Page 1 of Entombed In Sin

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BEATRIX

I've been sleeping.

That much I know. As I blink my bathroom into focus, I try to process what exactly I am doing standing naked in front of Thatcher. My stepbrother is naked too. But why? He says something to me. I nod automatically, but whatever was said is just a garbled mess. My head throbs and my hands hurt. What is going on? Why am I here with him? His fingers wrap around my wrist to draw me closer to his body. When I'm close enough, he wraps his arms around my shoulders and holds me.Hugsme.

What …?

Currently, you reside six feet under

There was a letter. I remember that.

There’s a camera buried with you.

They were watching me—all three of them—while I…

Put on a show of a lifetime, and we may just let you out.

Visions of being stuck in a coffin, of losing and regaining consciousness over and over as the air became sparse, emerge like the bubbles in boiling water. Tears spring to my eyes and terror causes my body to stiffen.

“Y-you tried to kill me,” I rasp out as memories start to roil across my consciousness.

“No one was trying to kill you, or you’d be dead,” Thatcher promises. “Knox was trying to scare you. That’s how punishments work. You’ve learned never to spy on anyone again, now haven’t you?”

Thatwas a punishment? That’s what they’ll do to me each time I break a rule? Or will it be worse? What can I expect next time? Iknowthere will be a next time. Three rules hold these three together. I’ve just discovered one of them, now I have two more to find out the hard way.

Oh god, I won’t survive playing their games. Why did I agree to this? They're insane if they think I can endure two more rounds of messing around and finding out when it comes to their rules. A heavy sob shakes my body. I try to pull away from Thatcher, but he holds me close.

“Get off of me,” I cry out weakly as tears spill down my face. “You’re all monsters.”

“That might be true, but we’re monsters that care about one another,” Thatcher admits. “We’re together so much that privacy is almost nonexistent in our world. But to keep our sanity, it’s necessary to give each other a safe space. That’s why we let you keep your room, you know. Otherwise, you’d be passed between me and Sagan every night.”

I sob louder. Who cares about their stupid rules?

“Shh, there, there. Remember, punishments aren’t supposed to be fun,” he murmurs into my ear. “Try to relax.”

Relax? They buried mealive …I choke on a cry of rage only to find my throat raw and swollen. Probably from all the screaming when I realized no one was coming for me. Thatcher steps back but tsks in disapproval. I’m not sure what I’ve done wrong until he lifts one of my hands. It's then that I notice the damage I've done to them. All that desperate, instinctual clawing has left the tips of my fingers a bloody, ragged mess.

“I see I have to remind Knox that we shouldn’t play as rough with our little sister as we do with each other, don’t I?” Thatcher murmurs.

He takes my chin with his other hand and tilts my head up. I expect to see the ugliness of his soul shining back at me now that I’ve had a brush with death, or at the very least, a cruel, mocking smile on his face like his father would wear. Instead, the concern etched into his sharp features deepens. I don’t trust it.

“Youhelped him. I saw the note!” I try to pull away from Thatcher again, but he doesn’t let me go. His grip tightens on my chin and wrist, holding me in place.

“I don’t know anything about a note, Beatrix. Given that your transgression was with Knox, we allowed him to figure out your punishment. So, if he wrote something and included our names, it’s because we’re a family unit.Notbecause we were involved,” Thatcher corrects lightly, despite his hard grip. “He went a bit too far, but hopefully you'll forgive him. It was his first time dishing out a punishment of his own, and apparently, he was a bit overzealous.”

All the fight drains out of me as I stare up into his steady, sincere gaze. Maybe… Maybe Thatcher hadn’t tried to kill me? No, that can’t be right. Isawthe note. They were involved and these three do everything together. Of course, they knew what hewas doing… right? I stare up into Thatcher’s face and can’t tell if the earnestness in his dual colored eyes can be trusted.

What I know forcertainis that Knox is going to pay for this. Other than that, I don’t know what to think. And quite frankly, I don’t have the energy to do much of it in the first place. My body is leaden, and a heavy fog is beginning to descend over my consciousness. My tears cease as the world slows. It feels like there’s a disconnect between me and reality, like I’m living a dream. Maybe I’m still in that coffin, suffocating to death. Will I wake up in a panic at any moment to find myself in the dimly lit, narrow coffin just like the other times between dreams? Or is this the finale?

When Thatcher lets go of my wrist and chin, I nod. I don’t know why. Thatcher says something else, and again I nod, but I don’t know what he’s said. He has to turn me around himself when I don't move.

“Let me help you take your hair down.”

Did I just hear him right? He wants to play with my hair? Suddenly, Thatcher’s fingers are unraveling one of my braids. Something must be getting lost in translation. Why would he want to do this? And why am I letting him? I should be running fast and far from these guys. Yet my limbs feel weighted, and my thoughts are just mush. So, I stand there just trying to stay conscious and allow Thatcher to unravel the second braid without a word. When my curls are free, he gently scrapes his nails along my scalp.

I let out a soft sigh.

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