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To: Piggy
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Summer or winter?
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- received at 7:33
A vein throbs in my temple as I see the ridiculous names he assigned to our numbers in his contacts.
I don't bother asking him why he's interested in my seasonal preference and randomly select “summer.”
No reply comes, and throughout the day, I find myself staring at my father's car, motionless in front of the house since yesterday. Worrisome thoughts flood my mind, filling me with a gnawing anxiety.
What if something happened to him too?
I don't know if my heart can handle another blow.
Throughout the day, I make countless attempts to go home, but I never make it past the front door. The unsettling idea that Manasseh might harm my mother if I defy him instantly halts my steps. No matter how many possible solutions I brainstorm, they all lead to the same outcome. I would only make Manasseh mad, and I'm not sure I want that. I still don't know what he's capable of, and honestly, I'm starting to fear what he might show me because I know how crazy he can be.
When Manasseh is challenged, he doesn't care about anyone or anything. He becomes wild, driven to prove his power. And let's not forget that I also discovered the identity of the little Crasnic who claimed Samael's bed. Manasseh has a black cat with piercing blue eyes, embodying the same arrogance and indifference. Calling it a mere feline would be an understatement, for its balls are gigantic, a peculiar similarity they share.
The fact that he’s a cat person says volumes about Manasseh.
The cat's name? Marlboro.
I can't help but burst into laughter when Rose informed me of this peculiar choice. Who in their right mind names their pet after a pack of cigarettes?
As the afternoon slips away, I stretch out in the filled bathtub and gaze into the other end.
What's going on with dad?
How is mom coping?
What am I even doing here?
What am I doing in this house, under the same roof as one of the people who tried to ruin my life in the past, and the problem is, he's just as persistent in the present. It's like he won't rest until he sees me broken beyond repair. He said those words himself, and before I could even process it, fear began to take hold of me from the very first day he reappeared in my life. Manasseh knows how to manipulate me, using emotional blackmail to force me into doing whatever he wants, no matter the cost. For the second time, history is repeating itself, but this time the stakes are even higher. It's not about some silly pictures that once mattered the most; now it's the life of the person I care about the most that's hanging in the balance.
But this can't be the end.
I refuse to believe that there's no way out. I've always been the master of creating scenarios in my mind, and I still hold the power to prove him wrong. I won't let him crush me.
“Hey, Becca,” I hear laughter coming from the other side of the bathtub.
“What do you want?” I look at the blonde girl, with her pale skin and that foolish smile they killed a long time ago.
“You called for me, remember?” she hugs her knees to her chest, a vulnerable figure.
“No,” I choke back the words, struggling to recognize the person I once was in her wide dilated pupils.
It’s me from the past. So unmistakable that it's hard for me to accept who I once was.
“Of course. You probably don't even remember everything you did in the past... with them,” the silhouette rises confidently. “One by one... It's no wonder Manasseh is still boiling with desire for you even now. Deep down, you knew from the start that he's like a contagious disease, one you can't shake off once you give him attention, and his brother is like a sharp pain that strikes when you least expect it, after years of being ignored during your entire adolescence. Samael doesn't deserve your attention. If he doesn't want you, why do you keep thinking about him? He doesn't want you, Becca. Understand that he's incapable of loving you!”
“Shut your mouth!” I explode, feeling my nails dig into the glossy edge of the ceramic tub.
“I bet you're waiting for him like a prince on a white horse, hoping he'll save you from the heartless monster you believe you've created,” her slender fingers glide along my leg, moving towards my knee, feeling the pressure of each digit and the gentle caress of fingertips that resemble feline paws. “But you forget that this monster would leap into the flames for you... Isn't it tempting to have him between your legs, not at your feet? You can't tame him, just as you can't control that dirty mouth of yours that only ignites him further.”
