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“I’ll figure out a way.” I shake the laptop in the air. “I wonder what skeletons I’ll find here.”
She purses her lips. “Why do you want to know about me?”
“Because I’m not a big fan of liars. Besides, you know so much about me from all that googling, it’s only fair that I’m in the know, too.”
She stares at my hand for a second and I can tell the exact moment she decides to have one last-ditch attempt.
But even as she jumps, she doesn’t manage to reach half the distance.
“Nice try.” I smirk.
She glares, but it’s only a fraction of a second before she breaks eye contact. I noticed that she doesn’t do that a lot, looking into other people’s or my eyes, as if she’s escaping something by avoiding them.
Crouching down, she grabs her glasses that I threw away earlier and puts them on, using them as some sort of armor, a weapon against the world.
Or maybe just against me.
“I have a condition.”
“A condition? What makes you think you’re in a position to have those? I have your laptop, remember?”
“I won’t tell you anything unless you agree to my condition.”
“And what is that?”
She inhales a deep breath, places her hand on her chest, then says, “Can’t you accept that woman’s case?”
I narrow my eyes. “Were you spying on me?”
“I just…happened to be passing by.”
“For such an excellent liar, you’re doing a rubbish job with your speech pattern right now. But it doesn’t matter, because the answer is no.”
A frown appears between her delicate brows and she drops her hand from her chest. “Why not? She was obviously abused.”
“How do you know that?”
“She had purple marks on her wrist that she was hiding with makeup. It’s typical behavior shown by abused women.”
“And you’re an expert because…”
“Mom was in an abusive relationship and I witnessed it all. From the beatings to the lying to the flinching.Allof it. I was there when she used foundation to hide the bruises but I wasn’t there when she sent me to the neighbor in order to protect me. It takes a lot of courage to go against one’s abuser. I know, because Mom couldn’t, and when she did, it was already too late. So please, help that woman if you can.”
I pause, lowering my hand with the laptop to my side. The emotions in her voice are so raw and real. More real than anything I’ve heard from her before. I always suspected that she was hiding something, that she was cunning and conniving for a reason, but I never thought it would be this.
She’s not even focused on her laptop anymore, only me. There’s desperation in her stiff posture, in the way she continuously adjusts her glasses and touches her chest as if that keeps her rooted in the moment.
I flex my fingers on the laptop. “Why was it too late?”
“What?”
“You said your mum couldn’t ask for help and when she did, it was too late. Why?”
“Because…” She strokes the edge of her glasses, clutches her shirt in her fist, then swallows thickly. “Because…the person she asked for help wasn’t exactly a knight in shining armor.”
“And you think I am?”
“You’re a lawyer.”
