When Our Nights Collide Volume 1

Chapter 3: Counterattack

Before attacking the head, get rid of the limbs.

By the time school was over, Robin let me off at the same place as yesterday. The movies he gave me were in a shopping bag, that was now in my struggling hands. It was a little heavy, but I didn’t ask for his help in carrying it home since then there would be no point in getting let off so far away from my house. Though, I would have appreciated if he at least offered to carry it.

“Thanks for this. When should I return them?” I asked with the intent of setting up our third meeting. However my hope was quickly thrown to the trash.

“Nah, keep them. Just focus on your own life and don’t come visit me again.”

He told me in no uncertain terms to stay away, but I didn’t feel upset or annoyed. The things he had done for me in the two days were enough for me to trust him like a childhood friend I could always count on. He had already given me more than a push; if I truly wanted to fix my life I had to count on myself for the next step.

After he drove away, unlike the frail act I put on in front of him, I easily carried the bag home. It was only about two kilograms after all, that wasn’t too much of a problem for me. However, from I was a child I knew that if a girl was seen as too strong, then guys either didn’t treat her as a girl or stayed away. Especially due to a certain incident, I tried to hide my true athletic ability as much as possible.

Once I entered my house, I thought I could just go straight to my room, but to my surprise, a familiar yet rarely seen pair of shoes were on the shoe rack and I heard sounds coming from the kitchen/dining area.

'Could it be?’

I quietly lifted the bag to the stairs before slowly putting it down. I knew that going up these stairs would produce a creaky sound even louder than the door opening, so instead of trying to hide I confronted her.

I strutted into the kitchen, where I saw a lady in her early 40s with short black hair and a stern atmosphere cooking. This was the first time in a week that I had seen her.

“Good evening Liliana.”

“…Good evening Mom.”

This woman who didn’t smile and looked like a grumpy principal was my mother, Annalisa Florence. The times I had seen her show emotion were less than the years I had been alive; she was that kind of person. However, even with our sour relationship I couldn’t help but look forward to what was on the stove. I had to admit, Mom knew how to cook.

“By the way, your school called. They say you’ve been skipping classes for two days now.”

Her words knocked the gluttony right out of me. There was no change in her tone and I couldn’t spot any difference in her expression; this part of her made it even harder for me. Since I couldn’t tell what she was thinking I had to assume the worst case scenario.

“I had stuff to take care of.”

“What was so important that you couldn’t notify your teacher or your parents?”

“I was in a rush okay.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Leave me alone! It’s none of your business.”

I took the bag and dashed up to my room and then slammed the door. This was our relationship. At this point, I couldn’t bring myself to cry to my parents that I was being bullied. It was too late for that.

“You’re too late.”

‘When I wanted you to ask me what was wrong, you weren’t there. So I don’t need you now.’