Our fallen souls [EN] (High Enough) : VOLUME 1

16 - Blake

A man approaches with a heavy step, dragging buckets full of water behind him, their contents splashing with every movement. His fucking mop is carelessly clutched in one of his rough hands. His demeanor exudes an annoying casualness, as if he's blasé about the task he's mechanically performing.

I roll my eyes with a mixture of exasperation and resignation, letting out a deep, frustrated sigh. I lean hard against the wall, my shoulders hitting the cold concrete. Without a word, the man enters the room, making the door creak behind him. He places the buckets and mop on the floor with a heavy gesture, as if he were getting rid of them. Then, in a way that scares the hell out of me, he turns to Joséphine, his insistent gaze roaming disturbingly over the curves of her body.

"If you need anything else, come and see me, I'll open the storeroom for you," he says unhealthily.

I immediately place myself between them, my shoulders straightening, adopting a protective posture. I don't really know what's gotten into me, but I guess I still need to protect her. "If she requires anything, I'll go myself," I blurt out, staring into his eyes.

The fucking bastard stares at her insolently and lets out a smug laugh that makes my blood boil. His laugh sounds like a spit in my fucking face, pushing me over the edge.

"Thank you," she murmurs when the man finally pulls away. Her gaze meets mine, a mixture of gratitude and a spark of admiration in her eyes.

Silence settles in, heavy and electric at the same time, as the door closes of its own accord, leaving us alone in this fucking room. A strange feeling of intimacy washes over me as we stand there, face to face, locked in this suspended moment. She sets to work in silence, her gaze fixed on her task, grabbing a broom to start picking up the dust strewn across the floor. The sunlight filtering through the large windows gently illuminates the room, highlighting every graceful movement of her arms. She's so immersed in her chores that I feel almost invisible, but I can't help watching her, intrigued by her concentration. Her long chestnut hair slides lightly over her shoulders, and she lets out a small, concentrated sigh.

"What was it?" I finally ask her, no longer able to resist curiosity.

"What?" she replies, without turning away from her work.

"That backward movement you had."

"It was nothing."

"Tell me."

She finally stops, lightly wiping away a lock of hair that falls in front of her eyes. Her brown eyes land on me, and I can see a mixture of reluctance and vulnerability. "It's none of your business."

"I just want to know."

She lets out an almost imperceptible sigh, then gives me a determined look.

"You never answer my questions, why should I answer yours?"

She's right.

I sit down on a table and light a cigarette.

"What's wrong with you?" she shouts, coming towards me. She snatches the cigarette from my hand.

"Like a feeling of déjà vu", I remark with a smile.

This girl, damn it, she gets all my attention, even in the most mundane situations.

"There's no smoke detector here," I say, taking up my cigarette.

She looks up at the ceiling and sighs. "Why did you hit Peter?" she says, returning to her normal routine.

"None of your business," I answer in a whisper.

I can't help savoring this game between us, this almost electric confrontation.