Noemia placed both palms on the windowpane, her body trembling. Sweat trickled down her neck, soaking the black cloth clinging tightly to her skin. A chill crept up her spine from behind.
She pulled her arms back and slowly turned around. Her head moved ninety degrees from the wall, and without glancing around, she began marching forward...like a victor who knew exactly where she was headed.
"Bitch thinks I'm an idiot," Angelo muttered, glancing around before quietly following her without drawing attention.
Noemia hurried down the stairs, her hair fluttering behind her. She rushed through the school gate, grabbed her bike, scanned the area briefly, then pedaled hard toward her apartment. She climbed the stairs two at a time, stopped in front of a room, pulled the key from her bag, and unlocked the door.
Panting, she entered and shut it firmly behind her.
She stepped into her bedroom. The water jug glowed faintly in the light.
Grabbing it, she drank directly from the jug. But mid-sip, her eyes narrowed...then widened. The jug slipped from her hands and shattered on the floor.
"Your sweat smells so damn sweet. And that dress, clinging to your body like that… it's really turning me on," a voice spoke from behind.
She turned slowly, fear creeping into her expression. "How did you get in here? What do you want?" Noemia asked, eyes fixed on the figure.
Angelo was sitting on her bed.
"Oh, come on. What do you think I want? I'm just here to take what's mine." He smirked.
Her face was drenched in sweat. She looked around the room, avoiding eye contact. Then she bolted for the door.
"Ah, ah, ah...… don't drag others into a lover's quarrel." Angelo grabbed her hair and covered her mouth.
"No! Let go!" she screamed, muffled, and bit his palm.
"Ah! You little....stay still!" he shouted and slammed her onto the bed.
"Ahhh!" she cried, trying to push herself up.
"So....… do you accept me as your husband?" Angelo leaned in, his breath hot on her face.
Noemia turned her head away. "Not in hell. I'd rather marry a pig than love a bastard like you."
"God, I love that fire in you," he said, gripping her cheek and forcing her to face him. "That spicy mouth of yours is exactly why I'm drawn to you."
"I'm not scared of you," she hissed. "You're just a sidekick to a mafia thug. You think that scares me?"
"Watch your mouth, bitch!" Angelo growled and slapped her.
"Agh!" She glared at him with piercing eyes. Blood trickled from her lip.
Angelo wiped it with his finger, then licked it. "Beautiful. So fresh."
"You freak. You really think acting like a deranged animal will make me fear you?" she spat. Her hands were pinned down by his grip.
"No. I want you to fight. Without resistance, victory feels empty. But once I dress you in bridal clothes, that will be my ultimate triumph." He patted her belly.
"Hah....… a coward like you? Dressing me in wedding clothes?" she sneered. "You're just a lapdog for some wannabe king. Forcing yourself on a girl who can't even fight back—that's your idea of power? Pathetic."
"Shut your damn mouth or you'll be begging for your happiness," Angelo's expression darkened.
"You might be able to scare me, but at least I have the strength to face reality....unlike you." Her eyes sharpened. "Even if I lose, even if you force me into being your bride….. do you know what will amuse me the most?"
Angelo blinked. "What?"
"When your 'boss' kicks your sorry ass in front of me. When you beg like a worthless slave. That's when I'll smile. Because no matter what you do...you're not the king. You're just a pawn."
"Shut up!" Angelo screamed and shoved his fingers into her mouth. "You bitch...I'll show you!"
He panted heavily, staring down at her.
"Should I break her now….....? No. I'll wait. After marriage. That's when I'll win for real—when she finally submits," he whispered, eyes roaming over her.
Then something caught his attention. "Oh? What a beautiful pendant....…" He yanked it from her neck.
"No! Give it back! That's the only thing I have from my mother...please!" Noemia cried, her voice breaking.
"Oh? Where's that tough act now?" Angelo teased. "Stay like this. You look much prettier."
He stood up, heading for the door.
"No...don't! Please, give it back!" Noemia grabbed him from behind.
"Give it back? Give what back?" Angelo turned and faced her with a cold grin.
"Where is it? Where did you hide it?" She started shaking him, desperate.
"I don't have it anymore," he said, then pushed her against the wall.
"If you want it, come to my side. Pretend we're a real couple. Hold my hand, eat with me, wipe my mouth when we're done." He opened the door. "Then maybe....… I'll give it back."
"No! You bastard! Why me?! Please….... don't take it. It's all I have left of her," Noemia sobbed, slowly collapsing to the floor.
Her cries echoed in the room. But the walls were the only witnesses.
And the problem with walls is…..... they can't help a crying girl.
While this was going on, her window glass had cracked.