That Little Letter

Epilogue

The air in the house felt the same as it had always: heavy, but breathable. Max's uncle had returned home the day after the events that occurred the day before, leaving him blind as to what his nephew had done. Of course, he didn't know that Max had learnt that he was not really his father. All he knew was that Max was suffering from something dark within himself, and he was ready to deepen it whenever he was called to do so. 

It was when Max's uncle went toward Max's door when he realized something was different. There was no sounds of movement on the other side of the door. Though movement was usually very quiet when it came to Max, his uncle usually heard at least something on the other side of the door. Nevertheless, he banged his already balled fist on the closed door, like he usually did. But when there was still no sound on the other side, he realized something had changed. 

He brought his hand down to the door knob and twisted it open. Without catching a breath before throwing it open all the way, his eyes landed upon a body in the corner, hanging by a nuce that was attached to the ceiling above. Max's uncle coughed out the trapped air that was remained in his lungs after laying his eyes on the body. "Max.." He whispered as he stared upon the body in front of him, slowly twirling in circles. His body was limb and looked like it could've been a punching bag for someone who needed to train for some sort of wrestling match.

There was a deep silence as Max's uncle stared at the boy with a feeling of loss hidden deep within a heart full of hate. He had messed up. Didn't he? Or was this what he wanted all along? He stared at the body in both shock and fear, worried that he had done wrong though he had planned an ending similar to this one.

Either way, Max's uncle couldn't do anything about it not except for leave the body hanging in the corner of the room and bolting out of the house to keep hidden from the crime scene. That was what he needed to do.

And before he could hear the phone ring, he bolted out of the house.

_____

Dove read the email over and over again, not sure what Max had meant by anything he had wrote out. The meaning behind the words seemed to have lost their true definition in her mind, as if they were just letters and not sentences. As if this was gibberish rather than English.

It was when she read it over a seventh time when she realized what it could possibly mean. She quickly prayed that she wasn't too late and quickly wrote an email back.

'Don't do it, Max! Please! Think about me, think about what we could be! Max, please...please don't do this! TALK TO ME!'

When there was no response within twenty minutes of sending it, she wrote out another one.

'MAX ANSWER ME RIGHT NOW. MAX!! PLEASE.'

Dove had done that for the rest of the evening until she decided to pick up the phone and call his house. It was hard to remember the number, but he had briefly mentioned it in one of their first conversations. She never used it because he said only for emergencies...and to her, she knew deep down this was one of them.

She dialed the numbers into the phone and let it ring. And ring...and ring...and ring. Then there was the voicemail..

She had missed her chance.

Max was gone.

And in an instant, she was weeping on the corner of her bed, praying that this was only a dream.

If only it was...

Or is it?