Page 58 of The Secrets of a Sin

“Who did you talk to? Detective Pierce?”

Scoffing, he turns down the road that's the opposite direction of the school. “Fuck no. He wouldn’t have given me any answers-Besides, he wasn’t even there. I was talking to some dip shit cop who gave me all the information I needed to know, including his address.” He pulls out a piece of paper from his pocket and hands it over to me.

Oh my god.

Was he seriously planning on driving to his house and confronting him? I immediately know it's a terrible idea and start to shake my head profusely. “Arsen, we can’t just show up at his house like that.” I try to talk some sense into him, but to do that, he’d have to be listening.

All that's floating inside his head right now is vengeance.

“It’s time for some fucking answers, Charlotte. I’m tired of waiting. I’m tired of her death being pushed under the rug.” He snaps. “This man. Your teacher. He has everything I need, and I don’t care if it means disrupting his family as I break down his front door.” My breathing falters as his eyes remain locked onto the road. “He knocked Phoebe up. A forty-year-old man and my eighteen-year-old sister, who’s now dead. I think it’s time for him to atone for his fucking actions.”

19

ARSEN

I pound on the door with everything I have till my fist burns, and Charlotte tries to calm me.

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

I let the obnoxious sound vibrate through the home until a distinct voice screams. “I’m coming, dammit!” As soon as I hear footsteps, I prepare for what I’ve been dying to do. I put my arms at my sides, and when the door starts to open, I bring up my fist. I rear back before I can even get a decent view of his fucking face and slam my knuckles directly onto the spot between both of his eyes. My fist immediately flares in pain as our bones mash, but nothing could compare to the fiery frenzy that's devouring me whole right now. I wasn’t focusing clearly as my mind was scattered with a million and one ideas with what I would do once I found out who murdered my sister. It was almost too good to be true that he was standing directly in front of us without so much of an inkling of who I was or why I was there.

“You mother fucker!” I snarl as his hands now conceal his face, and his form slightly capsizes. I want to see his face, see the same eyes that Phoebe stared into before she was brutally executed by the man she thought loved her. My rage only grows as I take in his peppered hair and the photo of a small boy hanging on the wall to the right of him.

This twisted fuck has kids.

I almost forget Charlotte is with me when I feel her small fingers circle around my arm in desperation, but even she can’t calm the deadly storm brewing within me.

“Who the hell are you?” He shouts frantically, placing a palm on the wall to steady himself as the right side of his face becomes visible.

Pulling myself out of Charlotte’s grip, I step further into the house with a frenetic beat to my heart. His one eye studies me almost too thoroughly that it starts to make my stomach churn violently with the need to eliminate his ability to see. After everything he did, blinding him wouldn’t come close to what the man deserves. “Who the hell am I?” I chuckle in a dark growl. “Who the fuck were you to my goddamn sister?”

Then, he suddenly notices that Charlotte is behind me as he peers over my shoulder with bewilderment across his face. Instantly, everything inside me blackens to the point I’m charging towards him again with wild eyes and deadly intent. His eyes widen, and he brings both palms up to cover his face in surrender.

“Keep your eyes on me, asshole.” I shout, knowing I’d lose all my sanity if he looked at Charlotte again.

“Look, I don’t know who you are or what the hell you’re talking about.”

With his hands now out in front of him, I can finally get a good look at his face. With a large bruise now forming directly above the bridge of his nose, he’s otherwise a normal-looking older man. Longish peppered hair, dark eyes, tanned skin, and a distinct mole above his eyebrow. I could understand why the students would fawn over him, but why the fuck would Phoebe choose him? He was married with kids, and I couldn’t for the life of me understand what the hell she had been thinking.

“You were her teacher, you sick fuck. Not to mention a teacher at a school for young, unstable girls who don’t need forty-year-old married men preying on them and filling their head with ideas.”

The color drains from his face, turning a ghostly shade of white that appears almost translucent. “Arsen?” He questions in a shaky voice.

Stepping forward again, I tilt my head and meet his troubled stare. “Yah, I’m Arsen, Phoebe’s brother, and if you don’t tell me exactly what you did to her, I’m going to smash your skull into the fucking wall so hard no one will be able to recognize who you are once I’m done.”

The air shifts almost immediately, and I blatantly notice the goosebumps that cover his body. He shakes his head repeatedly, and what looks to be tears start to fill his eyes.

“I didn’t kill Phoebe.” He continues to shake. “You don’t understand. I was in love with her.” He pleads while raking a hand through the top of his scalp.

“How could you be in love with her when you’re married with kids and twice her age?” I snarl, letting whatever rage take over and consume me. Soon, I’d be at the point of no return. Once it fully gains all control of my actions and emotions, prepare for destruction.

“I never meant for it to happen.” He says as if it’ll make his actions forgivable. “And when it did, we were both too consumed to let each other go.”

Closing the distance between us, I reach for the collar of his shirt and yank hard. “Well, it did happen, and now Phoebe’s fucking dead.” I glare into his cowardly eyes that only spur me further. “And I know you had something to do with it.”

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