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It hurt like hell, but I couldn’t show the pain. I sucked in a sharp breath and spun on my heel.
“Hey,” I shouted with animosity.
Amada kept on walking. She didn’t even toss a glance at me over her shoulder. Now that she had successfully hurtmyshoulder — yes, it felt like it was jammed now and I rubbed the tender area while her back was turned, she pretended not to hear me.
She ignored me altogether as if I didn’t even exist and wasn’t adamantly trying to get her attention.
“Amada, stop,” I said assertively, but the woman kept on strutting along with a new zing in her step as if she’d won this subtle, non-verbal battle.
That was the way Amada was. She would sting you like a wasp when she had the opportunity, but she would do it in more of an indirect way, thecowardlyway if you askedme.For someone who didn’t seem to be keen on confrontation, she sure tried her best to stir up a lot of trouble.
She was always leaving a trail of stress and tension in her wake, something that I knew was deliberate. Amada wouldn’t be happy unless all those around her were as miserable as her.
“I’m talking to you.” I raised my voice a forceful notch.
Amada continued to ignore me.
I couldn’t explain what caused me to do what I did next. Call it a rush of angry adrenaline. Call it the boiling pot spilling over.
Whatever it was, I’d had enough, and I wasn’t going to stand for her bullying any longer. Something snapped in me, and I was going to push Amada over the edge like I was. I was determined to get her to talk to me and tell me why she hated me so much.
I reached out and cupped my hand over her shoulder to make her stop walking. It worked. She halted in her tracks and slowly turned around. Her face was furiously twisted. My heart pounded so violently that I got an extreme headrush, but I held my ground.
Her eyes landed on my hand that was still cupped over her shoulder. She shrugged it off as if my touch seared her skin. “Get your hands off me,” she snarled through clenched teeth, looking like a threatened animal.
“I need to talk to you,” I said as rationally as I could.
Amada eyed me up and down, sizing me up. “I havenothingto say to the gutter trash who works in the maintenance room on the misfit robot parts,” she said with a condescending smirk. She was trying to use an assault of verbal insults to bash my confidence. It wasn’t going to work this time.
“You can’t talk to me that way,” I protested, feeling my upper lip twitching in anger.
I glared right back at her. Two could play this contemptuous game. “If you didn’t want me to confront you, then you shouldn’t have touchedmeback there.”
“You shouldn’t have been in myway,” Amada sneered.
“It’s a perfectly roomy corridor,” I argued. “Youintentionallycame over tomyside of it.”
“You don’townthe corridors,” Amada said with a catty bat of her eyes that made my blood boil.
Amada took a slow step forward. I knew she was trying to intimidate me. She hovered directly in my face. Our noses were only an inch apart. She glared into my eyes as if she were trying to suck my very soul from my body.
“Let me tell you something you frizzy hairedharlot. You need to mind your own business and learn when to keep your mouth shut. Watch who you are talking to. You are playing with forces beyond your understanding. If you keep trying to meddle in things you have no business interfering with, you are going to find yourself in aworldof pain. You need to learn some respect. I’d be happy to teach you a lesson in that department—”
“Oh, shutup,” I interrupted in a loud, snappy tone, indifferent to the fact that she was trying to keep her voice down on purpose.
Amada’s mouth opened in shock. She took a step back. She stared at me, clearly stunned that I would even have thenerveto interrupt her, much less speak to her in such a callous tone.
“Excuse me?” she hissed in a low growl.
“I am getting reallysickand tired of your empty threats,” I told her.
Amada’s glower was glacial. Her jaw tightened and she regained some of her stamina as she stepped toward me again.
“Watch my personal space if you don’t want to get hurt,” I warned. I wasn’t above getting physical with her if she tried to lay a hand on me.
“I should say the same thing toyou,” Amada said, her tone dripping with ice.
“You’re so jealous it’s comical,” I taunted. “Cyburn is not yours anymore. You guys broke up over ayearago. It’s sad, really, pathetic. Get over it. Move on. You need to put the past behind you. Pick yourself up. If you are so strong and independent and want to be feared by everyone, you certainly aren’t putting on a good show if you’re dwelling on an ex-boyfriend who doesn’t even want to give you the time ofday—”
