Page 30 of Sinful

“Then positive thinking. Let the darkness belongto usand the night. For now, focus on being better and not doubting shit about yourself. You’re a survivor, so fucking live, Sinclair. Don’t do it for the watchers. For Sirena. Do it for you because you deserve it just as much as the next crazy fuck. Got it?”

“Yeah,” he answered thickly, getting to his feet. “Yeah. I mean, fuck. I’ll try.”

“It’s all we can do. I need a nap. My head hurts.”

“Will you be OK here?”

“I’ve been here a long time. A little longer won’t kill me.”

“Where do you go when you’re. . . gone?”

“Always working.” I sighed. “Building a better life. Making points of contact. Taking down the man.”

He stared me down for a moment before nodding, obviously deciding to not pursue questioning me. “I’ll bring the propane and another heater. They’re calling for at least a foot of snow. I’ll try to get it back to you before it starts coming down hard.”

I waved him off. “Don’t kill yourself over it. Worse comes to worse, I’ll blanket off one of those smaller rooms and take the heater in there. I’ll be fine. I’ve spent a fair number of winters here.”

He nodded and walked to the door.

“Hey, Sinclair?”

“Yeah?” He looked at me from over his shoulder.

“Tell Asylum he owes me fifty bucks.”

“Can’t you just dial him up in your head and tell him?”

I smiled at him. “I’d rather you get to see his face when you tell him.”

He chuckled and shrugged before leaving me alone in the cave with nothing but silence in my head.

I couldn’t ask for a more perfect evening.

Well, unless it included my Rinny.

But I’d get there. Eventually.

I smiled at that.

One. Two. I’m coming for you. Three. Four. You’ll scream some more.

In fact, many would by the time we were done.

What a sweet nightmare that would be.

SIRENA

Iexhaled. Inhaled. Exhaled. Inhaled.

A wave of dizziness came over me before slowly dissipating.

I was OK, and I wanted to live my life.

It had been far too long. The days kept weaving onward, and yet nothing was getting better. All I knew was that to get better, I had to be better.

Staying in that damn bed and staring at the ceiling wasn’t fixing my problems. Being weak wasn’t fixing them.

Something dark and angry was coming over me, and I was tired of pushing it off the last few weeks. Maybe I needed to get mad. Maybe it would fix things and put me in charge for once in my life.

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