Page 51 of Holy Sinner

My mother’s voice is shrill in my ears. It’s like the sound of blade against flint, that kind of sharpness that makes you shiver and rub your arms because it sets you on edge. I wrap my arms around myself and try not to let her take me apart when she looks my way. It’s not easy and when she does look at me, I sway on my feet as easily as if she punched me. I can see the disgust there shining bright.

“Nothing. I promise.”

“Really? Because this doesn’t look like nothing. You really have me out here cleaning up your fucking mess.”

She turns and narrows her eyes at me, her beautiful face twisting with rage as she leans forward. “I should leave you here to clean this up. I should let them find out what you did with him.”

“Please no.” My heart races and I feel sick but I don’t let myself puke. I did that already when I realized…when I realized that there was no going back from what had happened.

“Please don’t leave me.”

We stare at each other for a moment and I hate that she looks perfect. Flawless makeup, impossibly perfect with her perfectly done hair and just pressed pantsuit. She looks like she always does to me, classy, impeccably put together and altogether ruthless. In comparison, I look half formed, childish even, with my sad prom dress ripped on the side. A strap dangles down my arm and my palms and knees are scraped. My bones ache and I wish I could get clean, that I could just take a hot shower and scrub this night off of me but I know that’s not going to happen for a long while yet. I’m stuck where I am, dirty and feeling smaller than a bug with my mom looking down her nose at me.

I don’t want to look in a mirror and see my makeup. I bet it’s smeared and sliding down my face from the tears. The way my mother tsk’s and looks me over tells me I’m right.

“You’re an embarrassment, Kit. You can’t even do this right. How hard is it for you to be fucking normal?” she asks and throws her hands at her sides. “I tried to stop you tonight but you wouldn’t listen. You just fucking had to be right.” She sneers and I know she’s loading up the killshot. I want to get away from her but I can’t, I need her help. So I stay right where I am, feet planted and let her take aim at me.

“How could a boy like him want someone like you? You’re trash. Worthless trash and nobody is ever going to love you.”

Direct hit as usual. It’s an old routine between us. I hate that it still hurts.

“Stop it.”

“You’re never going to have a family. There will never be a man that wants to come home to you because you’re not right. There’s something fucking wrong with you, Kit.”

“Stop it!” I scream at her and she goes silent with a smile on her face because this is the version of me she loves the most. Out of control, powerless, a wreck that she can manipulate and destroy at will.

It won’t stay this way. It can’t. I take in a deep breath and then another as my eyes go to the sliding door that leads out into the backyard of the house. I haven’t been out there because this isn’t my house but I know that’s where we have to go.

“Let’s get this over with,” I tell my mother and lift my head before I lead her out into the backyard.

Chapter Twenty-Six

KIT

PRESENT DAY

Rafe and Grant are whispering in the other room. Well, not whispering but they’re definitely talking in hushed voices so that I don’t know what they’re saying. I chew on my fingernails and lay on my side, watching the door to the bedroom. It’s ajar, just an inch or so. The light from the kitchen spills into the bedroom and the golden glow cuts into the pale morning light that’s slowly filtering into the room.

It’s been maybe twenty minutes since I got out of the bath clean. Grant dressed me and carried me into the bedroom. My hair is wet and sticks to my neck and the pillow I’m laying on. I should have gotten a towel to dry my hair but I wasn’t thinking about it. I’m wearing Grant’s shirt and a pair of his boxers. I reach down and pull up the waistband of his boxers from where they’ve slipped down my thighs. The second Grant put me in bed, he turned out the light and told me to get some rest. He’s been in the other room with Rafe ever since. I watch the kitchen light and strain my ears to listen to what my men are saying.

I’ve only been able to pick out a word here and there.

“Murder” and “Who?” Have definitely been words that I’ve picked out, along with my name and the police. Overall, not a great sampling of words to hear but what can you do about it? My mind has been running rampant, the dark in front of me and the slowly vanishing shadows have swirled and moved until I think my eyes are playing tricks on me and I’m not sure what’s a shadow and what’s memory.

I roll onto my side and look at the window that I thought I climbed out of. It doesn’t open, not the way it did in my dream. It’s a floor to ceiling window, more wall than anything else, it doesn’t open at all. I tug the blankets around myself and bury my face in my damp pillow. When I close my eyes I see the woman with a shadow for a face and my body goes cold. I used to sleepwalk when I was a child but it stopped when my mother sent me to therapy. The only real memories I have from sleepwalking are waking up with dirt on my feet or the couple of times I woke up in the backyard.

Nothing ever came of those times. Not like tonight when the world seemed to shift on its side and I woke up falling on my face on the bloody ground and screaming. I take in a steadying breath and let it out before I do it again and I listen.

The gentle murmur of Rafe and Grant talking dies down and I hear a knock at the door. My eyes snap open and I sit up in bed. Who is here?

I hear someone enter the cabin but then it goes quiet for a beat before the deep sound of an unfamiliar voice starts talking. I can’t read the tone but it’s loud, someone speaking matter-of-factly and not accustomed to keeping their voices down. They stop and I hear Rafe, his voice is sharp and hard. Silence comes and then Grant speaks quietly before the door opens and closes again. The person is gone from the sound of their feet on the porch.

I’m still sitting in bed when Rafe comes to the door and opens it. “Who was that?” I whisper.

“The police.”

“Oh my god.”

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