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17 || Waterfall

TW: talk about self-harm
This is a longer chapter (4K words), I'm really sorry for it, but it's mostly dialogue and it's all important. Hope you enjoy it

•Sinner / Andy Grammer•
I've been throwing stones
Waiting by the river

The forest's deep scent embraces us as I and Victor walk further into the woods. The motorcycle trip took quite some while as he drove away from the town, up the hills.

His hair sways as he walks in front of me, guiding me through the forest's path. Tall trees surround us, the sunlight barely reaching past the thick leaves. Our breathing fills the air as my muscles pull, my legs aching after walking for some time.

I notice how Victor gets paler, his chest working fast as he tries to catch oxygen. But he doesn't stop, making me whine as I see we have reached another rocky part.

''I was joking before, but this is starting to really seem like the start of a thriller movie where the girl gets ripped apart, her intestine falling from her open stomach as she takes her last breath,'' I mutter, my hands collapsing on my knees, my sweaty hair brushing on the side of my neck.

''You watch a lot of horror movies, don't you? This was way too descriptive.'' Victor chuckles, his head shaking as he hands me a water bottle. 

I down half of the liquid, the icy water sipping down my throat. ''I've learned a lot of survival skills with this type of film, okay?'' I mockingly say, straightening my posture.

He grabs the bottle, guiding it to his mouth as he starts walking again. ''Come on. If you stay behind you will be facing another type of survival thriller, and this time it'll be against a bear,'' he shouts as he leaves me behind.

''There are no bears in Brazil,'' I fire back, lazily walking.

A second later, I get the answer that makes me remember exactly why I hate the woods so much, ''But there are snakes.''

''What?'' I scream, my body shrinking as I look to the ground. ''Victor!''

I bolt towards his direction. He laughs as I shake my legs, feeling things moving up them.

''Shush it. Are you listening?'' he asks, his fingers coming to my lips.

''I, hmm, listening to what?'' My eyebrows frown, my head moving from one side to the other, ''A snake? Where?'' My voice comes out high pitched as I almost jump on Victor's back, making him laugh harder, his head falling back. ''Don't laugh, asshole.''

''If I knew all I had to do to get you this close was mention some silly snake, I would have done it a long time ago.'' His eyes sparkle, his hands finding my arms.

''Fuck you,'' I manage to say, a smile on my lips.

''For real. Just listen,'' he whispers, very close to my ear.

And I do. I look up, focusing on the wind and what sounds it carries. My hands lean on his chest as a humming swirl in my ears. It's distant, but it's constant, a calming melody.

''Is it water?'' I ask, and he nods. ''You're not going to drown me, right?'' I tease him, earning a playful nudge on my shoulder. 

I laugh and try to get past him, but he grabs my wrist, ''Oi, close your eyes.'' My head snaps at him, my face frowning, ''I'll not drown you. I just want to see your full reaction."

''Okay..." I sigh, following his command.

His hands grab mine as he guides me through the path. His touch is warm as I take uneasy steps.

''Almost there, just taking a left turn.'' His fingers guide me to the left, our steps echoing as we step on dried leaves and sticks.

His touch leaves me, and I hear him stepping to the side. ''And here we are,'' he says happily as I blink, opening my eyes.

Oxygen escapes my lips as I admire the gorgeous waterfall right in front of me. The sound of water hitting rocks reaches my ears louder. It's as fast as children running down the stairs on Christmas morning. And the view is amazing. My head rises, seeing how tall the fall is. Rock walls cage us, but it's not suffocating. It's actually, like breathing freely for the first time after being underwater.

''Wow,'' I mumble, finding Victor smiling as he looks at me.

''I know right?'' He moves closer standing right by my side, ''And there, are you seeing it? The exact spot where the sun touches the water droplets.'' His head looks to the waterfall, his finger guiding my eyes. A smile opens on my lips as I observe the small rainbow floating in the air. And I nod.

I look at him, his features completely relaxed. ''You come here often?''

''When I was a teenager, I used to,'' he says, unzipping his coat, his chest rising under the white t-shirt. ''Do you know how to skip stones?''

''Skip what now?''

He stares at me for a second with an oh-poor-child look, his mouth set on a crooked smile, ''You're way too city girl, Jesus Christ.'' He steps closer to the lake, the clear water from the waterfall shining a deep blue. ''Come here. I won't bite," he says, over his shoulder, ''Only if you ask."

I roll my eyes, but I move nonetheless. He bends, his knee almost touching the wet stones.

''First, choose a flat stone, size of your palm,'' he says, his fingers trailing the stones, handing me one. ''Now hold it with your thumb and middle finger, the index goes along the edge.'' He shows, moving my fingers and coming behind me.

''Face the water in a slight angle, and just throw it. Not hard, fast. It's all on your wrist movement,'' he says calmly, his warm breath hitting the side of my neck.

I inhale, our proximity making me forget all he has just said. But I close my eyes, focusing. I feel the cold stone against my fingertips. And my hand moves, throwing it in a quick move.

My face frowns when I see it sinking as soon as it meets the water, my head falling back, collapsing against Victor's chest as he laughs behind me. ''Well, you suck,'' he states, his touch lingering on my waist before he steps away, grabbing and handing me a new stone. ''Guess you just have to try it again."

''Is this our new class?'' I ask, my fingers putting loose strands of my hair behind my ear.

''Yeah, why not?"

He just shrugs as I sigh, grabbing the grey stone. It's lighter than the other one, and I replay his commands in my mind.

The second time is still not my lucky one. And I try again. Over and over. Victor also joins me, his stones always skipping at least two times.

Our memories are thrown as well, he telling me how, when he was a kid, he used to come here with his father.

Victor throws another stone. But this time, on thin air, the small rock swirling and collapsing in his open palm once more. ''When I was a teen, this was the place I'd go seeking some comfort." His shoulder lifts, brushing on his cheek. ''My dad was not the same anymore and, I don't know, this was my place, away from other people and their presumptions of me,'' he chuckles, his eyes never meeting me. ''Well,  it's also perfect to swoon girls."

I notice how his smile doesn't reach his eyes, and I feel the tensions growing between us.

''Go straight to your point, Macedo. I can see you struggling with your words from here,'' I say calmly.

''I, hmmm." His neck turns towards me, ''Are we going to talk about Friday night?''

''No,'' I fire back quickly, my defensive walls surrounding me.

He sighs, his fingers caging the stone harder, ''Elena..."

''So, you were a player back in high school, interesting.'' I try to change the subject, bouncing on my heels.

''Yes, I was. No, I'm not proud of it. I used sex to avoid a lot of my problems. It's a pretty common coping mechanism, I'm sure you're familiar with it too." His tone is dry, and if I was holding a stone right now, it would be hitting him straight on the nose.

''You don't know me."

''You're not that difficult to read."

''And what about you? Rich kid. Daddy issues. Dead mommy issues. Angst teen. Blame swimming inside of your eyes. Privileged. Psychology textbook case,'' I spat, sarcasm dripping from my mouth.

''I've taken some psychology classes too, y'know?'' He lets go of his stone, the harsh contact of it with the other rocks resonates between us. ''And you, Elena, do deny a lot. Don't you?'' His words are sharp, cutting deep.

''Running away.'' He steps closer, ''Avoiding."

''What the fuck are you doing?'' I ask, my eyes throwing daggers at him.

But he doesn't stop, his metallic voice hitting my wounds, as painful as a knife. ''Deflecting." And I step back, not wanting to listen anymore, ''Externalizing responsibility."

''Oh, fuck you. Only because you know big words don't mean you actually know shit." My tone is poison, trying to hurt him back.

''Minimization."

''Minimization?''

''Yeah, you clearly don't take seriously your condition," he almost shouts, his arms flying up, collapsing against his tights in the descend.

''My condition?'' I ask angrily. This time, I'm the one stepping closer, shoving him hard. ''You know what? It's not because we have shared a couple of hours and silly jokes together that you can become... this." My open hands move in front of his face, trying to make a point.

''I'm not a lost puppy to be helped and I'm not your mother to be saved." I can see his eyes darkening when I mention his mom, but right now I don't have it in me to care, my anger boiling my insides, making me remember why I try to swallow my hate so hard. It can be dangerous, intoxicating. ''Two can play the analyzing game, Victor. And, I..., I really don't even get why you care so much. If you want to get into my pants just say the words, don't need to act all caring and shit, we are not fifteen anymore.''

He laughs, his mouth dripping anger as well, "Screw you, Elena. I don't get it too, but for some fucking reason I care about your stubborn and complicated brain. And I don't want you hurting yourself."

''Hurting myself?'' I ask in disbelief, the words scratching my throat in their way out, especially when I notice his stare moving to my right thigh for a split second, the oxygen vanishing from my lungs, ''Do you... do you think I did it to myself?''

''I-"

''Go to hell, Victor.'' I don't wait to see his reaction, quickly turning and walking away, feeling the tears reaching my eyes, wanting to run down all the way just like a waterfall.

''What else am I supposed to think? The way you behaved. It kept me thinking yesterday for the entire day. And you don't want to talk about it. So I can only come with assumptions,'' he says calmer, a sigh escaping his lips as he tries to reach me.

''Who the fuck do you think you are?'' My eyes find him as I look over my shoulder, ''You're not supposed to think anything,'' I spat the words, ''I'm nothing to you. You've nothing to do with my business."

''You brought me to your business the second you begged me to kiss you, and then run away out of nowhere. I even thought I had done something. Did I?'' he pleas, ''And I'm sorry if I care enough to check on you and be here," he screams, his hands running through his hair.

''Are you not listening to me? I. Don't. Need. You.'' I turn again, facing him, but with every new word, I take a step back.

''You don't need anyone, do you?''

''Fuck you." My throat is as dry as a desert. ''Fuck you, and your arrogant ass.''

His hand comes to me, encaging my wrist, his voice loud, ''Just tell me that you didn't do it to yourself. Tell me and I'll drop it."

''I don't owe you anything,'' I answer, anger behind my irises as I try to hold back my other emotions.

''Just tell me, for god's sake,'' he screams at my face, his hold tightening.

''Get off of me, Victor," I shout back, pulling my arm away.

I just want to get away from here. Away from all his questions.

''Elena!"

''Why do you care so much?'' Why can't he just drop it? He is getting too close. Looking too deep.

''Just answer me."

''Why do you even think it?'' My hands collapse against my face, my fingers squeezing my eyes.

''Why is it so absurd to think it?'' He scoffs, steeping closer one more time. I can't breathe. ''Why?''

''Because I would never do it. I'm not fucking weak!" The words leave my mouth before I even get a chance to understand what they mean.

The tension between us right now is palpable. And I wonder how the hell I've managed to fuck this up too.

I stare at him, and the pain across his face is like a stab right at my heart. He looks away, swallowing.

The silence is slow torture. Weak, unstable, crazy. The bile rises, my skin on fire. But what knocks the wind out of me is what Victor does next. His fingers curl up in the sleeve of his jacket, slowly pulling it up. On his left arm, thin lines across his skin. Old scars against his pale epidermis.

''Victor-'' I barely am able to form the word, my eyes glued to his arm.

''That is why I care so much,'' he mutters, his voice soft now.

He walks towards me, calmly grabbing my fingers between his. Only now I realize how hard I was squeezing my hands, my palms throbbing.

''I'm such an-''

''Asshole? Yeah,'' he cuts me, both of us laughing for a second, the tension slightly fading away. ''But I get it. I've heard worse. Fuck, I've said worse, too."

My fingers trail his hands, following the path till his arm. I look at him, silently asking permission before skirting over his scars. ''They seem old."

''A decade old,'' he answers, his eyes fixed on me. Victor is skinny, but he has muscles, and his skin is warm against my fingertips. Black tattoos surround his epidermis, but none of them reach the scars, the white marks left wide visible.

''Some were deep,'' I whisper, my eyes finding his as a thin smile opens on his lips.

''I can be the master in avoidance too,'' he starts, pulling me by my hand, both of us reaching the lake once more.

He sits on a large rock, his foot tapping on the ground as my fingers continue drawing shapes against his skin.

''My dad's family is rich, like really rich. Some still live in the region, some others live all around the world. We've a lot of companies to run. My mom didn't come from money, but she was my father's high school sweetheart.

''Long story short, even though a lot of the family didn't approve, they got married and soon later had me. But then, she couldn't have kids anymore. And after years of doctor appointments, they decided to adopt when I was eight. My dad was a good man, but suddenly he had become a bastard, caring more about money and appearances than anything else.''

I chew the inside of my cheek, paying the utmost attention to each word. They unfold carefully in his tongue, and I notice how his face frowns from time to time.

''He started spending more time in the capital, running the construction company. He gave us food and money, he gave my mom the bookstore. Keep your wife happy, right?'' He chuckles, his head shaking, ''He loved Akira too, but I bet that the racism from the rest of the family affected him on some level."

His eyes darken, and I notice the emotions flashing in his irises, falling from his mouth.

''I was sixteen when I caught my dad and some college girl screwing. I didn't want to make my mom sad, but more than anything, I wanted the car he promised me if I kept my mouth shut.'' He closes his eyes for a second before continuing, ''I'm indeed a textbook case. Rich kid going wild just trying to get the daddy's attention. I didn't need to work hard in school. My dad didn't give a shit. My mom was too focused on Akira and her pre-teen years. Aiden was going through some dark phase too. So, girls, alcohol, and drugs were all we cared about.

''Till I crashed the car against a tree. Not the one that my dad promised me. But one of his own cars. I was drunk and high in ecstasy.''

I squeeze his hand tighter.

''My father was able to sweep the accident under the rug. But then, my mom, hmmm, she found out about the affair. They got a divorce. The whole town was talking about it, and me. My father moved to the capital, four hours away, my mom found comfort in drinking. I guess she got inspired by me."

His last words are sharp, and I can see all the blame he carries.

''Akira was only thirteen.''

''You took care of her." The words leave my mouth alongside a deep sigh, already seeing where this story is heading to.

''I did. I'll never forget waking up in the hospital and her teary eyes looking at me. I stopped partying and having meaningless sex. But I was weak."

I flinch.

''There is nothing wrong in being weak, Elena. I had no idea what a healthy coping mechanism looked like. My mental skills were weak. They were too fragile. And it's okay.

"It just means you have to try again."

I can't hold back the stupid smile opening on my lips as he says the same words from before when teaching me how to skip stones.

Maybe it's the same when skipping pains.

Try again. Till you don't sink.

''It took me almost five years to realize it. I was taking care of Akira and making sure my mom would not suffocate on her own vomit. And, without drinking, I started cutting. I needed some control over my life. I couldn't simply go to college as I had planned, I had my sister to look after.

''So, I stayed in this fucking town till Akira graduated. When I was twenty, it was terrifying. Having to actually live for me. There were no parties and no one that actually needed to be taken care of.

''I could finally move out. I could leave things behind. But the cutting followed me," he finishes, his voice drained of any energy.

His eyes find me now, his foot never stops tapping. 

''It's hard to break a habit,'' I say softly, in understanding.

''It's.'' His head shakes, a smile opening on his dry lips, ''I needed professional help. And I needed to stop denying so much.

''I'm still learning, though. I haven't self-harmed in almost ten years. But only when my mom got sick, cirrhosis, was when I stopped running from her.''

One of his hands comes to his face, rubbing his jaw. His other hand continues holding mine mindlessly, my free fingers dancing on his exposed arm.

''It's not a meaningful story. It's not supposed to be propaganda," he states seriously, ''It's definitely not a type of 'scars mean I survived' bullshit. I just wanted to explain why my brain went to this place and why I care so much.'' His shoulder lifts, his eyes blinking. ''It's hard to ask for help.

''It's hard to know how to ask for help,'' he says each syllable carefully, the words crashing into me like a heavy wave.

''You know, not all scars mean survival. Dead bodies carry scars too,'' I mutter, and he laughs, truly laughs, the tension completely vanished. ''Terrible timing, I'm sorry.''

''No, no. I liked it," he says, his foot relaxing, stoping its obsessive movement. ''They are all simply scars. I don't need to actually find a deeper meaning behind these white lines."

Listening to him is like being hypnotized, his voice echoing through my body, reverberating in my nerves.

''I don't need to use them as a survival certificate. Because, sure as hell, I survived despite them. And I don't need to put so much weight on them either, always remembering what was going inside my mind that time. It took years, but now I look at them and I only see...''

''Scars," I complete.

''It doesn't make much sense, does it?'' he asks, scratching his neck.

I shake my head slowly, ''It does, actually.''

And at this moment, just like before when I saw the rainbow against the waterfall, I look at Victor just at the right angle. Seeing something hidden too, a connection forming between us.

''How did you do it?'' I find myself asking, really wanting to know the answer.

He smiles tenderly at me, pulling me closer. ''Time. It doesn't make things go away. But it gives you the chance to try again.

''Professional help. That was the worst, I was the most annoying patient ever,'' he chuckles, the dimples showing on his cheeks. ''And moving away. It actually was running at first. But, incredibly, it helped. Any new change gives you a sense of new possibility. The rest is upon you to actually do something about it.''

I notice the deep meaning behind his words, and how he looks at me with some sparkle behind his eyes.

Upon you to actually do something about it. This is his way to push me, and I wonder if he is pushing too hard. I don't know if I'm ready. I don't know if I can do this.

But again, when will I be ready to finally stop avoiding my past?

Sharing is a two ways street, buddy. My own words from Friday resonate in my ears. And the rest of that night flashes in front of my bare eyes.

Victor gets up. His touch leaving me as he leans down, grabbing a small rock and throwing it in the air, soon grabbing it again. He turns, facing me as his fingers hand me the grey, flat stone.

''Come on, try again."

I look at his open hand. And then I look at him.

The anger still crawls at my insides, thinking that I owe him nothing. But the blame dances too, acid burning my stomach as I swallow all the guilty I carry - adding one more after what I just said to Victor.

However, the way he looks at me, just at the right angle. Looking at me and seeing some girl I wished I could be. Melts my walls, one after the other. Maybe, I can try again. Maybe, this time the stone won't sink so fast. Maybe, I won't either.

——•:•——
HOPE YOU ENJOYED THE CHAPTER. DONT FORGET TO VOTE. THANKS FOR READING

- I hope the length wasn't too tiring, and that you liked to know more about Victor and liked how I developed the chapter

- Self harm and mental health are tricky subjects, complicated to talk about and I really don't want to work with them in a toxic way. So please tell me if I ever write anything toxic or too triggering. Take care of yourself

•any thoughts?

*this chapter is dedicated to AnaVeran Tysm for being here babe

[sneak peek 18: first answers, what happened regarding the scar and connecting some things]

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