Page 1 of Sinners & Saints (Sinners & Saints)

ONE

My brother killedhimself because of me. He never said as much out loud, but there’s only so many times you can pick at someone before they shatter. Before love sours into resentment. Before they hate so much, it kills them—and Hale hated me, right up until the end.

I deserved it.

That’s what kills most about his suicide. I nagged him. I shunned him. I turned my back as our father ostracized him. And there’s really only one way to atone for the sins I’ve committed.

I deserve to die, just as he did.

In the days leading up to this moment, I convinced myself it would be easy. I would leave early under the pretense of working the morning shift at the soup kitchen. Instead, I’d take the longer path through the outskirts of the city, where Springer Bridge serves as the entrance to one of the municipal parks. The area is all but deserted this time of day.

There’s no one to watch me climb over this metal rail and let go.

A simple theory on paper but far harder to put into practice. I didn’t account for the guilt or the anxiety weighing on my chest to the point it hurts to breathe. I startle at every sound to break the quiet, and I’m just praying the sun doesn’t fully rise before I gather up the nerve to…

Do it. Jump. Can I even climb over the rail? My legs are shaking, and I keep fiddling with the golden cross around my neck. It was my grandmother’s.Suicide is a sin,she used to say.Jesus died for you, and to sin is to forsake that gift.

At least she isn’t alive to see me now. Jesus wasted his gift on me. My sins can’t be paid for, not after what I’ve done.

Nothing drills that in more than the cell phone persistently buzzing against my palm. Each incoming message is a glaring reminder of the few options I have left.

We’re meant to be,Colton wrote, the first in a series of texts.It’s never too late to be saved, Frances. I forgive you.

Of course, he does. Every member of Covenant wholly believes salvation lurks within the walls of the church. Forgiveness should come as easily as breathing.Unlessyou’re my mother, or Hale, or anyone else bold enough to step a toe out of line.

Then you’re damned to Hell. Like me too, I guess. At least I won’t be alone.

With a sigh, I tear my gaze from the screen and look down. Instantly, a little more of my bravery peels away. I’m so high up. The hem of my sweater ripples in the wind, disrupting my view of the waters below. Ironically, it’s one of the last things Hale ever bought me.Before the anger. The hate. The lies.

God, the fabric still smells like him. I inhale deeply, chasing traces of him amongst the stench of the bay. My eyes burn, but blinking doesn’t stop the tears. They stream endlessly as my cell phone screen ignites with another message.

Where are you?It’s Father. Colton says you haven’t checked in yet.

More guilt seeps in, going to war with my fragile resolve. Rather than reply, I shove the device into my pocket. Then I push everyone from my brain buthim. I try to recall his face or his voice… I’d give anything to see him again.

Anything.

It seems God, however, has chosen a crueler punishment for me than death—endless grief. Despite how hard I cling to this cross, Hale is still gone. After a million prayers, the pain slicing through my heart hasn’t eased. Desperate, I close my eyes and reach out with my other hand...

That was another thing Granny told me—If you trust your faith, you can accomplish anything, Frances.

As my fingers tremble in the frigid air, grasping nothing, I can’t escape the dark thoughts haunting me since the day Hale died.You love him so much, huh? But you barely remember him.

It’s true. Three months, and almost every trace of my older brother, is a blurred smear on my psychebutthat night. The one when I found his body slumped against an embroidered chaise, a needle in his arm and a cigarette smoking in a crystal ashtray resting by his side. Even now, I close my eyes and still see him—a pale body so gaunt and lifeless it could have been a stranger’s. Not handsome, cocky Hale with eyes so blue they rivaled the sky.

All that remains of him are the two things he left for me to find, both of which are in my pocket. I open my eyes and withdraw them—the first is a crumpled flyer for Covenant’s Salvation program, Father’s crowning glory. In essence, it’s a charity. Through it, he’s been able to use his ample resources to help many of the city’s poor, and most in the church, myself included, have volunteered there.

Only, in the final weeks of his life, Hale called it a scam. At the time, I thought he was being too cynical. Through Salvation, the homeless were provided with three hot meals daily, and the disenfranchised were assisted with finding employment. Father could be overbearing, but he only wanted to uphold the tenants of our faith. In the end, though, Hale turned his back on that too. I still don’t know why he hated us so much. Our father. Or me.

Beside this flyer, he left an equally-battered empty pack of cigarettes with a doodle etched on the back in ink. My heart pangs as I trace the jagged lines that make up the visage of a skull with angel wings. It’s morbid but stunning in its detail—a sign of how far from the righteous path he’d strayed, yet he didn’t seem ashamed of his fall from grace. Maybe he needed to break away from Father’s control in the end. Unlike me, he had real talent, destined for more than volunteer work.

I think that’s why he left these two things behind. To tell me in the only way he knew how,This is what you drove me to, Frey. This is what I became because of you. A monster. Our father’s strict, perfect world never fit him, and the only outlet he had was through cigarettes, booze, and drugs.

And death.

I choke back the memory—but nothing erases the image of him, his eyes empty and staring.

Not scripture.

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