Page 101 of The Sinner: James

She takes my hand and rises to her feet.

I pivot and prop my back against the car before I pull her into my arms.

“It can’t be that bad,” I murmur while she rests her head against my shoulder.

Silently, we stare at the magnificent dance of throbbing lights. The fireflies light up the air with their tiny, evanescent bodies, filling the night with clouds of throbbing glow.

“They look like stars,” she says, her voice clearer.

“Yes, they do. They always did… I used to watch them when I was a kid. They always filled the woods this time of year.”

“Here?”

“Mm-hmm. We used to camp down there by the water.”

“We?”

“Lex, Ed, and me. Sometimes, my dad came with us. That was before my mother left. Occasionally, Lex’s dad joined us while he was still alive. Ed grew up without a father.”

“Whose land is it?”

“It’s mine now.”

“And how was it?”

“Camping was fun. Our dads were cool. They taught us a lot and gave us a lot of freedom, but we didn’t know it then and only realized it later.”

“You have a lot of freedom now.”

“Yeah... I guess. I have more than most people. I have money, and that gives me freedom. I’m not sure it’s absolute freedom, but it’s not bad, and I don’t resent it… What about you? How were you when you grew up? And what’s the story of your name, by the way?”

She ponders for a moment.

“Hmm... It’s not a good story. My parents named my sister after my father, Daryl, but they couldn’t agree on a name when it came to me. They had a few names ready for me, but they also had a fight the night I was born, and my dad left the hospital just as I was coming into this world. My mom got mad at him and chose this name for me. It was a rainy, stormy night, so she called me Rain. When I grew up, she made up a story to make me feel better about her choice. Or maybe she forgot that she was angry with him that night. Regardless… She said she wanted this name for me, hoping I’d be like the rain falling from the sky, rolling on the ground, nourishing the earth, and rising to the sky before falling again, restarting the cycle. ‘Free and resilient,’ she said. It was good thinking, but I’m nothing like that. And to answer your question... I don’t know about freedom because I was born and raised in captivity. I had lots of love but no freedom, and I never thought about it until things started to change.”

A few moments of silence pass.

“Thought about what?” I ask.

“How to be free. I know nothing about it.”

“You’ll learn when you’re ready. Nothing happens before its time.”

She turns to me and drinks me in, a soft smile brightening her eyes.

“I missed you,” she murmurs, locking her arms around my neck.

“I counted on that,” I say, slowly unbuttoning her shorts and sliding my hands inside.

With one smooth motion, I pull her panties and her shorts down.

She walks out of them.

I pick them up and toss them on her seat inside the car.

Grabbing the back of her thighs, I scoop her up and set her on the hood of my ride.

Propped on her back, her knees up, she grips the hem of her tank top, peels it off, and pushes up on her elbows.

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