Page 33 of Maxim

My mind goes back to the girl that’s chained up in my home. I fucking hate what I’ve turned into. That I’m forced to be this person. I knew this job was going to be hard, I just underestimated how difficult it would truly be.

For fuck’s sake, I choked her out in front of the kids.

Then it took her forever to wake up.

It should have only taken her minutes to come around, but it was longer. I’ll never admit how many times I checked her pulse to make sure she was still alive. Hell, I couldn’t even pull myselfout of her room after I brought her home. I couldn’t leave her. I had to make sure she was okay. For a split second, I wondered if the injuries she sustained while with her father were worse than I thought.

I had given her another hour, and if she hadn’t woken up, I was going to call Alexei and ask for a doctor. But then she sat up, and I could finally relax.

Shame washes through me. I watched her like a fucking creep while she slept. I watched her chest rise and fall over and over again. It didn’t escape my notice that for the first time she looked at peace. Like the world wasn’t out to get her.

Jesus Christ, she’s fucking with my head.

Shutting my eyes, I tip my head back and try to remind myself why I’m doing this.

For the innocent women, men, and children.

Memories of pulling people out of containers and train cars come to mind. The way they were filthy and malnourished will haunt me.

A memory of my grandmother comes forward.

Grandma is leaning over the garden, pulling some ripe tomatoes from the vine while I play with my toy car in the dirt next to her. Her skirt shifts against her calves, and something catches my attention. I can’t help but frown as I study the white crisscross marks that cover the backs of her calves.

“Grandma, where did those marks come from?” I ask, pointing to them.

Grandma’s whole body goes tense as she reaches back and covers her legs once more.

“That’s nothing for you to worry about, Maxim,” she says.

I don’t know why, but I feel as if I said something I shouldn’t have.

I look down and start rolling my car once more. “I’m sorry.”

Grandma sighs as she sits next to me. She takes my hand in hers and pats the back of it. “You have nothing to be sorry for. You asked a question that was harmless.”

I look up at her through my lashes and see that she’s staring off into space.

“When I was younger, someone gave me those scars,” she says slowly.

“Like a bad man?” I ask quietly.

Grandma nods. “He was a bad man. An evil man. There are two types of people out there, my boy, good ones and bad ones. Good people will make you feel safe and you know they will never hurt you, but the bad ones…” She sighs. “They will do everything they can to break you.”

“Did the person break you?” I ask, cutting her off.

She smiles softly as she shakes her head. “They didn’t.”

“I don’t ever want to be a bad man.”

She cups my cheek and makes me look her in the eye.

“You, my boy, won’t be a bad man.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. You’re the best part of me so there’s no way you can be bad,” she says as she tickles me, making me laugh. Once I stop laughing, she meets my eye once again. “There is one thing you need to know, though, Maxim. Just because you’ve done something bad doesn’t mean you aren’t good. As long as you never lay your hands on a woman in violence and you go out of your way to help the underdog, you’ll be fine.”

“What’s an underdog?”