He then leaned close to my ear, his voice soft and almost coaxing. “I promised her father I wouldn’t let her suffer. Just bear with it a little and put on a show.”
His hand pressed down harder, pushing directly on my injured lower back. A sharp, stabbing pain shot through me, stealing my breath.
Yes, Yvette’s father had helped him once, and he wanted to repay that favor. But what about me?
Years ago, during an inspection of a construction site, a machine malfunctioned. Without thinking, I rushed forward to shield him from the swinging control lever, and it smashed into the side of my lower back, leaving me with a serious injury.
Back then, he had red eyes as he asked if I had a death wish. He massaged my back every day during my recovery.
And now, he was pressing down on the very injury I got for him all to help the person who had humiliated me.
What a ridiculous way to repay kindness.
Those few seconds felt like an eternity. By the time I raised my head again, it felt like my waist had snapped in half.