Page 61 of The Secrets of a Sin

That was the question of the hour, but now, we had another indication that someone else had an arm in Phoebe’s death.

Or, possibly, multiple people.

20

ARSEN

As much as I wanted to get lost between her luscious thighs and forget fucking everything that has happened, I won’t.

I can’t.

My whole life, I’ve managed to evade my emotions. Where sadness and joy were easier to avoid, anger was my drawback. It burned within my belly as if it was always waiting for the perfect moment to strike and consume me whole. At age six, I discovered what the pain from a kick to the stomach felt like. It was a pivotal moment for my youth. A crucial point in my life where I uncovered a sickening rage that was brewing deep within me. By ten, dark thoughts invaded my head, and every waking day and night, I imagined all the ways I’d inflict pain on those who abused us. I was small and frail, but I knew one day I’d be strong enough to kill. At that young of an age, I knew no one else was going to keep Phoebe and me safe.

It was my obligation to protect us, and I kept that promise up until recently.

Now everything was more fucked up than before. Who I had thought killed her, didn’t. Now, it was possible three other girls could have been responsible for her death, or at least they knew more than they let on.

“Arsen?” Charlotte’s timid voice materializes. I had almost forgotten her small form resting in the passenger seat beside me. Glancing over, I notice she has one leg propped up onto the seat, under her other leg, and her small hand bounces steadily over her thigh. She’s unsure of herself. Uncomfortable around my fragile state and vulnerability. She can’t even look me in the eyes. I want to seize her hand like she did mine and demand her to meet my stare. I need her to tell me everything is going to be okay.

I need her to tell me all the reasons why I shouldn’t fucking want her.

“What?” I force out, keeping my eyes on the road in front of me.

“You passed St. Catherine’s.”

Yah, you’re fucking lucky I passed it.

“I know.” I grunt, sensing the gears turning in her head already.

“Well, where are we going then?” Her usually timid voice is uneasy and angry. For my selfish reasons, I need her with me tonight. She was my life vest when life was continually trying to drown me. She sparked hope in the deepest parts of my heart, whether I liked it or not, and tonight, I wasn’t going to let her get away.

“My house.”

From my peripheral vision, I see her chocolate locks sway as she shakes her head. “I can’t… I can’t go to your house.” She scoffs like the idea of coming home with me is far-fetched for her.

“You can, and you will.” I demand harshly, wanting her for once to just give in and obey me.

It was goddamn exhausting.

“Or walk back to the school once we get there. I don’t fucking care.” As the words slip past my tongue, I know it isn’t the truth because I wasn’t going to let her leave. But I’d at least give her hope that there’d be a way out.

What was so bad about coming to my house anyway? Sure, we didn’t exactly get along, but I thought that if she was a decent fucking person, she wouldn’t leave me alone tonight. And I already knew she was good, but with me, she wanted to resist every chance she got.

“If I stay, will you at least drive me back later tonight?” She huffs in annoyance, surprising me with her quickness to give in. I was expecting more.

“Sure.” I give her a vague answer because, in reality, I had no intention of driving her back to St. Catherine’s. Tonight, she was mine. If getting her out of my system wasn’t going to work, I’d at least lose myself in her body to ease the pain of today.

My house was my sanctuary. I never called it home before. Because growing up, I never knew what it was like to have one. I never felt secure or the comfort of living in a loving home. The word ‘home’ changed to ‘hell’. Hell was the place Phoebe and I had survived. As I continue down the winding road towards home, I peek over at Charlotte, who appears in awe as she stares out the window. Towering trees cover each side of the road as we drive further and further into seclusion, and I already feel a weight being lifted off my shoulders as a sense of familiarity and comfort fills my chest.

“Do you live out in the middle of nowhere?” Charlotte questions as her eyes are still glued outside the passenger window. “I haven’t seen a single house in miles.”

“I like my privacy.” I shrug, but mostly I hated the idea of living next to someone. I can barely stand being around Charlotte when she’s disobeying me, so me having a neighbor that I’d feel obligated to interact with would most likely end up being bad for the both of us.

As we climb up the final hill to reveal the driveway, I hear a short intake of breath coming from Charlotte as she notices my house slowly come into view. It wasn’t anything extravagant, but the surrounding trees gave it more appeal. It was in complete disarray when I purchased it. The siding was old and crumbling. The walls were caved in, and the amount of trash and miscellaneous shit stuffed inside the dated Victorian home had been unbelievable. I busted my ass, earned a shit ton of splinters, but within two years, I had created something I was fucking proud of.

“It’s beautiful, Arsen.” Charlotte praises, and my heart flickers. Knowing that she admired my home made me even more appreciative of what I had done.

As I pull into the driveway, Charlotte’s eyes immediately light up now that the house is closer in view. They widen in awe, but there’s also a glimmer to them that makes me want to dive headfirst into their depths and get lost.

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