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“I'm here,” I sigh and step out of my hiding spot.
“Finally. I don't want to be late for the first period,” he grumbles irritably, his patience wearing thin.
“It's you?” I raise my phone, and he smirks.
“I sent you the message, yeah,” he says, far too casually.
Fear courses through my veins. Manasseh wouldn't hesitate to embarrass me, enjoying every second of it with his friends, just like he used to do when we played together.
“So, you hacked my account?!”
“What are you talking about? I didn't hack your account. Yesterday, when you left the computer lab, you forgot to log out of your computer. When I went to use it, your Cloud account was still open. It was... unsettling to see what was in there.”
Stupid!
I smack my forehead twice, feeling so stupid.
“Where are they? Where did my photos go?” I start freaking out and getting all worked up like a spinning top.
“You mean the bunch of pictures of my brother? They're safe, don't worry,” he twirls a USB stick on his finger, licking his lips. “For now...”
“I'm begging you, Masse. Give them back to me,” I reach out with a pleading hand, but he looks at me like I just asked for the kimono he almost kicked out the window some time ago, when I wore it without asking.
“But first, I want to know the truth,” he cracks his neck loudly.
“The truth?” I squint my eyes and bite my lip, almost shaking.
“Why do you have so many pics of Samael in your Cloud?”
What can I say to him?
That I've always had a secret admiration for his brother, watching him from the shadows, finding everything he does captivating? He would mock me for sure because that's just Manasseh's way. He would take pleasure in making fun of me.
“I can't tell you why.”
“You can't?”
“You wouldn’t understand…”
“I’m sure I could understand better than anyone,” his piercing eyes softening, and his smile almost melting me.
“You? Understand me? Please, we're so different.”
“Are we really?” he says coolly, a calmness on his face that sends chills down my spine.
“It's none of your business! Just give them back to me now!” I reach out to snatch the USB stick, but Manasseh dodges my attempt.
“What do you mean? He's my brother, so it is my business.”
I give up on forcefully taking the stick from him since his height makes it impossible, and I feel desperation flooding through me as blood rushes to my head.
“I enjoy taking his pictures. I mean... I enjoy photography in general. I needed a subject, and I thought it wouldn't bother him if I took a few shots. I wanted to delete them,” I rush to apologize, but everything I do feels like accusing myself even more. “But I couldn't bring myself to delete some memories.”
“Some? You have hundreds of pictures, maybe even tens of thousands, organized in folders with dates and times, the whole shebang. It's insane! It sounds like an obsession to me. Are you some kind of stalker or something?” His eyes widen with curiosity.
“Nooo! I really wanted to delete them,” I shamelessly lie, but Manasseh doesn't even consider believing me, judging by his expression.
“You're funny, Becca,” he laughs quietly, twirling the stick on his index finger. “You know obsessions are messed up, right? I'm telling you this for your own good.”
