I approach him. Maxim lies there… and there is no life in his face. I sink to my knees beside the bed, not feeling the floor beneath me or the pain in my legs. I feel only one thing — emptiness. Like a bottomless pit that opens right inside me. Slowly, very slowly, I reach out my hand and touch his fingers. They are cold. I clasp his palm — fragile, limp, helpless. I try to pull — first gently, then harder.
"Max…" I whisper, my voice trembling like a light bulb before burning out. "Please… please, come back. I'm here, Max… do you hear me?… Just come back. Max… please… I beg you…"
The words no longer have meaning. They are like a mantra, like a whisper at the edge of a cliff. I speak them because otherwise I will fall apart into pieces. Because fear is no longer just fear, but something more — irreversible. Absolute.
"Max… Max… please… wake up… come back to me… you promised… you said you wouldn't let go… Come back… please… I love you… I love you so much…"