Chapter Two

Maximillian

People say we each have our personal prisons, even though we're not physically confined; sometimes, we choose to remain trapped. It had been a year since my best friend Darius passed away, and I hadn't moved past my grief. 

How could I, when everything around me served as a reminder of him? His face haunted my dreams, his laughter echoed in my ears, and his voice lingered, sharing dreams of a future he'd never witness, all ended by my own hands. I resented the pity mirrored in my parents' and siblings' expressions, and their delicate treatment of me as if I were a ticking time bomb. Rejecting their sympathy felt rude, and I couldn't openly express my disdain for my privileged life.

Writing a farewell letter to my parents proved to be the most challenging task I'd ever faced, yet it was necessary. I couldn't be certain if leading an ordinary life would ease my guilt or bring slight comfort, but regardless, I'd acknowledge my suffering as deserved. Having completed my letter, I sealed it in an envelope and placed it on my reading table, ensuring it was in a noticeable spot. 

It needed to be found promptly, but not too quickly, allowing me time to escape. I was certain my mom, who worried excessively about me, would be the first to discover it. I didn't wish to subject her to this emotional rollercoaster, but being apart was healthier for both of us. Perhaps, in the future, I could return as the son she remembered, as this version of myself was unrecognizable even to me. 

At 1 am, I grabbed a backpack, filled it with discreet clothes and two pairs of shoes. After securing my wallet in my jeans, I removed my credit cards, ensuring I had enough money to sustain me until I found a job, then quietly left my bedroom. Having pondered for two months, I devised an escape plan. 

I studied the guards, noting their shifts and positions around the palace and gates. Exiting the house was a breeze, but the real challenge lay in bypassing the gates or scaling the fence. I tiptoed across the lawn, crawling quietly when necessary, until I reached the farthest tree in the corner, scaled it to the highest branch, and hid there. 

After making sure the guards were gone, I carefully approached the fence, threw my jacket over the barbed wire, and jumped down. Experiencing a sharp pain from my knee to my ankle, I gritted my teeth in frustration. My left leg, injured in the accident, had undergone reconstructive surgery, sparing me a lifetime of limping. Now, I worried I might have worsened it, especially since I was still recovering from my second hospitalization incident.

Testing my leg to determine the extent of the injury, I sighed in relief when I found I could walk normally. Realizing my father's money had not gone to waste, I waved a final goodbye to the house, placed a black baseball cap on my head, and went my way.

~~~~~

"I heard the bad news. I'm sorry for your loss. May her soul rest in peace. What are you going to do now? How will you take care of your children?" The man consoled his friend, expressing his condolences.

The friend, wearing a resigned expression, replied, "I intend to go back to my hometown. There's nothing for me here anymore. At least, my father's house is there waiting for me. I can work on the farm to take care of myself and my children. All I need right now is money."

"What about your truck? Sell it and use the money to travel." The man suggested.

The friend sighed. "And what will I use to carry my belongings? It's at the mechanic's shop waiting for me to come and get it after I've paid Silas all the money I've been owing him. It's really not fair of me to repay his goodness with evil."

"How much do you need?" The man inquired.

"I'm owing Silas twenty thousand. I need at least forty thousand." The widower replied.

"That's tough. I don't have any money right now." The man said.

Listening to these men discuss gave me an idea. All I needed to know was where he was headed and how fast he could leave before my father would send his guards out to look for me. I was cutting it too close as it was and couldn't afford to go back home. 

Stepping out from behind the abandoned bus, I stood in front of them, startling them. They quickly composed their features when they realized how young I was and that I was unarmed.

"Who are you?" One of them questioned.

"I'm sorry to drop in on you like this, but I overheard your conversation. You said you need money, don't you?" I inquired.

The men eyed me warily, but I could see they were considering that I didn't look like a thief or a scammer. They exchanged silent looks until the one in need of money spoke up.

"I do. May I ask why?" He questioned.

"I'll double the amount if you take me along," I offered. "But, we must leave within thirty minutes."

"What's your name?" He inquired.

"It doesn't matter. I'll provide the money you need and pay you to take me wherever you're going," I explained. "But first, where are you headed? Is it far from Mercia?"

"It's a two-day journey without traffic or stops," He replied. "I'm heading to Havindelle, the last of the five kingdoms."

The mention of Havindelle brought back memories; my dad had once mentioned it was enemy territory. Grandpa had eliminated the entire royal family, and King Elroy's cousin had claimed the throne. Dad didn't like the late King's cousin either, but he seemed better than his predecessor.

"Perfect," I said. "I'll triple the amount if you leave your belongings behind."

Despite their initial wariness, the men couldn't resist the tempting offer. The man nodded, exchanged a handshake with his friend, and we departed. In less than an hour, with only their clothes for the trip, the man bundled up his three kids in the truck, and we began our journey to Havindelle.

~~~~

I could have accompanied the man to his house in Havindelle for the night, but I anticipated his expectations: covering accommodation and dinner costs. Initially doubtful, he became cheerful upon seeing the cash, addressing me as 'sir.'

I wandered without a clear destination, relying on his tip about a one-star hotel nearby. Planning to stay there for the night and search for a better place later, I dismissed approaching footsteps, assuming they were mine. However, I had to acknowledge that I was about to be robbed as two men brandishing pocket knives blocked my path. 

I sighed, shook my head, and turned around, only to face three more men—one with a toy gun, the second with a baton, and the third with a dagger.

"I don't have the energy to face all five of you tonight," I declared. "But if you don't leave right now, I'll have to teach you a lesson."

"Five against one? That's amusing. Hand over your belongings, and we won't harm you." The supposed leader, his high top fade dreadlocks framing his face, retorted.

With a sardonic smirk, I cracked my knuckles. "Looks like you'll have to try and take them." 

Dreadlocks exchanged glances with his mates before they lunged at me together. However, I skillfully dodged their blows, swiftly incapacitating one or two with powerful strikes to their stomachs and delivering a precise uppercut to another guy's chin, sending them sprawling to the ground.

Engaged in a stare-down with dreadlocks, I was caught off guard and couldn't dodge the blow that struck the back of my head, causing me to slump to the ground in pain. An irritated hiss escaped my lips as I tried to rise, but they relentlessly attacked me with kicks and punches, and one of them cut me with a knife.

"You should've handed over your stuff," Dreadlocks sneered, seizing my backpack. "And for that... Strip him down."

Left in just my underwear, I endured another brutal kick to my ribs. Through blurred vision, I watched them walk away, laughing and chatting. I recognized their faces; revenge would be mine later. For now, oddly, I wasn't furious—it felt like a well-deserved lesson.

As darkness enveloped me, a man's voice asked if I was alright, countered by a woman telling him not to bother. I wanted to agree with her, but my eyelids grew heavy, and I succumbed to unconsciousness.