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“Will you hurt me?” I ask with a choked voice.
Manasseh bursts into a dry, inflectionless fit of laughter, then grabs his shirt with two fingers and pulls it further from his skin, trying to cool down, as if my question amused him so much that he needs a breath.
“Hard enough for you to feel pain” he approaches me so closely that I can no longer ignore his dominating presence in the room, and over me. “Just enough for you to endure it,” he touches my shoulder with the back of his index finger. “You can endure it, can't you, little piggy?” he seems absorbed by the almost nonexistent contact between my skin and his index finger, which is now traveling along my collarbone, moving towards my throat.
“I can,” I follow his gaze and swallow the knot in my throat caused by his low voice tone, feeling inexplicable sensations growing within me.
“Of course, you can... you'll do it for your mommy, not for daddy. He disappointed you a long time ago, and I'm curious whether it was then that he chose to serve the Lord instead of the family he shattered, keeping you under his thumb your whole life, then leaving you like a bad dog, or was it before you, when he served at the church during the day, and at night, you'd find him buried deep between the legs of some cheap whore?”
“Stop!” I cover my ears, stifling a pained whimper.
“You have every right to hate him, Becca,” Manasseh's hand inches closer to me, gently caressing the top of my head. “He never truly loved you. While you were painting him beside Saint Peter, believing him to be so virtuous and worthy, he couldn't even confront his own demons, let alone control yours.”
“I'm not listening to you!” I press harder on my ears and squeeze my eyelids almost painfully.
“He didn't genuinely love you either. Always consumed by the need to control you, he consistently set boundaries that you're still afraid to breach. Tsss!” - he hisses, his voice a disapproving whisper – “even if he didn't succeed in fully taming you, he did his best to shape you. Look at yourself, confined by limits that only exist here,” his hand grazes my temple, “restrictions he forced upon you, which you can't leave behind even though you're no longer living under the same roof.
“I can't hear you!” I exclaim, fear coursing through me, feeling myself sinking into my own insecurities.
“You never wanted to listen to me, and look where that got us” Manasseh's voice roars with anger, as if he's frustrated that I'm not embracing his version of the truth.
At this moment, I'm lost. I can't discern if he's truly the person who has always been by my side, attempting to open my eyes, striving to make me stronger, prepared for the moment of truth, or if he was the serpent that poisoned my soul and mind, and with his venom-laden words, I fell from paradise into hell.
“It's your fault! I reproach him with all my heart, trying to shake off the heavy feeling that crushes my chest, denying my own rebellious phase as though it had vanished from memory once denied.
“Let's start from the beginning, through elimination. Was it my fault you wanted to join the Crasnics? Nuh-uh! I don't think so,” Manasseh waves a finger in the air, dissatisfied.
“You excluded me! We've always been together in everything, and suddenly, I became a stranger to you all,” I stammer, speaking nonsense.
I had firmly and clearly stated, whenever things weren't going in a favorable direction, that girls and boys shouldn't hang out together, but those were just my father's words. I always wanted to be with them, to be one of them.
“Don't tell me that was the main reason, you innocent little pansy, because you don't even believe your words. Was it my fault you went so low just so You-Know-Who would look your way? Again, I don’t think so. Your obsession with him contributed to your downfall. It was your own decisions, thinking they would bring him into your nice white panties and you'd live happily ever after, but they only led you to the peak of your life, because you were a fool to think that the bastard cared even a little about you,” he shouts, and I see him unleash at the mere reminder of the past.
“It was real,” I whisper and recall the few moments spent with Samael.
“In your head,” Manasseh grits his teeth and lets out a loud sigh. “You're so naive, it makes me sick. After all, what could come out of a depraved priest and a stripper?”
“Stop talking about my family!” I raise a hand, but Manasseh grabs my wrist before I can even move.
“Not today, little piggy! Today, you're going to listen to me, like the good girl you are. Got it?”
“No!” I retort and throw it at his face, trying to escape, but we struggle, and the weakness in my body resurfaces.
“Oh yes, you will. Don't pretend anymore, you fake saint! You're just like your father, depraved.”
“That's not true! What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Mhmmm,” he disappointingly shakes his head, and he seizes my other wrist, making sure I’m still, but I wriggle free and take two steps backward, colliding with the granite bathtub. Its coldness triggers memories of the club night, like a fucking déjà vu looming if this conversation doesn't halt.
“What do you want?” I glimpse the empty tub behind me, then at him.
“I want you to be honest with me. Dishonesty is what I hate most in this world. I want you to stop lying to me! Admit you hate everyone, that you’ve been full of it for faar to long, and it affected your very DNA, no matter how hard you deny it.”
“I've changed, but who doesn't change? What do you know?” I furrow my brows and feel that it doesn't make sense to have this conversation with him.
“I know. I've been there. I hate everyone too. I hate you the most, Becca. I hate you with all my heart.”
“What fucking heart?” I grit my teeth as the granite's chill pierces through my skin.
