"Max! What are you doing? Let him go!" my father shouted from behind . He grabbed my wrist and tried to pull away, but I wouldn't budge.
"Max, let him go now! Why are you doing this?" His voice rose with alarm.
"Mother's missing," I snarled, refusing to release my grip. "I think he's involved. So he'd better speak right now!"
My father kept pulling, desperation in his eyes. "Calm yourself, boy. How's he supposed to talk if you're choking the life out of him?"
Realizing I was about to suffocate him, I let go.
"Speak!" I barked.
Rohan collapsed to his knees, coughing and clutching his chest. When he didn't answer, I lost control and punched him hard across the face.
"Speak"
My father rushed in and shoved back, shielding .
"Calm yourself!" he ordered, voice sharp and commanding. That tone, the one that demanded obedience, stopped cold.
I stood there, shaking, trying to tamp down the rage burning in my chest.
"Do you know anything about Ava?" my father asked Rohan, who was still coughing.
"I don't know anything! Please, stop hurting !" Rohan wheezed, backing away on his hands.
He tried to run, but before I could react, my father shouted, "Stop! Look—your mother's over there!"
I spun. At the top of the stairs, Ava stood in the doorway of the siblings' room.
"Mom!" I shouted and sprinted toward her. Relief and guilt slamd into at once. "Where were you? I called...I thought sothing happened!"
Ava looked shaken but unhard. "I heard Rohan's sister crying," she said softly. Concern and a trace of fear shaded her face.
Seeing that fear twisted sothing inside . She wasn't afraid of Rohan. She was afraid of .
"Max," she said quietly but firmly, "that boy isn't bad. You acted without understanding the full picture... You hit him."
Her words cut deeper than any wound. I dropped my head. "I'm sorry," I murmured.
She crossed her arms. "Say it to him. You made a mistake... go apologize."
Her tone left no room for argunt. I nodded and went downstairs.
As soon as I appeared, my father watched with wary eyes. Rohan backed away the mont he saw ; fear flickered across his face.
I stopped a few steps away, keeping my distance. The apology lodged in my throat, why was it so hard to say?
Finally, I exhaled. "Rohan… I'm sorry for punching you. I thought you'd done sothing, but I was wrong. I'm sorry." I bowed my head.
Rohan glared through swollen eyes. "You almost killed ," he whispered, still shaking. "You bastard." Then he turned and walked away.
My father watched for a long mont, then rested a heavy hand on my shoulder.
"Look at , Max."
Reluctantly, I t his eyes.
"As a man, you need to control your anger," he said quietly. "Blind rage only brings destruction—to you and to everyone who cares about you. Learn that before it's too late."
He patted my shoulder once and walked away.
I realized I was getting more violent and less empathetic. I had almost ripped Rohan's throat out—I wasn't afraid to kill. It was surreal: a dead body used to terrify , and now, less than a day later, I was numb enough to do it without blinking.
Maybe it was because I'm in Agent 47's body. He'd been engineered to be less empathetic—drugs, training, brainwashing to create an emotionless killer. Still, he kept so humanity—love, hatred—which I find strangely fascinating: how soone can remain human after all that.
In this Walking-Dead world, less empathy can be an asset. Still, I felt guilty for hitting Rohan without thinking. I needed to control my anger before it destroyed .
Or maybe I didn't feel guilt at all. Maybe I only felt this because I saw my mother look at with fear. That look tightened my chest—it hurt more than any wound. I was afraid she'd never look at the sa. The thought terrified . Feelings are complicated; I didn't want to think about it anymore.
With that, I went upstairs to talk with Mom.
Ava sat on the sofa, lost in thought. I started to walk away so as not to disturb her, but she called back.
"Wait, Max. Co here. I want to talk to you."
I walked slowly over and sat beside her with my head hanging low. My heart hamred with an inexplicable nervousness.
"You remind of John—fiercely protective of what he loves, and cold to everyone else. I rember how you used to cry when an animal was hurt. I miss that, Max. He was always kind. But sotis I think it's better to be like John in this world." She paused, then added softly, searching my face, "Never lose your humanity, even if everyone else has."
The silence that followed was heavier than her words. I didn't fully understand, but I nodded. She smiled; warmth in her eyes cald . Then she handed a small packet of pills. "These are painkillers. Give them to Rohan, and apologize again."
I nodded and left the room. Relief swelled; she was still the mother I'd always known. As I walked down the hallway, I heard voices below: my father and uncle.
"…John, what are you thinking? You're being unusually… kind," Matthew said, watching him.
John's voice was low. "This place has running water, electricity, food—everything we need. I thought maybe we should get rid of the siblings and take it all. But I know you won't agree. The smarter move is to earn their trust. If they accept us, great; if not, I'll deal with them."
Matthew scoffed. "Heartless as ever. Even with the world in chaos, you still try to exploit people."
John put a hand on Matthew's shoulder. "If it cos down to choosing between those siblings, I'll pick us. Winter's coming, we need a safe place with food and water. This is perfect."
"What if sothing goes wrong? What's the plan if this motel becos dangerous?" Matthew asked.
John answered calmly, "If it falls apart, we head for the savannah. Find a boat and try to reach Canada or a remote island. Wait there until soone invents a vaccine. That's the fallback."
They shifted to other topics. I felt a cold knot in my stomach. Hearing that from my father surprised . I hadn't realized how far he might go. They stopped talking and began searching for a walkie-talkie. I knocked on the siblings' door.
User Comments
0 comments from readers