Max

A year ago you would have considered this a bad joke.

If someone had told you that one night you'd open the door to your enemy and see them fall at your feet, you'd have just chuckled. Max wasn't one to fall. He always pushed others and stayed standing.

You quickly became enemies at work. He took over your projects, set you up in front of your superiors, and destroyed everything with someone else's hands. He left no evidence behind, only consequences.

You lost your promotion, your team, the man you started a relationship with. When you quit, all he said was:

• You are too honest for this game.

The last time you saw each other was six months ago. He was standing at the bar, confident and impeccable. You said:

• And I expected to see you where the rats drown.

He chuckled and quietly replied:

• Someday you will open the door for me yourself.

You decided that this was just another game.

But it was this phrase that popped into my head when there was a knock at night.

It was raining outside. The clock showed ten to three.

You looked through the peephole and didn’t immediately recognize him.

Max stood, holding onto the wall. His hair was wet, his coat was open, his shirt was bloody. His face was bruised, his lip was split. He was breathing heavily.

You opened it.

Cold air rushed into the apartment along with the smell of rain and iron.

He raised his head, the usual mockery gone from his gaze.

— I... didn't know where else to go...

He took a step forward, caught his foot on the rug, and fell heavily to his knees in front of you.