Page 1 of Never Die for a Sinner
Worthless. . .
My knuckles turn white from gripping the porcelain sink in front of me so hard.
Pathetic . . .
My hands shake—the empty bottle beside me a testament to my fading self-control.
Trash . . .
My eyes snap up to meet themselves in the mirror. The ice-blue is dull, rimmed in red from a lack of sleep.
It’s been three days since I’ve slept through the night. Three days of torture from my mind that doesn’t let me rest.
I fucking hate myself. I hate the voices in my head.
I hate the taste of whiskey, and I hate that I can’t live without it.
I hate thathe’s still here. Still alive, clinging to his useless corpse in my mother’s house.
I grab for the bottle, reminded that it’s empty, while I stare at my own reflection.
The same eyes that stare back at me belong tohim.
I fucking hate them. I hate myself for looking like him.
I hate that I can’t get the voices out of my head.His voicereminding me how worthless I am. Reminding me I’ll never be more than what he’s reduced me to.
Mostly, I hate that I’m out of whiskey.
In my sleep-deprived mind’s eye, I don’t see my face anymore. I see his. The same black hair. The same darkness hidden in blue eyes. The same monster.
In a flash, my fist snaps out, the glass slicing my skin as the broken shards rain down into the sink and over the rough cabin floor beneath me.
Seeing my broken reflection somehow offers a calming clarity that I wasn’t prepared for.
The pain in my knuckles barely registers while my mind goes blank of all things except how to end this.
The same man who took my mother, my brother . . . Who almost took my entire fucking family from me, is alive in the same house whereshesleeps.
The ghost that lives across the hall . . .
I won’t let him try to take her, too.
And suddenly . . . the voices stop.
LEVI
It’s with great sadness that we say goodbye to our dear old friend. A father . . . a husband . . .”
I fucking hate funerals.
Especially the cheap imitation of one.
My father’s casket lies over a hole beside my mother, though if I had my choice, he would have been tossed into the ocean. The bastard doesn’t deserve to spend eternity next to her.
I stand at the back of the crowd gathered around, listening to my sister and my aunt grieve a man who didn’t give a damn about anyone but himself. The rain sprinkles down overhead,covering everything in a fresh coat of moisture, but I’m past caring.
I’ve waited for this day my entire life, only now that it’s here, I’m finding I don’t feel the retribution I had hoped for.
