The Covert Identity

"You should have some more... Dad" Maxwell said to his father who laid helplessly on the old foamless couch. 

"Max.. I am tired.. I can't eat anymore" Justine said to his son looking very weak. 

"But you've barely eaten anything since last night... You need to eat this so that you can have some drugs" Maxwell replied. He could see the visible pains in his father's eyes as he forced the small bite of potato down his throat. 

"Yeah dad... Have some more..." Maxwell cheered putting another portion of the meal into his father's mouth. 

His dad had been diagnosed of kidney failure some years ago but recently the illness took a worse turn and his family moved from being poor to wretched. 

They could not take him to the hospital for proper medication because the bills were too expensive for them.

His mother took a cleaning job while he was given the full time job of watching over his sick father. 

Maxwell had lived almost all his life hoping for better days to come but each day seemed to close into a more worse and terrible dawn. 

His parents were aging fast and often times, he'd resented himself for not coming to them at their early age. 

Sometimes, he wished he could switch places with his dad and ease him of the pains be felt but all of it remained what they were... thoughts and wishes. 

He had just help his father lay on his back to the couch after feeding him with the last meal available in the house. 

He sat down on the sofa arm and fixed his gaze on a rough page of the magazine, reading the same article for the umpteenth time. 

He heard a loud sound like that of a reckless driver trying to pull the break on a car, he stood up and walked towards the window to have a view of what it was. 

"What is that sound?" His father asked in a very weak tone "I don't know dad... It seems like we have visitors" He replied closing the window cutton and heading to the door. 

There was a heavy bang on the door as he approached and he hesitated to open it in fear of who it could be. 

"Who is there?" he asked in a very sharp and clear tone but to his surprised there was another heavy kick on the door and the knob pulled out immediately making the old wooden door break open. 

Over five men walked into the house wearing black suits. The guy who lead them in had a short gun on his right hand and his look was very scary. 

Maxwell stood at the same spot behind the broken door in shock and fright but they seemed not to have seen him. 

The men all walked towards his sick father and one of them drew the wooden table that was at the edge of the couch closer to where his father laid and sat directly opposite to his father . 

"It's been a while, Justine" He said scanning him from his head to his toe. 

"Who are you?" Justine asked almost like a whisper. 

"I'm not here to make introductions, Justine... Wilson sent me and you know what that means" he said in a very authoritative manner hitting his fingers lightly on the wooden table. 

The expression he had while speaking to Justine sent shivers down Maxwell's vein.