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“The steps are rotten. You'll fall!”
“I hope I fall onto that USB stick if I do,” I manage to almost peel off my hoodie, but I feel Masse's hand clasping my wrist.
I writhe and nearly lose my balance, but when his hand tightens around me, my heart softens, and I breathe a relieved sigh. The other hand clings to the rough branches of the climbing ivy, covered in dust and dried leaves.
The coolness outside flutters my skirt, and I swear, if I had a third hand, I would have held onto its hem.
“Don't be crazy, Becca! Turn back!” he tightens his grip even more.
“Never!” I wriggle, and in an instant, I hear the wood beneath my feet creaking. I don't even have time to blink before I feel myself descending through the damp, prickly thicket, and just before I slip away, I see a pile of dry leaves breaking off from the withered ivy, falling like a shower of dust.
I open my eyes and look up. My face is dampened by the cool droplets, and I feel the moist earth sticking to my clothes. The roots softened my fall, along with the layer of dry leaves from the garden. The half-split piece of wood wavers threateningly, and I flinch as it detaches and falls straight towards my face, but something covers my head, shielding me from the impact at the last moment.
“If I had known that secret would drive you away from me, I would have preferred you to expose me, Becca.”
“Masse?” I whisper as I catch his scent, and I hear a muffled groan.
“Aghhh, you are utterly insane.” he wheezes.
A hand gropes around my ribs, and I break free from his embrace.
“What are you doing, you pervert?”
“You have something that belongs to me.” I see the USB stick in his hand and curse under my breath. “Fuck, I think I've injured my right hand.” I see him squirming, and I lean over to grab the stick from his seemingly functional hand, seizing the opportunity.
“Give it to me!” I straddle him and wrestle him to the ground, struggling to pry open his fist with both hands.
“You're ruthless,” he gasps, fighting to keep his fist closed. "Taking advantage of an injured man!"
“I don't care!” I shout sharply, almost dislocating one of his fingers.
But beneath me lies a formidable opponent, someone who has been practicing martial arts since elementary school.
I had learned that move from him, the one that now left him completely immobilized, despite my skirt riding up almost to my hips, and feeling his bony pelvis rubbing against my intimate area in the heat of our struggle.
I didn't care. I wanted the USB stick.
“What the fuck are you doing here?!” Samael shows from around the corner of the house, glaring at us.
My breath catches. I lift my gaze, my face burning with shame as I realize how it looks. If I were Samael, I would also misinterpret this.
“Bro... I think I just dislocated my shoulder,” Manasseh looks at his brother, far too cheerful for someone who just dislocated their shoulder.
“And what the hell is so funny?” Samael's hands disappeared into the pockets of his hoodie.
“Nothing is funny,” my frustration mingling with embarrassment as I struck Masse's tightly clenched fist.
I give up on grabbing the stick and rise to my feet, brushing off my clothes.
“Who's the pervert now, huh?” Masse laughs, holding his injured shoulder.
“Shut up, Masse! I'm going home,” I say, removing leaves from my hair and making my way towards the back gate.
It's over for me.
CHAPTER 8
Present
