68
The diamonds sparkle and glimmer. They’re so beautiful that I want to push my hands into them. I want to bathe in them, to swim in them. Instead, I seal the bag, tying a knot on top.
When I faintly hear my name called, I assume it’s Rafe yelling from below. Seconds later, I realize that’s not Rafe’s voice. That sounds like…Ethan?
“Tiffany,” Ethan shouts, closer now, panic pushing his voice an octave higher.
“Ethan! Ethan! I’m here.” I scramble across the support beams, but I’m still far away from the opening when incoherent arguing erupts from the room beneath me. Muffled thumps and crashing noises follow. When I finally reach the edge of the hatch door, I’m shocked by the view below.
Ethan and Rafe face off, circling each other like angry wolves. Judging by their panting breaths and the trickle of blood seeping from Ethan’s brow into his eye, this fight has been going on for a while.
As I watch in horror, Rafe lunges at Ethan, his meaty forearms grabbing only air as Ethan drops to the ground and sweeps his leg out to trip Rafe. It works. Arms flailing, Rafe falls backward, but he bounces up quickly.
Rafe charges at Ethan with his head down like a battering ram. Ethan neatly sidesteps him and catches his arm as he runs past. Using Rafe’s arm for leverage, Ethan swings him back toward him and puts out his elbow, which collides with Rafe’s belly.
Rafe doubles over his wounded stomach, gasping for air. Clutching his abdomen and glaring at Ethan, Rafe dances sideways, light on the balls of his feet, moving like a professional boxer.
Ethan holds his ground, his knees and arms bent in the classic karate ready pose. I recognize it from his morning workouts.
“Ethan! Rafe! Stop!” I shout.
Rafe and Ethan don’t respond to my plea. The men are too busy battling to hear me, or they’re deliberately ignoring me. Either way, I need them to quit fighting before someone gets seriously hurt.
The only way to get down from the attic space is to drop from the ceiling, but it’s a long fall. I’m worried I’ll break a bone. Indecisive, I gnaw on my lip as the fight below continues.
Rafe is the more aggressive fighter of the two men. He closes the distance and ducks under Ethan’s arm to punch him in the ribs.
The wind whooshes out of Ethan as he stumbles from the heavy blow. Rafe follows Ethan’s retreat, sending out a volley of fist punches, one of which lands on Ethan’s back and another on the side of his head.
Ethan sways unsteadily as he circles to the left. Blood streams in a steady rivulet from his brow into his eye. He brushes the blood away with the back of his hand and flicks it to the floor.
Chest heaving, Rafe brings his fists up higher, preparing for another attack.
The sight of Ethan’s blood on Rafe’s hands makes me nauseous. Helpless, I continue to yell from above, begging them to stop, but neither man acknowledges me.
Once Ethan has gained some distance from Rafe, he brings one foot up in the air and then jumps up and kicks that foot out. There’s a sound like the crack of a whip as Ethan’s foot connects with the side of Rafe’s head, which rocks back from the force.
Rafe looks over at Ethan, his face a mask of pure rage. He swings wildly, but Ethan is ready and karate chops Rafe in the neck.
As Rafe reels back, Ethan again lashes out with his foot. The kick solidly contacts Rafe’s head. Rafe claps his hand over his wounded head and wavers, blinking in pain. Ethan’s fist comes from the left and punches Rafe in the jaw. It’s the last blow. Rafe slumps to the ground, unconscious.