Page 1 of A Sinner's Saint

Chapter One

My whole body is trembling. I try to fight it… the fear. They like it more when I’m scared. The sick fucks get off on it. I tried so hard this month. I thought if I was good, if I did everything right just like my father wanted, then he wouldn’t bring me here. He wouldn’t make me do this. He wouldn’t let these men do…this…to me.

It didn’t work. It doesn’t matter how good I am, because I will never be enough. That’s why he brings me here. Because I deserve the punishment.

When the door opens, the masked men walk in. They always wear masks. I have no idea who they are. All I know is that they want to use my body for their own sick pleasure. And if I scream, they leave quicker. Because they like it…

I’ve seen this one before. I recognise the skull tattoo on his hand. He has a Russian accent too. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I used to fight back. But they’re too many of them and they’re all stronger than I am. Which means it only hurts more.

The door closes with a loud bang and I jump. I can’t help it. As tough as I want to be, I’m not. I’m nothing but weak. A fucking kid. I have no doubt that I’ll die in this room one day. At least it’s me and not my brothers, not that my father would dare bring any of the others here.

No, he saves this torture for me. He says I deserve it. I’m the reason he had to kill my mother. I don’t understand how. I was only a few months old when he shot her in the head—or at least that’s what I’ve been told. I don’t remember her. I have wondered if she did something bad, if it’s her fault I am the way I am. The kind of son who is subjected to this by his own father.

The man is close now…

My body shakes. I can’t stop it. I don’t want this. I don’t like it, and there’s nothing I can do about it. Sometimes they give me something. A pill. I like the pills, because they make me not think. I’m numb when I get the pills.

Not this man, though. He likes me aware. He wants me to scream. I shake my head, and then his hand snaps out, wrapping around my throat so tight I can’t breathe. My feet lift off the floor. His breath stinks of cigarette and alcohol.

“Did you just tell me no, boy?” the man sneers with that same thick Russian accent.

I can’t move. I can’t shake my head or nod. I can’t say anything. Maybe this is it. The end. I’d welcome it. At least I might get some peace, because I know for sure I’m not going to the same place in hell these fuckers are spiralling towards.

My body falls to the floor when he releases me. I scramble to my feet, trying to get up, but I don’t make it. The man forces me onto my stomach. He holds me down with one hand while the other slams onto my ass. Hard. I scream out in pain and he laughs.

I can already tell this isn’t going to be a quick night. He’s going to drag it out. And then I feel it… the tip of his cock at my ass.

“No!” I cry out.

I jolt up, the room dark and my body completely covered in sweat. My shaky hands reach out and flick on the bedside lamp. I’m alone.

Fuck, I hate these nightmares. It’s still dark out, too early to get up, but I need to. I need to move.

I climb off the bed and pull on a pair of sweatpants, then pick up a shirt from my floor and bring it to my nose. I discard that one and go for another. As soon as I’m dressed, I head for my closet, where I grab the little metal box that contains the one thing that’ll help me erase the memories.

I’m quiet as I walk out of my room. The last thing I need is to run into one of my brothers right now. I’m the youngest of four,and ever since my eldest brother finally put a hole in our father’s head, my siblings have really upped the wholeoverprotectivevibe.

Thankfully, Gio is a little preoccupied with his new girlfriend. I like Eloise. Not sure why. There’s just something about her that’s very maternal. Not that I know much about that either. And then there’s Santo. I don’t even know what to say about that one right now. He found his fiancée murdered, at the hands of our father, on the night before the wedding. It’s fucked him up completely. I think he might even be more fucked up than I am, and that’s saying something.

Gabe is the peacemaker of the family, the fixer. He’s stepped up since Santo isn’t himself right now, but he takes the whole fixing shit to the next level. There isn’t a problem any of us has that he doesn’t want to take on. Oh, and he’s also hiding his relationship with one of Eloise’s friends. Clearly, he’s shit at hiding it, because I’m pretty sure everyone knows.

Marcel, the one who’s closest to me in age, is mostly absent. He’s at university and seems to take his studies seriously. Don’t get me wrong. He’s here when he needs to be, but if he’s not needed, he usually finds a reason to be out. Not that I blame him.

Things are fucking weird in this house. For the first time in my life—well, that I can remember anyway—we have a female living with us. One who’s not part of the staff. Eloise moved in, and it’s as if she’s taken over the entire family. I wouldn’t be surprised if she starts calling all the shots soon. My big brother is a lovesick puppy around her. Actually, even when Gio’s not around her, he’s fucking pining for her.

Like I said, I love Eloise. She’s brought something that we haven’t ever had. She’s making this place a home, and not just a cold-ass museum. And furniture. Thank fuck. Gio had this thing. He wouldn’t furnish the house until he could get El to agree to move in. He wanted her to pick it all out.

Stepping onto the back porch, I nod at one of the soldiers standing guard. “Long night?” he asks me.

“Something like that.” I sink to the floor, lean my back up against the wall, and open my little metal box. I pull out an already-rolled joint and a lighter and snap the lid closed.

“Have a good day,” the guy says before walking away.

I haven’t taken the time to learn all their names. I don’t see the point. They don’t work for me. They also all know I smoke. I think everyone does, except Gio. If he did, he’d probably kick my ass. My brothers are anti-drugs. I could easily go and help myself to a bottle of Cinque, the whiskey blend we all own a share of. But light up some of nature’s best buds, and it’s a fucking problem.

It’s a fucking double standard is what it is. They really don’t understand.I need this.

I shove the blunt into my mouth and use my hand to block the wind as I light the opposite end. Inhaling deep, I hold the smoke in my lungs for as long as I can before blowing it out. After just one hit on this thing, I can already feel my heartbeat calming down.

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