Page 17 of The Secrets of a Sin

“I’ve done everything, Charlotte.” My name rolls off his tongue sweetly causing me to suppress a moan. “Now I need your fucking help.”

My brows furrow at his confession. “My help? Why?”

“You know the ins and outs of this school. The students, teachers… What really goes behind the doors at St. Catherine’s.” He clasps his hands together bringing my attention to the solid gold ring that rests on his index finger.

“Look, what happened to Phoebe was awful and I’m sorry you’re going through this.” I shiver, breaking out in a cluster of goosebumps. “But I’m not the girl for the job. I have responsibilities that I can’t mess up… and what you’re asking of me would only be a distraction that I can’t afford.”

And I’m terrifyingly attracted to you and all I can think about is touching you.

“Don’t.” He drops his head in a snarl. “Don’t give me your pity when you know she didn’t fucking do this to herself.” His hands are now clenched, squeezing hard to the point they turn white. “You wanna be like all the other assholes who tell me to move on and accept the fact she killed herself?”

“Arsen…” I mumble trying out his name for the first time and he flinches.

“Your mouth doesn’t deserve to speak my fucking name.” He barks causing my irritation to flicker underneath. “If you’re going to be like the rest of the fuckers who tell me to stop… then leave.” He motions towards the door behind me with a shaky finger.

“I’m sorry… I just…” I mutter.

“Go!” He roars causing me to flinch and quickly retreat out of the office. As I step out into the hall, I find Principal Welch leaning with her back up against the wall and a fresh coat of tears staining her face. The minute she notices me, she reaches for my arm and drags me towards her.

“Please.” She begs brushing her dark locks off her face with her free hand. “Don’t say anything.” The second the words slipped out of her mouth, I noticed the desperation in her tone.

Nodding, I didn’t care about what happened or may have happened between the two of them. I just wanted to leave and forget my encounter with Arsen Hale.

4

CHARLOTTE

“You saw my sister, who was brutally murdered, lying in a pool of blood.”

Arsen’s words replayed in my head like a broken record for the next two days. I was in a constant state of what if.

What if Arsen was right?

What if the cops were wrong about her death and she was murdered by some psychopath lurking around the school? All these fucking possibilities and I had no clue who was right or telling the truth. I couldn’t concentrate on my work; sleeping was practically impossible, and my urges were continually getting worse. Everything appeared to be on a downhill slope with no hope of leveling out. But as I was rummaging through my school bag for a pen, the shiny chains of a necklace sent a flutter of hope to my tender heart.

Once class was over and, after a five-minute walk, I entered the library. Walking inside, I couldn’t help but admire its gothic architectural beauty. There were rows upon rows of shelves designed out of polished wood, which glistened in the right amount of sunlight cast by the stained-glass window. A large winding staircase rested in the corner of the room, twirling up to the very top of the bookshelves. Striding further inside, I stop at the front desk where Sister Clarice is busy typing on her computer. She notices me almost immediately, and her eyes soften as she takes me in.

“What can I do for you, Charlotte?” She asks gingerly behind her black-rimmed glasses that are perched up on her button nose.

Placing the stack of books on the counter, I smile. “Just returning these.”

As she reaches for them, she notices the novel on the top and glances at me with a grin. “How’d you like this one?”

Peering at the title, Woman in White, I immediately feel goosebumps emerge across my skin. “I loved it. The ending was so satisfying.” Her grin mirrors mine as she pulls the stack of books towards her.

“I heard good things about it. I’ll have to read it sometime.” She comments.

Sister Clarice was the sweetest woman at St. Catherine’s. In her early seventies, she barely looked a day over fifty. A nurturer at heart, she always ensured the girls here were being properly taken care of and always made an effort to talk to us. She was like a long-lost grandmother to us all.

“I um… I actually need some help with something.” I rest my elbows on the counter, leaning in a tad bit closer to her.

“What can I help you with?” She asks cheerfully, looking more than happy to help me.

“Do you have any Latin translating books?” I question.

Her head tilts slightly to one side as if she’s trying to think. “If we have anything, it will be on the top rows up there.” She points up near the staircase.

“Thank you, Sister.” I smile, darting off and climbing up the staircase until I’m in the section she pointed to. My eyes skim over the row of books, one after the other. I have a feeling this will take longer than I anticipated. Then suddenly, I catch the word ‘Latin’ on the spine of a book and quickly pull it out.

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