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The counter attack .(Between Me and my 'Cousin-Aunt '. E12)
Ep12. The counter attack
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She left the store room, without asking any more questions. I followed her. I thought this was the right time to make a move, that if I lost her now, maybe it could go our of my hands.,maybe it could get worse.
She changed the course when we reached her doorstep, she went to terrace to pick up the dried clothes from clothesline. I followed her to the terrace.
“Why are you following me, I am moving up to take the clothes down. Stay here.”
“ I wish to be around you.”
She looked at me coldly. Maybe that was a bit too far. She picked up the clothes one by one, and I thought I could help a bit. Just as I reached the region where innerwears were pinned up, she grabbed clothes from my hands and ordered.
“Take your own clothes and leave”
I looked for my clothes.
“ My shirts are missing.”
“Its with me.” She said.
“ my trunks are only there, you could have took them as well.” I focused on her response.
But she didn’t react. She went down as if she never heard a thing. I took my trunks and followed her. This is the first time she was behaving like this. She used to pick up all my clothes before, but suddenly she had developed an aversion to my inner garments. I realized that the conversation had did its work., and it was not for the better.
I doubted if I should follow her to the room, but I had an excuse, mu shorts were in the heap she carried. So I rushed to her room, it was locked from inside. I knocked.
“What is it?” she asked.
“ Please open.”
“ Tell me what it is.” She repeated.
I kept on knocking until she finally opened.
“ WHAT?” she was clearly furious.
“Ehm.. my shirts are …” I pointed my fingers to the heap that she laid on one side of the bed, the side where I slept when I was sick.
“I put your shirts in grandma’s room, you can collect OT from there.” She interrupted and commanded coldly… and she prepare to close the door again.
In a nick of time, I slid my hands in to prevent her from closing the door. My fingers were slightly crushed and I wailed in pain. She was shocked and she tried to understand what happened. I shook my fingers, put them between my legs and jumped in pain, trying not to wake up my grandma in the other room.
“Show your fingers.” She ordered.
“ why? You hate me.” I screamed.
“ who said I hate you, I want to check if there’s a fracture”
And she pulled up my hand, carefully examined them, and blew on my crushed fingertips. It was a sudden relief. Her warm breath on my fingers.
“Is it paining?” She pressed various parts of my hand to check whether everything was okay.
“What do you expect if you crush your hand between a door?” I tried to play the victim, shaking my fingers to express visible pain.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t see.” Her face frowned in guilty disappointment as she looked my eyes apologetically. And she massaged my hand, then slowly blowed on them once again.
“ I wish you could suck them” I couldn’t control myself and let myself out.
She dropped my hand down.
“What?” she was visibly disgusted.
“Nah, it was just a suggestion to ease pain, like they do in movies.” I bowed down and smiled slyly.
She didn’t appear receptive of my suggestion.
She stated boldly.
“I am scared… I think you are making a move on me…I am scared that you would attack me, that you would abuse me… you are not an innocent child of the family anymore. I am scared of you, not please go out before I have to call your grandma.”
I sensed this wasn’t going where I wish it could. So I stopped fooling around.
“Maybe you have Volini or oxalgin …it hurts.”( not planning an ad, but I wish to stay true to the deets. In our household we use these ointments, and probably that’s what I asked her that day).
She moved in, pulled the dressing table drawer out, and handed me a bottle of volini. I looked at her, pleading with my eyes so that she may massage my hands. She didn’t comply.
“Sorry, but please don’t tell my parents, please don’t inform uncle or grandma. I promise I wont trouble you anymore.”
I said to her when I returned the ointment.
She didn’t extend her hands to take the ointment. So I placed it on the bed, and left the room, slowly closed the door.
I went to terrace, called my father once again.
© loop
.
She left the store room, without asking any more questions. I followed her. I thought this was the right time to make a move, that if I lost her now, maybe it could go our of my hands.,maybe it could get worse.
She changed the course when we reached her doorstep, she went to terrace to pick up the dried clothes from clothesline. I followed her to the terrace.
“Why are you following me, I am moving up to take the clothes down. Stay here.”
“ I wish to be around you.”
She looked at me coldly. Maybe that was a bit too far. She picked up the clothes one by one, and I thought I could help a bit. Just as I reached the region where innerwears were pinned up, she grabbed clothes from my hands and ordered.
“Take your own clothes and leave”
I looked for my clothes.
“ My shirts are missing.”
“Its with me.” She said.
“ my trunks are only there, you could have took them as well.” I focused on her response.
But she didn’t react. She went down as if she never heard a thing. I took my trunks and followed her. This is the first time she was behaving like this. She used to pick up all my clothes before, but suddenly she had developed an aversion to my inner garments. I realized that the conversation had did its work., and it was not for the better.
I doubted if I should follow her to the room, but I had an excuse, mu shorts were in the heap she carried. So I rushed to her room, it was locked from inside. I knocked.
“What is it?” she asked.
“ Please open.”
“ Tell me what it is.” She repeated.
I kept on knocking until she finally opened.
“ WHAT?” she was clearly furious.
“Ehm.. my shirts are …” I pointed my fingers to the heap that she laid on one side of the bed, the side where I slept when I was sick.
“I put your shirts in grandma’s room, you can collect OT from there.” She interrupted and commanded coldly… and she prepare to close the door again.
In a nick of time, I slid my hands in to prevent her from closing the door. My fingers were slightly crushed and I wailed in pain. She was shocked and she tried to understand what happened. I shook my fingers, put them between my legs and jumped in pain, trying not to wake up my grandma in the other room.
“Show your fingers.” She ordered.
“ why? You hate me.” I screamed.
“ who said I hate you, I want to check if there’s a fracture”
And she pulled up my hand, carefully examined them, and blew on my crushed fingertips. It was a sudden relief. Her warm breath on my fingers.
“Is it paining?” She pressed various parts of my hand to check whether everything was okay.
“What do you expect if you crush your hand between a door?” I tried to play the victim, shaking my fingers to express visible pain.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t see.” Her face frowned in guilty disappointment as she looked my eyes apologetically. And she massaged my hand, then slowly blowed on them once again.
“ I wish you could suck them” I couldn’t control myself and let myself out.
She dropped my hand down.
“What?” she was visibly disgusted.
“Nah, it was just a suggestion to ease pain, like they do in movies.” I bowed down and smiled slyly.
She didn’t appear receptive of my suggestion.
She stated boldly.
“I am scared… I think you are making a move on me…I am scared that you would attack me, that you would abuse me… you are not an innocent child of the family anymore. I am scared of you, not please go out before I have to call your grandma.”
I sensed this wasn’t going where I wish it could. So I stopped fooling around.
“Maybe you have Volini or oxalgin …it hurts.”( not planning an ad, but I wish to stay true to the deets. In our household we use these ointments, and probably that’s what I asked her that day).
She moved in, pulled the dressing table drawer out, and handed me a bottle of volini. I looked at her, pleading with my eyes so that she may massage my hands. She didn’t comply.
“Sorry, but please don’t tell my parents, please don’t inform uncle or grandma. I promise I wont trouble you anymore.”
I said to her when I returned the ointment.
She didn’t extend her hands to take the ointment. So I placed it on the bed, and left the room, slowly closed the door.
I went to terrace, called my father once again.
© loop
