Page 12 of The Sinner: James

The main door pulls open a few times, and music mixed with voices drifts outside.

A few drunk patrons step out, heading to a couple of town cars waiting outside, clearly moving the party elsewhere.

More limousines pull up in front of the establishment just as the door swings open again, and several men and scantily clad women saunter out.

Tipsy, giggling and clinging to their men, the women stumble a lot, unsteady on their heels, their shrills ripping into the night as they climb into the cars.

The limos pull away, and the street turns quiet again.

Where the fuck is my sister?

I tap my pockets, front and back, searching for my phone, and cold sweat trickles down my neck.

Shit, I don’t have it. I must’ve left it at home.

Irritated, I glance at the time.

It’s one in the morning, and she’s nowhere in sight. I have no phone and nowhere near enough clothes to walk out of the car and ask around.

Besides, I couldn’t get inside the club even with more clothes on.

They just won’t let me in.

Short on ideas, I roll down the window and suck in some fresh air, trying to come up with a solution.

Crisp air rolls over my shoulders, sending a chill down my spine, reminding me that fall is here.

A whiff of smoke wafts from nearby, the scent of freshly cut grass drifting from the ground.

I crane my neck out and swing my gaze over the parking lot. Other than multiple cars sunk in darkness, I see no one.

The pitch black night surrounds me, dark and silent.

Damn you, Daria.

Running my hand over the backseat, I search for something my mom might’ve left behind, like a jacket or something.

A sweater, maybe? Anything to toss over my top. Sadly, I find nothing.

I take a long breath, and against my better judgment, I climb out of the car.

My heart beats faster, my keys rattling in my hand.

Glancing up and down the street, I can’t detect the slightest movement.

Rushed, I leap up the stairs and almost reach the metallic door when the muffled voices drifting from inside render me motionless.

The door swings open as more patrons leave the place.

Swiftly, I pivot to the side, my back crashing into the wall as they walk by me, drunk, noisy, and oblivious.

I ponder whether to try to get inside or just go home.

She must’ve found a ride by now. And knowing her, I wouldn’t be surprised if she forgot about me.

Making up my mind, I spin around to go home, and just as fast, I hit a wall of muscles.

“Ah!!!” I squeal, terrified.

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