Page 28
Story: The Vagabond
Brando muttered something under his breath.
I whirled on him. “Say it louder.”
He lifted his gaze to mine. “I said it’s not a chokehold. It’s protection.”
“Yeah? Because being followed to the fucking bathroom is real protective.”
Brando’s jaw tightened.
Mia stepped between us like a buffer. She raised a hand toward me, palm out, gentle. “Max. Talk to me. Not at me.”
I sucked in a breath. Exhaled like it hurt.
“I feel like I’m living inside someone else’s idea of what recovery is supposed to look like,” I said, quieter. “Like I’m being dressed in safety nets and rules and security detail because no one trusts me to exist outside of my own fucking trauma.”
Mia blinked, and I could see her absorbing my words. Her fingers twitched like she wanted to reach for me, but she didn’t.
“I know you’re scared,” I whispered, softer now. “I know you’re all scared of what happens if I’m out there by myself. But I’ve been in cages, Mia. Literal ones. And this—this is just another version of that. The food’s better. The walls are prettier. But it’s still a fucking cage.”
Brando cut in, voice sharp. “You’re not a prisoner here.”
“No,” I shot back, “but I’m not free either.”
Silence again.
It dripped down the walls like oil.
Mia finally spoke, slow and deliberate, directing her words at her husband. “Brando. She’s not a child.”
He stared at her like she’d betrayed him too.
“She’s been through hell,” he said. “I’m not going to let her walk back out there alone. She could get hurt.”
Again.He didn’t say it, but I knew that’s what he meant.
Mia stepped closer to him, hand on his arm. “You’re not letting her do anything. You’re trying to control her.”
Brando exhaled like he’d been punched.
“She’s not the girl we lost. She’s the woman who came back,” Mia says. “And if you keep treating her like she’s glass, she’s going to shatter for real.”
My throat tightened. Because I’d never felt more seen.
Brando didn’t speak right away. His eyes flicked to mine, and there was something raw there. He was terrified.
“She almost died,” he said hoarsely. “Sophia died. We can’t risk losing anyone else.”
“And you won’t be able to save her every time,” Mia said softly. “But you can trust her.”
He didn’t move. Didn’t blink.
Mia turned to me.
“Max,” she said gently. “We’ve been trying to protect you because we love you. Because watching you come back from that place… it’s the bravest thing I’ve ever seen. But you deserve to try. To live again. I just need to know—really know—that you’re doing this because you’re ready. Not because you’re trying to prove something.”
I nodded slowly. My throat was too tight to speak.
Mia stepped forward and wrapped her arms around me, tight, and I sagged into her. All my carnage, all my fire—it sank down into a soft, simmering ache.
I whirled on him. “Say it louder.”
He lifted his gaze to mine. “I said it’s not a chokehold. It’s protection.”
“Yeah? Because being followed to the fucking bathroom is real protective.”
Brando’s jaw tightened.
Mia stepped between us like a buffer. She raised a hand toward me, palm out, gentle. “Max. Talk to me. Not at me.”
I sucked in a breath. Exhaled like it hurt.
“I feel like I’m living inside someone else’s idea of what recovery is supposed to look like,” I said, quieter. “Like I’m being dressed in safety nets and rules and security detail because no one trusts me to exist outside of my own fucking trauma.”
Mia blinked, and I could see her absorbing my words. Her fingers twitched like she wanted to reach for me, but she didn’t.
“I know you’re scared,” I whispered, softer now. “I know you’re all scared of what happens if I’m out there by myself. But I’ve been in cages, Mia. Literal ones. And this—this is just another version of that. The food’s better. The walls are prettier. But it’s still a fucking cage.”
Brando cut in, voice sharp. “You’re not a prisoner here.”
“No,” I shot back, “but I’m not free either.”
Silence again.
It dripped down the walls like oil.
Mia finally spoke, slow and deliberate, directing her words at her husband. “Brando. She’s not a child.”
He stared at her like she’d betrayed him too.
“She’s been through hell,” he said. “I’m not going to let her walk back out there alone. She could get hurt.”
Again.He didn’t say it, but I knew that’s what he meant.
Mia stepped closer to him, hand on his arm. “You’re not letting her do anything. You’re trying to control her.”
Brando exhaled like he’d been punched.
“She’s not the girl we lost. She’s the woman who came back,” Mia says. “And if you keep treating her like she’s glass, she’s going to shatter for real.”
My throat tightened. Because I’d never felt more seen.
Brando didn’t speak right away. His eyes flicked to mine, and there was something raw there. He was terrified.
“She almost died,” he said hoarsely. “Sophia died. We can’t risk losing anyone else.”
“And you won’t be able to save her every time,” Mia said softly. “But you can trust her.”
He didn’t move. Didn’t blink.
Mia turned to me.
“Max,” she said gently. “We’ve been trying to protect you because we love you. Because watching you come back from that place… it’s the bravest thing I’ve ever seen. But you deserve to try. To live again. I just need to know—really know—that you’re doing this because you’re ready. Not because you’re trying to prove something.”
I nodded slowly. My throat was too tight to speak.
Mia stepped forward and wrapped her arms around me, tight, and I sagged into her. All my carnage, all my fire—it sank down into a soft, simmering ache.
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