Page 1 of Sinful Scars

1

LEV

Sometimes,I forget that I’m not a ghost. I’m so used to hiding in the shadows, being lookedthroughinstead ofat,that it makes it easy to forget that I’m a living, breathing human with blood running through my veins and a heart beating in my chest.

Especially when I spent most of my life being treated like I was nothing more than dirt on the bottom of my father’s shoe.

Being raised by Igor Ivanov is a hell I wouldn’t wish upon my worst enemy.

I used to tell myself he treated me that way to toughen me up, to make me into a man, but in reality, I knew it was because he wanted to punish me.

For what, I have no idea.

I made the mistake of asking once, and it earned me a fractured jaw, so I learned the hard way to keep my mouth shut.

Whatever I did must have been bad because he never once treated my brother and sister the same way. They werenever locked in the dark for days on end without food or beaten to within an inch of their lives merely for existing.

Those punishments were saved just for me.

To live is to feel pain. But at some point, your body becomes so numbed by it all that you wonder if you’ll ever feel anything again. If you even want to.

But when I saw her again for the first time after two years, it was like I was brought back to life.

Elle.

When darkness surrounds me, it’s the memory of her laugh that keeps me sane, her green eyes in my dreams.

I used to be haunted by demons, but now I’m haunted by her.

She leaves the hospital and heads in the opposite direction to the subway station.

I have to follow her.

This city is full of predators who would mistake one smile from Elle as a green light to spend the night trying to coerce her into god-knows-what, and she’s too polite to push back.

It was a complete accident that Elle ended up back in my life after all this time.

Two years ago today, I ran into her,literally.

We collided on the stairs leading down to the subway station, and I knew right away that it was her.

Her hair fell in front of her face as she mumbled an apology, clearly embarrassed by our interaction, and rushed down the stairs toward the waiting subway.

It took less than a second for me to decide to follow her.

I convinced myself it was because I felt protective of her, considering all that she had been through.

And that is what still has me following her every day and every night.

I follow her to the hospital where she works as a nurse, and I wait outside until she finishes her shift. I keep telling myself it’s only because I want to keep an eye on her as she makes her way back to her apartment.

She works such long shifts at the hospital that she looks like a ghost by the time she leaves.

Seeing her so exhausted makes me anxious, especially when she’s walking home at all hours of the night.

Though part of it is of her own doing. She chooses to pick up extra shifts at the hospital, leaving her so exhausted by the time she gets home that she likely passes out.

It’s almost as if she’s running from something…

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