Page 106 of The Sinner: James

Maybe she's given up on me.

Footsteps echo outside, trailing from one end of the corridor to the other. A door swings open and closes, and then another one.

She pushes through my bedroom door.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” I say, raising my eyes.

She leans against the doorframe, a hand hidden behind her back, a smirk plastered across her lips.

“Where were you?” she asks cunningly.

My pulse spikes, panic soaring through me.

“Eve’s,” I say evenly.

She walks in, dragging an annoying smile with her. She slams the door shut behind her.

“Does Eve have a dick?” she mocks.

Her arm swings, and a scrap of fabric lands on my shoulder, the scent of James filling my nostrils.

My panties slide off my chest and land on my keyboard.

“What’s this?” I ask, playing dumb. “Oh... Where did you find them?”

“You left them in the bathroom, or perhaps they fell on the floor when you rushed to throw your clothes into the washing machine. Care to explain?”

“Explain what? You’re not my mom.”

“Oh, okay. No problem.” She closes the gap between us and snatches my panties. “I can ask Mom.”

She heads to the door.

“Wait,” I bark.

She stops and spins around to face me. Pacing herself, she nears the bed.

“So, who’s semen is this?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Let me tell you something, sweet little sister. I was doing what you’re doing now when I was sixteen. The friend excuse, the slipping into the bathroom, the frantic rush to erase the evidence from my body and hide the sperm-smeared panties. Playing stupid doesn’t work. Plus, I could help you.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“Really? What about birth control? Are you using any contraception? Or are you just playing it by ear? Is he allergic to condoms? Do you at least know who you’re getting in bed with? You have no fucking idea how to do this stuff, Rain. You just went out there and opened your legs.”

“Oh. Look who’s talking,” I retort, glaring at her.

Another step brings her closer.

She looks at me, her hands locked on her hips.

“I’m not clueless,” she says, searing me with her eyes. “I know what I’m doing. You, on the other hand, believe in stupid shit and trust all sorts of people. Men are not what you think they are. You think they’re some deities who rock your world. They can rock your world, all right, but not in the way you think. And after having enough of you, they turn their backs on you, and off they go to chase some wilted flower they make babies with before going out there, looking to score some more. They don’t need women like you, Rain—women with big dreams and ideas. And you know why? Because it’s tiresome to keep up with some idealistic nymph’s view on men.”

“I’m taking care of it. Don’t worry,” I say curtly, keen to cut her tirade short.

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