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“You think I don't know?” he sighs and gazes out at the sea, seemingly struggling to shake off the effects of his intoxication.
“You saw me burning up and assumed we were the same, but that's not love. You don't love me, Manasseh. You only love the sensation of having me. That's it.”
“It's more than that, Becca. You're just too blind to see.”
“Yes, an obsession,” I sigh, turning my gaze to the sea.
“It's beyond your comprehension, perhaps even beyond mine,” he shakes his head, refusing to accept defeat. “I just hope it won't be too late for you to see the truth beneath the surface. For now, you prefer to feed on the theories and illusions you've held about me since childhood, because you're afraid to look beyond them.”
“You can't convince me otherwise. You know what? Let it go! What time is it?” I ask, ready to retreat into sleep.
I deny everything, unwilling to accept that I saved his skin for a reason other than revenge.
“It's almost 3 o'clock...” he glances at his wristwatch, then suddenly kneels before the lounge chair where I'm seated, gipping my ankle.
“W-what are you d-doing?” I stammer, feeling a mix of embarrassment and awkwardness. Yet, I can't help but watch as he holds the sole of my foot with one hand, his other hand steadying my calf.
“Thanks,” he leans in, his lips barely brushing above my shin, planting soft kisses there. “You, out of everyone, saved my life. You, who wants me dead, ended up giving me life”, he looks at my foot, his gaze traveling up to my knee, further up to the thigh revealed through the blood-stained slit in my dress.
Manasseh is kneeled before me, now kissing my legs in a humbling gesture, leaving me stunned and unsure how to react.
What's going on with him? Is he still drunk?
“Don't get carried away. I didn't do it for you; I did it for myself. Who else would cover my mother's bills with you dead?”
“That's not why you did it, Becca, and we both know it. You care about me. You care more than you're willing to admit. You were ready to tear into that woman's jugular, then turn to those two jerks at the table, and rip them apart. All of this before needing that morbid garrote you were talking about, his fingers caressing my leg, and I see him kneeling before me, even admiring me in my most miserable state.”
My curls are muddied with my own blood, the dress stained and disheveled. My hand is wrapped in a bandage, and my eyes are swollen and red. Strangely calm for someone who had been brandishing a knife just an hour ago, I stay still and allow him to approach once again.
“You don't actually want me. You're just afraid of being alone,” I sigh, sensing a weakness that extends beyond the physical.
“I want all of you,” he lifts his gaze from my legs, sincerity clear in his eyes.
“All you want is to get between my legs,” I continue to deny, or maybe to beg for a bit of emotion, even though I'm aware that Manasseh can't provide that kind of emotion.
Manasseh doesn’t have emotions.
“And later, deep within your soul,” Manasseh reminds me of his earlier words, sending a shiver down my spine. When I asked you to be part of my life, I never fathomed you'd become a target for those who hate me. You've become my weakness.”
“So, am I your weakness also here?” I narrow my eyes, pushing the tip of my foot against his hard chest.
I notice him flinch, a flush creeping up his cheeks.
“You're necessary to me,” his fingers curl around my ankle.
Manasseh has always been aware of my dark side and embraced it, cradling it from my childhood days when I was a frail kid. He pushed me to push my limits, to evolve as a person, to rid myself of weaknesses. He admired me and showed affection in all forms, even the less favorable ones, even when I lost touch with who I was. When I'd lose control, he was there to tell me that making mistakes was natural at times.
I never turned my gaze his way. Every time, I was too busy looking at his brother. Never, until now... when I finally see him. I've never been afraid to be myself around him, the vicious and less holy version of me that others see, because Manasseh has only known my flaws, and it frightens me that he managed to fall for them, even when he hasn't even known my good side.
What can you think of someone who knows your faults all too well, but likes you anyways?
At first, I thought he was crazy, and that he makes me act weird, but tonight, on the stone pier, I realized that Manasseh was merely toughening me up for the worst. His methods may not have been conventional, but they worked. Moments when I showed kindness were rare, but each time I did, I felt him weakening his defenses, as if that insufferable attitude was revealing a side of him that was terrified of rejection.
“Then why was I about to die because of you?” Again, I ask, feeling his fingers gently palpating my sore ankle.
“I don't know what got into me. Ever since match night, when we were together, I couldn't focus on
anything except the image of you bent over while I was fucking you in front of the mirror. I think I lost control and just went with the flow. I drank more than I could handle, and right now, my head feels like it's going to split, and I know I'll regret every word I've said when morning comes, so please, let it be. Have some mercy! “
