Page 55 of The Secrets of a Sin

“She told me what he did or what he tried to do.” The cop went on loudly. “Said he was persistent in trying to get into her pants until he decided to take matters into his own hands.”

My eyes sear into Mr. Rossi, who looks utterly defeated and mortified but doesn’t deny it. He doesn’t scream his innocence or try to defend himself. Instead, he remains silent under our brutal stares. Rolland cuts in, placing his palm onto the other cop's shoulder and pulling off to the side. “What’s going on?” He orders quietly, trying to get answers while at the same time trying to calm down the heated deputy.

“She confessed he tried groping her fucking thigh in the middle of class, and when I asked him about it, he didn’t deny it.” He shouted, angrier than before, and almost swiveled back around to confront Mr. Ben again.

“Cool it.” Rolland demands as he glares hard into the younger man's heated face. Rubbing a lone finger across his brow, his eyes flutter closed for a moment before peering over the cop’s shoulder and looking around the room. “Where is the girl anyway? I’d like to have a word with her.”

I also glance all around me and notice Priscilla is nowhere to be found, but I had a feeling she wasn't too far away.

“She’s in the classroom next door with Sully and a few other teachers.” He nods towards the wall. “Tough fuckin’ girl that one is. Barely a scratch on her.”

I wasn’t surprised at all by how ferocious she was attacking him. No matter how hard he was trying to shove her off, it was as if she had some superhuman strength. And everything he did was no match for the rage that was surely coursing through her veins.

With a nod, Rolland stalks towards me and tilts his head for me to follow. But before we exit the room, Rolland spins his head and focuses back on the cop. “Don’t say a word to him until I come back.”

He dips his head in obedience but appears less than reluctant to follow his instructions. We leave the room, and I quickly reach for his forearm before we go any further. “I think I should stay out here while you talk to her.” I admit feeling resistant to confront Priscilla after what I just saw. Her eyes would be solely focused on me the second I set foot into that room. She was going to make it her mission to make me feel as uncomfortable as possible, even if she was being interrogated by Rolland. And I still didn’t know why.

Maybe she really did hate me? Or perhaps she only liked me when she could tease me? Either way, she was as dangerous as she was unstable. A perfect example of the kinds of women St. Catherine’s holds, and even I couldn’t deny the slight fear she bestowed on me.

“Why?” He questions, dipping both brows until his forehead creases.

Running my palms down the sides of my skirt, I feel my cheeks flush but keep my eyes trained on his. “She’s not exactly fond of me, and I highly doubt she’d feel comfortable having me in there while you question her.” I tell him the half-truth, and he slowly scoffs.

“Why wouldn’t she like you?” He seems amused and interested.

“I guess I’m not her cup of tea. I don’t know?” I groan, shaking my head until I start to concentrate on the gun holster strapped to his hip.

“Fine.” He agrees, noticing the conversation was going nowhere anyway. “Just stay here and wait for me.” He commands, and when I nod, he leaves me standing in the empty corridor alone.

* * *

Fifteen minutes pass, then thirty, then forty, and I’m still standing in the hallway waiting for Rolland or really anyone else to walk out of the classroom. My feet and back are beginning to bother me, so as I’m about to drop to my ass and sit with my back against the wall, the door beside me starts to slowly creep open. I immediately freeze, waiting for someone to come out, and when I catch Rolland strutting out, I notice Priscilla is directly behind him. Her demeanor seems relaxed and calm as her now washed-off mouth and wild eyes are back to normal. Rolland brushes past me with a straight face and hardened jaw and heads for the classroom with Mr. Rossi inside.

“What’s going…” I start to say, but my eyes suddenly connect with Priscilla’s as she starts to pass me. Everything seems to stop around me, including my breathing. I feel as if her eyes are trying to enter my soul, perhaps trying to frighten me even more now that I’ve seen her manic. Her pink lips lift into a wicked grin that reminds me of the infamous Ted Bundy. There was something deranged and callous in the way she was smiling at me. Like there was something dark living within the depths of her soul, and it wanted to make its presence known. It wanted me to know.

“You look scared, little mouse?” She taunts while walking a safe distance away from me before stopping beside the doorway. Her hair is down and in a mess of dark waves, and her uniform looks slightly disheveled with her blazer hanging off her shoulder and her white button-up splattered with blood. “Are you?” She tilts her head to the side as she rests it against the wall.

My throat instantly retracts, and I feel uneasy standing alone with her out in the hall, but I respond anyway. “He really touched you?” I ask, watching as she scoffs with a smirk.

“Mr. Rossi has always been a deviant for young women.” She spits, lacing her words with bitterness and malice that bleed through me. “And it’s about time he fucking pays for his sins.”

She doesn’t answer my question directly. Instead, she evades it with a dark comment that does nothing to pacify me. I rear back, stunned as her mouth turns up into an evil smirk again before slowly turning her head as footsteps begin to emerge from the classroom. My eyes also follow the sound, and soon Rolland and the other cop step out with Mr. Rossi trailing in between the both of them with his hands cuffed behind his back. His head is hanging low in defeat, as if trying to conceal himself and the embarrassment of being escorted out of the school. I couldn’t contain the sharp gasp of breath that shot out of my mouth as one of our teachers was being taken away in cuffs. In barely a month, this was the second tragedy to hit St. Catherine’s, and something about it seemed off. Everything that has been happening here seems fucking strange, and yet, no one seems to think so.

“I thought I told you to go to Principal Welch’s office?” Rolland angrily demands as he comes to a stop just outside the class. His stare meets mine briefly, but I’m promptly brought back to Mr. Ben being held by the other cop. I observe that his sleeve is pulled up completely with a bandage wrapped around his wound. The white gauze circles around his upper arm, leaving his lower half exposed, and I notice black ink trailing up the inside of his forearm.

“Am I not allowed to watch the dirty old man who tried to violate me leave?” Priscilla crosses her arm as her fiery eyes are focused on Rolland. By the ticking of his jaw, he appears highly agitated and annoyed by her disobedience. But as the two of them continue to glare at one another, I’m still trying to decipher what is on his arm. It appears to be words written in black cursive, but as he shifts his arm, my eyes catch a glimpse of exactly what the ink says.

Nunc scio quid sit Amor.

I knew those words.

I felt those words sink into my chest and cause every working organ in my body to give out suddenly. I couldn’t catch my breath as my lungs began to collapse painfully, and my heart thundered mercilessly to the point my knees started to buckle.

Mr. Rossi wasn’t just a teacher at St. Catherine’s.

He was Phoebe’s lover.

18

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