The Chance to make a Change

Chapter 19: How does freedom taste like

Summary: Can you convince Albert to take off your handcuffs?
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"Al?" The loud inquisitive voice of Max had you sitting up on the bed. The shirt hitched up your legs from the movement, showing the palm prints on your thighs. Your eyes darted to the little room to your left, the place you were supposed to hide if he ever came into the room. Should you go there now?

"I'm here, Max," you heard Albert shout from a different side of the house. "What is it?"

You relaxed again, knowing Albert was home. He would not let Max step into his room while he was around.

You heard Max mumble something inaudible, then clear his throat. "Why do you have a girl's scout uniform lying around?"

You froze. Did Max just find your clothes? You had imagined Albert to have burnt them already. Or perhaps for him to have buried them with the boys. He had ample time to do so. Had Albert kept them? That seemed like a reckless thing to do if he didn't want to be found out.

Albert snorted. The sound was audible even in the bedroom several doors away.

Then Max mumbled something again. You could hear him come closer to the bedroom for the mumbling became more audible. "I see... Into a little role play then? You dirty old goose."

Whatever Albert replied, you could not distinguish. It erupted loud laughter from Max, who by the sound of it, was standing in the hallway, somewhere in front of Albert's bedroom door. Your fingers twitched. Should you go and hide? What if he came in regardless of Albert being around?

But then you heard the sound of something being picked up, a slide and a rustle. Footsteps indicated that Max was walking further away again.

"Hey, I am not judging you, all right?" You heard Max say, and you suppressed the urge to roll your eyes. Yeah. Right. There was a lecherous tone to his voice, as if he fancied the idea of a little roleplay himself. "I'm just happy you got her over for the weekend. I was scared you were going to be weeding the garden all day, bruising those old bones of you. This was much better, right?'

Another distant sound of Albert as he replied. You wondered what he was doing.

Then you heard the front door. You assumed it was Max who opened it, for his voice came from the right direction. "Anyhow, I've got to dash. Shall I bring some more beer later?"

Now Albert's reply was much more audible, as if he had come closer to say his brother goodbye. "Yeah, do that, Max. But don't bring in any more heroin, okay? We're lucky the cops didn't ransack the place yesterday."

Your memories were drawn back to yesterday evening, when Albert had been on the job. Not his regular one, you knew, but his magician's performance. And yes, you'd been afraid he would return with yet another boy.

Max had been at home and you had been as quiet as a mouse, hiding in Albert's chamber, when the doorbell rang and cops arrived to do some neighborhood investigation.

Max came from Durango. He was in between jobs. You wondered if he was a detective or something, that he seemed so eager to prove himself to the police.

If only he knew the truth. Then again, knowing it would be dangerous, it would cost him his life.

He may never find out, you thought.

And as you already knew what would happen, the police officers left without setting a foot inside of the house. If they had, it would have been easy to find you. Samson had been barking at your door all afternoon, ever since Max had returned home, a clear indication that something was kept in there that he wanted Max to investigate. Or rather someone.