Peanut Butter Fingerprints

Chapter Thirty

"Greatness is Next to Madness"

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"Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown."

-Henry the Fourth, Part 2 Act 3, scene 1, line 31

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America

Through the hazy fog of sleep clouding my mind, I heard a guttural growl. My brain told me the low snarl had come from Maxon, though it didn't sound like it belonged to him-or a human, for that matter. But as I opened my eyes and pushed myself up, sure enough, he was standing just inches from Aspen, heaving breaths, clenching his fists, and releasing a low, threatening growl. The anger displayed on his face was almost feral-like; his teeth were barred like a wolf threatening its prey, and his dilated pupils reflected the cold look etched into Aspen's features.

I didn't know what words had been exchanged between the two of them while I was unconscious, but I assumed they were anything but friendly. Something said had definitely struck a chord in Maxon, which wasn't hard to do with his easily offended temper.

When Maxon was this angry, there was no telling what he would do and when. I was smart enough to know that he was beyond the point of calming down; Maxon was riled up enough to throw a punch, and that was the last thing I wanted to happen before our children were born. (Can you imagine having to tell my children how their father punched someone in the face just hours before they were born?)

I knew I couldn't let them fight in here, but I couldn't stand in my condition. At the moment, the last thing I was capable of doing was breaking up a fight. But I needed to do something, anything.

I cried Maxon's name a moment too late; his hands shot out like snakes launching at their prey and closed around Aspen's throat. In a flash of camouflage and navy blue, Maxon and Aspen collapsed to the ground in a flurry of grunts, curses, and flailing hands and knees.

"MAXON! MAXON, STOP!" I screamed as I watched Aspen struggle against Maxon's lethal grip.

My hands shook; my chest tightened. I watched in horror as Aspen's lips faded to blue and cheeks paled. I could tell he was losing air quickly, as his limbs grew limp and he stopped struggling. Just as I was expecting Aspen to pass out, he drew his knee up sharply in a last ditch effort and nailed Maxon in the center of his chest.

Maxon sucked in a sharp breath as Aspen knocked the air out of his lungs. He loosened his grip out of shock, and Aspen managed to sneak in a quick breath before kneeing Maxon once more with more force. This time, it was hard enough to knock Maxon off of him. I jumped as Maxon's head slammed with a ringing bang against the metal bench in the middle of the room. As Maxon slumped to the ground, Aspen sat up quickly, gulping in hurried breaths and rubbing his already bruising throat.

"Aspen?" I called softly, worried that if I raised my voice it might wake Maxon.

"I'm okay," Aspen croaked before I could say more, and burst into a fit of coughing. I tried to push myself up to walk over to him, but he waved me away. "Don't strain yourself, Mer. You should be resting."

I nodded vigorously, still paralyzed with fear. After catching his breath, Aspen stood and took slow steps towards Maxon. He stooped down to check his pulse, and worry blossomed in my chest when I noticed how shallowly Maxon was breathing. I instinctively wrapped my arms around my swollen belly and forced back tears.

He's going to be okay, America. Don't panic. You can't afford to panic.

"Is he going to be okay?" I asked softly, biting my lip.