Life After Death (#1)

Chapter Twenty Eight

"Get your fucking hands off her!" Max growled at Otto.

"Look, Max, we've been through this. Me, knife, her throat, lots of friends, lots of guns. Then there's you. Alone. No friends," Otto gleefully described, with such exuberance.

Max was more scared than he had ever been of anyone or anything. Not only was Otto threatening, he was so horrifyingly unhinged to his very core. Usually in a confrontation, Max could read the other person, plan out his next move; but with Otto there was no chance. Even he himself probably didn't know what he would do next.

"Oh, I'm sorry, of course, how silly of me! You did have a friend!" Otto giggled, emphasising heavily on the word 'did'; his eyes wide with joy.

Otto turned and nodded to one of the two armed men standing guard at the bedroom door. He exited the room briefly before returning with a black sack. He passed it to Otto carefully; even his henchmen looked terrified of him. He seemed to be far more affected by the disease, far closer to changing into one of those monsters.

Otto grabbed the sack, and threw it to the floor in front of Max's feet. The sack and its contents thudded onto the wooden floor, followed by an eerie silence. Otto gave the bag an excited little kick, as the object within rolled out onto the floor.

"OH SHIT!!" Lizzie screamed at the top of her voice, but still drowned out by the insane cackling coming from within Otto.

Max looked down at the object, now resting on the toes of his shoes. Mona's severed head stared back at him, the eyes still wide open; full of shock, pain and horror. Around her mouth, they had painted a wide clown like grin in bright red lipstick. The flesh hung loosely from her neck and it looked to have been hacked off slowly, rather than one clean cut. The smell of rotting flesh shot up Max's nostrils; it was a smell he would never be able to forget.

Max looked away, fighting the urge to be sick. Even after he had looked away, he could still see her face, etched forever in his memory.

His body was awash with emotions. Guilt, for the sacrifice Mona had made; fear, that Lizzie would meet the same fate; and anger, that people like Otto still existed in this world. Max fought all his urges and slowly looked up at Otto. He looked deep into his eyes intensely, waiting for his next move. Max wasn't playing his games. Otto wanted him to lash out; he wanted an excuse to shoot him in the leg or to cut Lizzie's throat.

Otto met his stare, willing him to lunge forward, willing him to test his nerve. Max stayed still, shooting a hateful look back at the crazy man.

"Boring," Otto mumbled like a young child, before gesturing towards Max with his head.

The two men by the door moved towards him. They had guns, and Otto still had the knife to Lizzie's throat. For now, Max would have to just go along with this.

"Oh, I so look forward to seeing you in the pit, Max," Otto sniggered.

Otto's henchmen grabbed Max, one under each arm, before the man to his right smashed the butt of his rifle down hard on Max's head.

"MAX!" Lizzie yelled.

Everything went black.

Max was back at university, curled up in his bed. He moved his arm to his left to squeeze her closer, but he only clasped air. His eyes blinked open unwillingly and he yawned. The bathroom light was on.

"Come back to bed, you tit!" Max called out playfully.

Her cute face poked out from around the bathroom door. She tried to look mad at him, but after a couple of seconds couldn't help but break into a grin. She liked it when he called her that really; it was endearing. She wandered back towards the bed and climbed back in next to him, snuggling her chin into his chest. Max pulled her tightly into his body and held her there.

"I love you so much," he said, kissing the top of her head.

He looked down, awaiting her reply, but she was already sound asleep, her breath brushing his bare chest.

Max smiled.

Suddenly the picture changed. Max was in a house, but years later, lying in bed once more, an empty space beside him again.

"Come back to bed, you tit!" Max called out.

He waited for her little face to pop round the door as always but nothing came.

"Tit?"

No reply.

Max pulled himself out of bed, stretching and yawning as he did so. He stumbled out the bedroom door, and down the stairs. She was standing in the kitchen, fully clothed, a bag by her side.

Max crept up behind her, grabbing her from behind and tickling her as he often did. She jumped out her skin, turning round and smacking him over and over on the arm.

"Max, no! Not now!" she yelled, which quickly turned into muffled laughs.

Only they weren't laughs, she was crying.

"What's wrong?" Max asked urgently, pulling her into an embrace.

She pushed him away.

"Max, I can't do this anymore!" she blurted out between the tears.

"Wha...what do you mean 'this'?" Max asked nervously, grabbing hold of a nearby chair.

"This, here, us! I just can't," she sobbed.

"What do you mean? What are you saying?" Max asked hesitantly, sitting down in the chair. "Is this because of the baby?" he added.

She nodded, unable to structure a sentence through her crying.

"You think I don't think about that little guy every day too?" Max pleaded, standing back up and touching her arm.

"Max, I just can't. I've made up my mind. Seeing you is just a reminder of everything," she explained, now making deep tear-filled eye contact with him. "We both know we were too young for all this Max. I love you, and you will always be the one, but you're not ready. You're still so immature, you're still finding yourself, and that's okay, but I need to take a step back. I'm sorry. I love you," she sobbed, before wiping her eyes and picking up her bag.

Max was frozen into place, not sure what to say, or how to say it. Before he knew it, she was at the door.

"Please, wait! Let's talk about this!" he yelled the most generic things that came to mind.

"Goodbye Max," she said softly, brushing her hand on top of his before walking away.

He stood there, watching the one person he had ever loved, the only person he ever would love, as she walked away.