A small scare.

Reaching the wooden frame, my trembling fingers found the latch. I opened the shed and, in an automatic and naive gesture, pulled the metal chain that hung from the ceiling. Click.

The world exploded in brightness. The strong tungsten lamp flooded every corner of the shed—and every inch of my body—with a merciless yellow light. I was startled, my heart leaping in my throat, but I quickly remembered the irony of the situation: it wasn't as if I was hiding my "acceptable nudity." In fact, under that light, I looked like a museum piece on display for anyone who looked from the upper windows of the house.

I feared the drinks had run out. The dread of having to go back to the kitchen empty-handed and tell my mother there was nothing left was real. The way she was today, with that obsession of "showing me off," I wouldn't doubt for a second that she'd **** me to go to the corner store to buy more—and I'd have to go exactly like that, without a shred of fabric, under the pretext that "it was still my brothers' fault." Luckily, there they were: several packs of Coca-Cola right near the entrance, glistening with condensation from the cold.

I crouched down, feeling the tension on the skin of my thighs and the total exposure of my backside to the dark yard behind me. I felt the icy night air circulate between my legs as I stretched, feeling more **** than ever.

That's when the panic happened.

As soon as my hands touched the cold plastic of one of the packs, a frantic movement emerged from the gap between the boxes. A huge cockroach sprouted from the darkness, its antennae whipping the air before opening its wings with a dry, disgusting noise. The next second, she flew straight toward me, the sound of her wings beating like thunder in the silence of the shed.

"AHHHH!" The scream escaped my throat, sharp and laden with pure terror.

I tried to recoil in a **** leap, but my bare feet slipped on the damp, slippery grass of the driveway. My balance vanished. I dropped the pack of drinks, which fell with a heavy thud, and, in a moment of utter helplessness, I landed on my backside in the grass, right on the illuminated part that jutted out from the shed. The impact was dull and icy, and there I was: fallen with my legs spread, exposing my intimacy to the night sky, completely naked and ****.

The silence that followed my scream was terrifying. I knew that sound had traveled across the yard and reached the ears of whoever was in the kitchen.