoulders. I really don't understand how much it hurt or not hurt at all, because I've been living in pain lately, either mentally or physically, so pain is my normal state. It even sounds kind of sad.

Max said lunch would be ready soon, but I said I didn't want to eat and I didn't have an appetite as such. He smiled and called me an asshole, and I rolled my eyes and smiled back. He reached out to me again and lightly patted my hair.

"I'll bring you lunch now."

"I'm not going to eat until you finally tell me everything."

"I won't tell you anything if you don't eat."

"Well, then I'll starve to death and it'll be on your conscience."

I laughed softly, and Max grumbled something under his breath, then he silently got up from his chair and went to the kitchen. While he was away, I made myself comfortable on the couch, rested my head on the armrest and closed my eyes. My leg ached unpleasantly, but it hardly hurt if I didn't touch it. Max gave me pills regularly - first he gave me two, now he gave me three. As he told me, one of them is an analgesic, the second is for reparative bone regeneration, the third is an antibiotic. Apparently, an unknown interlocutor brought him drugs, because lately Max has hardly left the house, and if he did, it was only with me. We didn't go anywhere far from house, he just helped me go out on the veranda with him to sit in the fresh air. He is sure that with a broken leg I won't run away from him anywhere, and I began to catch myself thinking that I...that I don't really want to run away.

While I was lost in thought again, Max came back from the kitchen. He said it was time to sit down at the table, then he wanted to help me get up and reached for my leg with his hands, but I immediately slapped his hands lightly.

"What are you doing?"

"I told you I won't eat if you don't tell me anything."

Max sighed heavily, then quietly said, "Okay." At first it seemed to me that I had misheard, and therefore I asked him again, and he only repeated his agreement. Am I finally going to get any answers? He reached for my leg again, but I reached out and put my arm around his shoulders. Max was a little taken aback, and I buried my nose in his neck and smiled at my little victory. I'm sure he could feel my smile on his skin, and he was probably smiling himself.