That was it. The grand escape story, explained by Brax. Bada bing bada boom. Not writing a book any time soon, not because he lacked the ways of communication, but because hewantedto lack them.
I didn’t linger on the subject since the other questions I had prepared for the night would certainly drain the last drop of patience out of him. He knew something essential. Something that was now overdue for me to find out.
With his storycompleted, he stepped outside on the balcony, reaching for a whiskey decanter that was waiting for him on a small metal table. His glass filled and emptied itself in less than a minute as mykingseemed to be attending a drinking competition. Typical Brax.
‘Are you even supposed to drink?’
‘I’m not supposed to do a lot of things and still, I do them. I need the whiskey. It helps the pills slip down my throat.’
‘Water also does that.’
‘I told you before. I don’t drink water after six.’
‘At least he didn’t shoot you in your sense of humor.’
‘Probably not. Is that why you keep testing it?’
I was approaching a red line again. One that I wasn’t going to cross tonight since I went there looking for answers, not an argument.
‘Sorry for looking out for you,’ I shrugged, heading back to the bedroom.
‘I can take care of myself. I don’t need you to play Mother Theresa.’
I pretended not to hear him since I didn’t like where the conversation was going. He never appreciated anything and he wasn’t going to start now, so I was running my mouth for nothing. Besides, I had more urgent problems to solve.
‘Can I ask you something?’ I took a seat on his leather sofa, glancing at the balcony door.
‘Hold on,’ after refilling his glass he returned to the room with the ammunition he needed toendureme.
His limp was as visible as it was two days ago. He was in pain. I could see it all over his gorgeous face as with each step he took his jawline tightened and the green color of his eyes was disappearing under his eyelids. So many times I wanted to put a bullet into him myself but seeing him injured was building a gap in the pit of my stomach.
‘You can talk now,’ he breathed as he took a seat on the side of the bed, trying to find a comfortable position in which he could remain, whilst his hand clutched onto the sheets with gritted teeth, further betraying his pain.
‘You seem to know Ferris pretty well-’ I didn’t get to finish.
‘Did he hurt you?’ his eyes blazed straight at me.
‘No. But he... He has someissues.’
‘Issues!? I’m pretty sure the doctors gave him a diagnosis for hisissues.’ Brax seemed to be a lot more informed than I was, and that was exactly why he was the only one who could help me understand what was going on.
‘Doctors?’ I took a deep breath, thinking about what could possibly be the secret everyone was hiding from me.
‘Yes. He’s been in one of those institutions for six months. The kind that tries to un-fuck your brain.’ Brax let out a heavy breath ‘I was the one that put him there.’
‘Like a mental institution?’ I asked with a hint of shock trembling in my voice.
But he didn’t answer, and by the look in his eyes, he just understood that I knew nothing on the subject.
‘Brax, I’m sorry to be asking you. But you seem to care about him. I need to know what I’m up against. I don’t want to fix him or whatever idea you may have about me. I just don’t want to do something stupid and hurt him. It’s like walking on eggshells when I’m around him and it’s not me who’s breaking, it’shim.’
‘I’m not sure he can break more than he already is, but have it your way. Bring me my cigs first.’
It was as if he was intentionally dragging it out, prolonging the truth that I had needed for so long.
I rushed to recover the pack of cigarettes from the balcony, also grabbing a crystal ashtray from the outside table.
‘Here,’ I gave him his cigs, then placed the ashtray on the nightstand next to him and regained my spot on the holstered sofa.
