The crisp mountain air chilled him to the bone, made his hands ache something fierce but that was the very least of his problems at the moment. He thought about the last couple hours of his day, the way the anger surged in him, made him miscalculate his steps, his plan going into motion before he could even register he was moving forward. Never one for violence, Max always vowed to find a better way so that way his baby girls would have a father to be proud of, because how many use their fists as conversation, instigate fights for no damn reason. He promised he’d never be like that, he’d never see the light in their eyes fade away when they saw him, be disappointed in his life choices. That was then, before the damn reaping, before the goddamn cultists decided to make Hope County their playground.
Rolling his shoulders, fingers pressed into skin, a soft groan leaving his lips as he squinted up at the view before him, his mouth a thin line of discontent. How he ever let that fuckin’ Seed get the better of him was beyond him, all he knew though was that his head swam, as if he plucked the stars from the sky and placed them in his vision, or stole the songs from the angels, the tune playing a calming melody in the back of his head. He almost hummed it to himself, allow himself to get lost, only for a moment to distract himself from the reality of the situation. Except a face he had seen many times before came into a view, a man with haunted eyes, like he had seen far too much.
He massaged at his hands, thumb moving against palms, the rest against the back and the roughness of his skin brought him to the present. For a few beats he watched Staci, the frown ever present on his visage, eyes dark with a rage he never thought he’d ever feel, “Deputy.” Max cleared his throat, tries to swallow then sighed. Movement jerky and awkward, Staci moved as if he was waiting for harsh words or perhaps worse. Slowly, Max reached out to connect them together, skin on skin, a comforting gesture to soothe the storm brewing inside the young man, “Keep it for yourself. Not gonna let you get in trouble for me, ya hear?” He murmured, gaze on his, head shaking to show he wasn’t going to allow him to feed him. “I’ll be fine. He can’t hurt me in here, not really. But he can hurt you and I won’t have that.”
Maybe eventually whatever they did here would get him, perhaps soon it would be his turn but he would bide his time and make his move when the time was right. Maybe if he was lucky enough, if he get Staci out with him, take him somewhere safe and make sure his mama got to see her son again. He vowed to himself that he wouldn’t anything bad happen, that if Staci ever needed someone then he could always come to him but look at where they were. “I’m sorry, Stace. That I couldn’t stop them from takin’ you and doin’ what they did to ya.” Dropping his hands to push into his lap, Max shook his head, another sigh leaving his lips before scooting back into the corner to wipe his middle and ring finger against his nose in an attempt to get any dry blood. “No point in me takin’ it, I’m stuck in a cage. You eat, I’ll be fine. I’ll even keep watch over you.”
The touch brought the first bit of comfort that Staci had felt in months. He closed his eyes as he let out his breath, letting himself imagine for a moment that they weren’t here. That they were back at Max’s house during the earlier summer months, chilling in the hammock Staci had brought over or watching the stars at night. How ridiculously far away that felt. Yet he could pretend for a short moment, letting his grip hold onto Max with a desperation.
Eyes flashed back open at the rangers refusal to eat and that stress reappeared on his features. “N-No please I-” but he stopped, letting Max finish talking. The words felt nice to hear but Staci felt hollow about it. They brought no further comfort. Max could do nothing about what had happened and Staci was painfully aware of the fact that nothing in the world could give him back who he was. After everything that had happened to him -- Pratt wasn’t the same young man anymore. He wasn’t sure if he ever would be again. He wasn’t even sure who he was some nights.
“Please eat it, Max,” he begged. Behind him, in another cage, another man spoke up in whispers. “Hey! Hey listen if he won’t eat it, I will. I--”
Pratt straightened up and turned in the same movement. “No. It’s not meant for you,” he growled, sudden change in his demeanor before he cracked a very strained smile. “Now be quiet before I give you something to be loud about,” he added before returning down to Max, looking stressed, fingers carding through messy hair.
Soft laughter slipped from Staci’s lips a moment and he rubbed at his face to try to calm down. “Eat Max. You’re going to need it.”
