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“I've had enough, Masse. What do you want from me?”
“You know, Becca... I've always admired your loyalty,” he raises his gaze from the glowing laptop screen, locking his intrigued, icy blue eyes with mine.
Hints of golden reflections dance within them.
“What are you talking about?”
“I'm talking about how you never flinched in the face of my chaos, even when you witnessed it firsthand. Remember... Robby, fifth grade? I was consumed by rage when he put you in the hospital, and I lost control for a moment. You know exactly what I'm capable of when I lose control. I know you saw it all, yet you didn’t tell anyone. You stood by my side, Becca.”
“It wasn't my business .”
“Really?” Masse rises from his desk and circles around it. “It was about you, and instead of telling the teacher or your parents, you chose to keep the secret for me. You stood by my side, but in return, you started distancing yourself more and more. I genuinely frightened you that day, but not enough to push me away completely. It gives me hope,” he sighs, studying me from head to toe. “You've been loyal to me, and I want to know if that loyalty stems from your own choice or if you're simply afraid.”
“I'm not afraid of you!” I hold my ground, though my fingers clench into tight fists, causing a dull ache.
“Really?” Masse approaches, his curiosity piqued.
“Absolutely!” I refuse to back down, maintaining unwavering eye contact.
“Then why did you take four steps back since we stood face-to-face?” His imposing figure obscures the glow of the laptop, and I feel cornered by his shadow, as if it could swallow me whole.
He leans in slowly, waiting for my response. I realize that my calves are pressed against the edge of Manasseh's bed, and if he leans in any further, I'm about to fall onto his firm mattress.
The truth lies somewhere in between. His enigmatic and intricate personality draws me in, perhaps because rumors have circulated about him being the sinister mastermind of the Crasnics of Matlock. Little is known about them, but enough to make everyone steer clear. The high school kids label them as a cult, while the town's elderly women call them Satanists. All that is certain is that if you are marked by the Crasnics, no prayer can shield you from their fury.
Masse has always carried a shadow within him, but now it's more than that, and he embraces it with a devilish smile. This stranger I see when I gaze into his eyes both captivates and unnerves me as if his dual nature can emerge during the darkest of moments.
But does it truly frighten me enough to keep my distance?
No.
Perhaps there is some truth to the whispers, that he has made a pact with the Evil one.
“Because you're too close,” I finally confess, hypnotized by his piercing gaze.
He bursts into a soft chuckle, running his fingers through his hair, lost in his own thoughts, likely thinking about the same thing.
“I'm not trying to scare you, but I appreciate that you're not attempting to run away. Do you enjoy this side of me? Do you feel safe with me?” he says, and I can sense his breath, tinged with the scent of toothpaste.
On the contrary, I feel that you are the biggest danger, but you can’t know that. I don't want you to know that you intimidate me.
“Y-yes,” I stammer, bringing my hand to my neck, squeezing gently in a desperate attempt to reassure myself.
Manasseh laughs and shakes his head.
“I want you to trust me. I’ll keep my word, you know?”
Shit! He knows I'm lying, but he keeps playing this game he started long before I realized. He sensed my tension, was aware of his effect on me, and surely noticed that his presence doesn't leave me indifferent. I can't fool him, but somehow, he willingly falls for it. That's how he always is, acting hurt just to strike when you least expect it.
“Then why did you send that picture during the break? Samael almost saw it.”
“You enjoy saying his name so much,” he grabs my chin with two fingers and brings his face closer to mine. “It almost makes me jealous when it leaves your lips,” his thumb presses against my lower lip, and my heart races wildly.
I feel the wetness of his saliva on the tip of his finger, and I quickly grab his wrist before he can make any further move.
“That's what this is about? You're jealous of your brother?” I don't take my eyes off him, and I feel him flinch as he pulls his hand back.
“Rubbish! It's because I felt pretty offended when I discovered that you had cropped me out of all the pictures. Really, Becca? Am I not as photogenic as my dear brother?”
