Page 34 of A Sinner's Saint

“Santo, you found her, remember? You held her body in your arms. You know it’s her.” I remind him of what I’m sure was the worst night of his life. The night he found his fiancée beaten to death.

“We were going to be parents. I was going to be a father.” Santo glances beside me. I don’t think he’s talking to me. He’s talking to her, the ghost that haunts him.

“Yeah.” I don’t know what to say. I have no fucking idea how to help my brother through this.

Then Santo suddenly slips down into the hole. “You should leave, Vin. This isn’t your problem,” he says.

“Get the fuck out of the hole. And you are my brother. Your problems are my problems.”

“I can’t, Vin. I can’t keep doing this. I’m losing my fucking mind. I died with her. He won. The old man fucking won!” he yells out while tugging at the ends of his hair.

“No, he didn’t. That fucking bastard will not win. I won’t let him,” I grunt before jumping down into the hole with my brother. I press a hand on his shoulder and lean my forehead against his. “I didn’t let him win when he put me in a room, month after month. Nor when he let a bunch of sick fucking assholes use and abuse me time and time again. I’m not going to let him win now either. He will not beat you, Santo. You’re stronger than this.” My words are clogged with emotion.

Santo’s entire body goes rigid before he pulls back to look me dead in the eyes. “What?”

“I won’t let him beat you,” I repeat.

“Not that. What do you mean you were abused?” he asks.

“It doesn’t matter. What matters right now is you and the fact that you are going to get through this,” I tell him.

“It matters to me. What the fuck happened, Vin?” Santo is vibrating with rage. Maybe that’s a good thing. Gives him something else to focus on than his grief.

Gabe knows what happened. Marcel knows what happened too, but I’ve never voiced any of it to a single soul. Even dead, my father scares the shit out of me. “It started when I was eleven. Stopped when I was fourteen,” I explain simply.

I can see the wheels in Santo’s head turning. “Three years? Three fucking years, Vin?”

“He had a house. I wasn’t the only kid to get locked up in those rooms. But I was the only one related tohim. Once a month, the old man took me there. Sometimes I’d be there for an hour. Other times… with other men… Well, they wouldn’t leave until I broke.” I swallow. My throat is dry. I can hear their voices in my head. I can feel the monsters taking over my mind.

“Why didn’t you tell me? Or Gio? Or any of us? We would have never let that fucking happen, Vin,” Santo says.

“I couldn’t… He said if I told any of you, then he’d take you there too. Better me than any of my brothers.” I shrug.

“That wouldn’t have happened. You should have come to us. Fuck!” Santo yells out as he kicks the dirt wall beside us, causing clunks of soil to topple down.

“It’s in the past, Santo. I’ve dealt with it,” I tell him. Movement catches my attention. I quickly turn and find Cammi standing near the tree. She’s within hearing distance, close enough that I can see the horror on her face and the tears wetting her cheeks. “Fuck.”

I reach up and pull myself out of the hole before rushing around to slam the casket closed. “RIP, Shelli,” I whisper to the lid. I shouldn’t hate her. I loved her like a big sister for so long, but knowing what I know now? Seeing my brother’s heart not just break but shatter beyond repair? Well, now I fucking hate her.

I need to talk to Cammi. I don’t know how much of that conversation she overheard. I’m hoping none of it. But my brother needs me. I can’t just leave him here either.

“You know her?” Santo asks while staring in Cammi’s direction.

“Yeah, she’s my girlfriend,” I tell him, not taking my eyes off Cammi.Wasmy girlfriend is probably a better description. If she overheard even a portion of that exchange, no way is she going to stay with me.

“Go home, Vin. I need to clean up here.” Santo sighs.

I shake my head and pull my phone out of my pocket before quickly sending Marcel a message.

Me:

Found him. Shelli’s grave. Get here ASAP. It’s bad.

Marcel:

On my way.

“I’m not leaving you alone,” I tell my brother while pocketing my phone again.

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