Page 52 of Forgive Me For I Have Sinned

Charles Devlin adopted Veronica because she isn't his biologically, so that means she is no different than Prey. Only children fathered by a man born into the Order are members automatically and the ones that are not mentally stable attend here. The question is, what is her mental instability that was strategically put in place to be accepted here as the heir of the Devlin estate? It had to be manifested. She has to see a doctor on the fourth floor to be screened. Dr. Wick is the only shady bitch that's heartless enough to have medical notes of her patients’ progress, offering band-aids to the problem Veronica would have.

I sit back in the uncomfortable wooden chair, scanning the gold spines before me. She's Prey, I think to myself. Prey chooses. I read that she was enslaved as Prey and she must have gotten the mark when initiated. I close my eyes, trying to remember what she said in the shower. Her gaze lingered on the claw-footed bathtub. That same fearful expression returned in the boardroom. She didn't have the mark when she chose. She chose me that night at the initiation party.

The spine of a book with three words in Latin catches my attention, Praeda Litatio Captura. They all mean Prey in Latin. I know that because my grandfather made sure I learned Latin. Turning its pages, dread tightens my gut at the sight of the mark––the same one I saw on the back of her neck. I turn the page, and I want to throw up. Disturbing images fill the pages, depicting ritualistic horror. Illustrations of a woman standing in a Victorian-era bathtub with men around her. They have whips, and she's naked. Do you have a shower? The way she looked at the claw foot bathtub. It was the same look I saw in the boardroom. Fear.

The bottom of the picture reads Peccator (Sinner) Rituale (Ritual). Not being able to read more, I close the book like it's the Antichrist. I slide my chair back with force, causing it to fall back, wanting to kill them all, but knowing I can't. There’s more of them and not enough of us. The Consortium knows there are sick bastards at the top, but this is some archaic sick shit that they have done to her.

I pinch the bridge of my nose and close my eyes. Oh, baby. I'm so sorry.

I need to get her out of Charles Devlin's house. He delivered her on a platter because of his bitterness. His hate. The purpose behind all of it, is for her to find the realization that she is fundamentally animalistic, repulsive, and putrid. Unworthy. Cleansing herself under the pretense of abuse and repeating the same thing over and over until ultimately, she gives up.

I look around and place the book back on the shelf, knowing I can't come back. They will know because someone is always watching and you can't trust anyone. I'm walking out to my car and dial Portman.

* * *

"Is this a new thing?" I look up from the menu when I hear her voice. "Spying on me while I work?"

My gaze returns to the menu. "I'm here for a cookie and cream milkshake. I liked it the last time I was here."

She shakes her head and writes it down. "Anything else I can get you?"

"Yeah, when can I take you out on a date?"

She takes the menu from my hands, and I meet her clear blue eyes when she says, "I think we're past that."

I shake my head. "I don't think so…no…not at all. Have you ever been on one?"

I watch her swallow when she looks out the window with an expression between doubt and uncertainty for a few seconds. "No," she finally says.

"Me either. It will be both our first time then."

Her gaze shifts to mine. "Why?"

"Because I never got the opportunity to ask you."

"I think that ship has long since sailed. You don't need to take me on a date or go through all the trouble. Under the circumstances, I'm a sure thing."

"See…that's the thing. It's not what I want."

She places the ticket on the table. "Stop it…stop playing games with me." Her eyes get glassy. My stomach turns into knots because I'm not playing a game with her, but in her mind, I am not to be trusted. I get it. I've been an unredeemable asshole to her, and I don't deserve her. But fuck I want to make it right. "I'll be right back."

I'm about to go after her but don't want to push her. I don't want her to go back home after her shift, so I wait. I hear the blender turn on, and when it stops, it's not Veronica but Dorothy bringing me the glass with a straw. She looks older than I remembered. She has wrinkles around her mouth from years of smoking. Her skin looks like paper when it's been in your pocket too long. Her hair is dull and stringy with streaks of gray, but she's a good woman and stays on top of all the gossip from both schools. Last I heard, she was friends with Mrs. Bedford before she died. I've overheard my mother mention her once or twice. Her father left her this diner last year after he passed away, and she made it into a retro restaurant open twenty-four hours.

"Funny seeing you here, son. I'm surprised to see you in this neck of the woods," she says in a raspy voice, placing the glass on the table.

"I came to see someone."

"Ahh, Veronica. She's a looker, but I gotta say…you're wasting your time."

"Oh, yeah. How's that?"

I'm curious. I want to know what she thinks of her and the reason behind saying that to me. I'm sure Dorothy can tell me more about Veronica than her mother ever could. The only person that knew her was my cousin––her best friend, but she is dead. I think she was the only person who knew Veronica inside and out. I wasn't very close to Alicia, but I respected her and thought if she was best friends with Veronica, there was a reason.

That night at the party, I tried to blame Veronica, but the reality was, I wanted a reason. A reason not to feel a certain way for a girl and I used it. It was easy to accept the worst and not fight the feelings with my inner self so I could open my eyes and see her for what she really is, an innocent woman.

"She doesn't give any of the boys that come in here the time of day. They come in here like hound dogs every time they see her. Adam is always giving them looks when they give her a hard time."

"Who gives her a hard time?"

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