Helanie:
"Don’t cry if you get hurt in the process," he said, looking so happy, as if he already knew he would win.
"I wo—" I was about to confirm I wouldn’t when he lunged at . As soon as he grabbed my arm, I started scratching him.
I know that wasn’t part of the match, but I had learned to defend myself with whatever I could.
"If that’s how you want to play," he grunted, grabbing my wrists to stop and shoving against the tree.
I didn’t realize it would be so easy for him to overpower .
"Since we don’t have anything to restrain you with, keeping you still for a minute should work just the sa," he whispered in my face, leaning over as he pinned to the tree.
Our eyes t for a brief mont, and I ca up with my next plan. I turned my face to the side and bit his left arm so hard that I swear I could taste his blood.
"Let go!" I scread, only to try biting him on the neck when he freed his hand. That’s when he had to back away to avoid it, and I managed to free myself.
I tried to run, but he reached out again. This ti, he accidentally grabbed my sweater, and the next thing I knew, I heard a loud ripping sound.
My body went numb. All thoughts of the fight left my mind as I stopped and stared at my sweater.
"My sweater!" I uttered helplessly. He froze completely and stepped back, raising his hands to show he was surrendering.
"Why would you do that?!" I scread at the top of my lungs. Even though I had a shirt on underneath, I felt so exposed.
The ripping sound triggered sothing deep within . I tried so hard to control my emotions and not let my trauma show, but I couldn’t help it.
"You said you wanted to fight—" he said, sounding exhausted, using a tone that made it seem like I was overreacting.
"You idiot—" I shouted, slapping his chest and then lunging at him in a full-blown catfight, flailing my arms wildly to hit him wherever I could.
"Okay, enough!" he said, putting his hand on my forehead and pushing away. I kept swinging my arms, but his extended arm and firm hand on my forehead prevented from reaching him.
He stood effortlessly in his spot, watching with a mix of exhaustion and disbelief.
"You’re so an—why would you do that? Don’t you know it hurts? It’s my freaking birthday, and you ruined it! You had no right to do that! When I say don’t—it ans don’t!" I yelled, my voice muffled against his palm as I kept flailing my arms recklessly.
Then, suddenly, he moved his hand, and the montum I’d been using to reach him made stumble forward uncontrollably.
I landed straight against his chest with a thud, my fists softly pounding on him. I kept sobbing and screaming into his chest, my eyes tightly shut because I didn’t want to face reality.
The reality of what my life had turned into.
"I’m sorry."
His sudden apology stopped in my tracks. I sniffled, slowly becoming aware of my outburst. How I reacted was so wrong. He hadn’t done anything malicious—I was just overwheld by my own trauma.
That sweater... it had been with through everything. It was more than clothing—it was like a hug, wrapping in safety.
I slowly lifted my head, noticing how he stood there with his hands raised in the air, careful not to touch since I had been yelling at him for doing just that.
"I’m sorry," he said again.
"Uh..." I cleared my throat, feeling utterly embarrassed. "It’s okay. It’s just... I really loved that sweater."
The awkward silence between us felt unbearable, but thankfully, he broke it.
"I can get it stitched for you," he offered, extending his hand toward the torn sweater.
"No need. It was crocheted by my mother when she was young. She gave it to when I was little, saying that one day, when I grew up, I could wear it. But... she’s not my mother anymore. So there’s no reason for to keep it either," I said, each word trembling with emotion.
"About your birthday—," he mumbled.
"I was wrong about that, got confused," I lied quickly.
I turned my body slightly away from him, unable to look Norman in the eye. Slowly, I took off the sweater and threw it on the ground.
"I’m sorry for the bite and the scratches," I said, covering my face with my hands, feeling so stupid.
"It’s okay. You were pretty good," he replied.
I’d never heard Norman try to comfort soone, and it only made feel even more embarrassed about myself. I didn’t want anyone’s pity.
"Don’t lie. The only regret I have is that I couldn’t kick you in the balls," I muttered, feeling bad for not using that move.
"Huh? You were going to kick where? Helanie! The fight was just about tying you to a tree while you defended yourself—not ’let’s kill Norman in the worst way possible,’" he said, his annoyed tone back. Sohow, it helped relax.
"Let drop you ho now. I have to be sowhere soon," Norman said, checking the ti on his phone.
We walked back to the car, and a few minutes later, we were already at ho.
After stepping out of the car and watching Norman drive off for his important eting, I noticed Maximus coming out of the mansion.
"Oh, he left. Did you want to speak with him?" I asked Maximus, looking like he’d been in a hurry to catch his brother.
"Nah, I know he has an important client coming over for dinner. Actually, I ca out for you," Maximus said with a smile. That’s when I noticed how freshly dressed he was.
"What is it?" I asked.
"I need to take you sowhere," he said so casually that I forgot to respond properly for a mont.
Then, as I processed what he’d said, I felt compelled to answer in a way that might’ve hurt his feelings. "I don’t want anyone questioning us, Maximus. I’ll just go back inside and freshen up for the night."
Reviews
All reviews (0)