Page 30 of Never Die for a Sinner
I hate it when he says my name. Like he knows some shit I don’t.
I blow out a breath between my teeth, willing my composure to slip into place. “We’d get waffle sundaes.”
“Can’t say I’ve heard of those before. What are they? Ice cream and waffles?”
“Yeah, with shit—stuffsprinkled on top.”
“It’s perfectly fine to curse in here. I’m a grown man with three teenage boys. I can assure you, I can handle it.” He scribbles something else down in his pad, and I fucking hate it that he’s taking notes on me. “And why was this the happiest time for you?”
That one’s easy.
“Got to spend time with Mom without everyone else.”
“I see. You wrote in your onboarding packet that your mother passed when you were sixteen. I’m very sorry to hear that.”
Something is humming in the room, and it’s starting to annoy the fuck out of me. Proctor and I sit in silence for a moment before I blurt it out.
“Twelve.”
“I’m sorry?”
I suck in a deep breath. “I was twelve when she died.”
“My mistake, you’re correct. That’s a young age to lose one’s mother. Can you tell me how she passed?”
The trickling irritation that had been slowly festering in my blood finally flares up, and before I can stop myself, I snap.
“My brother murdered her and burned the family cabin down with her in it because my father put him up to it.”
Proctor pauses, and I think for probably the first time in his career, he’s at a loss for words.
Good. Teach the fucker to write notes about me.
“So, yeah. I guess you could say it was hard,” I murmur, tugging the collar of my hoodie away from my neck. Why the fuck is this room so stuffy?
Proctor is quiet for a long time before he scribbles something else down in his pad. Probably some bullshit about how fucked in the head I am.
“And was law enforcement ever involved?”
“Only after the fucker was dead.”
Proctor nods, taking off his glasses and setting them down in his lap.
“And when was that?”
Here we go.
“Two months ago.”
Proctor nods like he’s got it all figured out. Fucker doesn’t know anything about that night, and neither does anyone else.
Only Christian, Sebastian, and I really know what went down that night, and well . . . one of us is dead.
“I think what you’re feeling is entirely valid. To go through so much at the hands of a family member is unspeakable. But . . . you aren’t telling me what happened toyou, just the facts of what your family went through. I won’t push you more on it today, but I think it’s important to remember why you’re here.”
“Because it was either this or the DEA would send me to prison?”
“No,” Proctor corrects. Bullshit, we both know that’s the only reason I’m here. “To clear your mind of the guilt that’s holding you back.”
