Page 5 of Forgive Me For I Have Sinned

I laugh through my nose. "No, he won't."

He would rather see me die and be buried here, so he could piss on my grave and take a shit in each flower holder every time he walks through the cemetery to visit his sister. If he ever does. No one comes to visit her. It's too painful for him and his family. Everyone deals with loss and pain differently. Reid deals with it in his way, and I deal with it in mine. But I owe it to my best friend to visit her and let her know I'll keep my promise. Always.

I slide my hair over my shoulder, needing to head home or face my father's wrath. I slide my phone out of my pocket, acting like someone sent me a message. "I gotta go. See you around?"

She nods. "Yeah," she says softly, sliding her hair behind her ear and stepping back. "Do you want to hang out with me and Gia? Maybe go shopping or something."

I hate turning her down when she is trying to be a friend. Even though I don't deserve it for what I did to her, even if my inner motives came from a good place. But in everyone's eyes, I don't deserve anything. Not even a friend. With my best friend dead, I have to agree with them. Jess is better off staying away from me. I did what had to be done–– what needed to be done.

I glance down at my shoes that belonged to Alicia, allowing a few seconds to pass so I can paste a fake grin on my face, so the lie that slips off my lips doesn't sit in my conscience like a heavy brick when I look up. "Yeah, let me know, and I'll meet up with you guys."

* * *

Making my way down the hallway to the room I call a torture chamber, I check the time on my phone. I have two hours before my late shift at the small restaurant on the edge of town begins. It's been two years, to be exact. I caved one night visiting Dorothy and asked if I could work the night shift during the week and she agreed.

I push the door open, hearing it groan on its old hinges. This house is one of the oldest besides Kenyan. It still has servants’ quarters in the basement, keeping in tune with the ancient Victorian era my father refuses to change.

I look to my left and see the man I loathe with every fiber of my being. A man that is part of my living nightmare. "Good, you're here."

His voice feels like a snake's venom sliding through my veins, shutting my organs down one by one. The smell of his preferred whiskey reminds me of the past and present.

"I am," I quip.

I watch as he widens his legs in the chair he is sitting in with a predatory smile, hoping he can find something I did wrong in his eyes.

"You know I don't like to be kept waiting, Veronica. Tell me, how was your day?"

I close my eyes and tell him what he wants to hear. The sins I committed because he loves to make me pay.

* * *

"Will that be all?" I ask the couple seated at table fourteen with a smile, placing the plate on the table.

"Yes," the guy says first, as I notice his girlfriend looking straight at him. Probably to see if he's flirting. I hate that feeling. When you like someone so much and hope they are into you the same way you are into them, you're looking for signs because you feel insecure.

I smile at her and avoid looking at her boyfriend to ensure she doesn't feel threatened by me. "We have a new Oreo shake if you're interested. It goes great with the burgers." I smile, looking at her.

She sags in relief, and I make sure to avoid any and all eye contact with her boyfriend. A man that doesn't make sure he only has eyes for his girl sucks in my book.

I glance over at Dorothy as she walks my way and softly says, "Hey, love. Table twelve just sat down, and eleven will be ready to be seated."

I smile. "You got it, Dorothy."

Dorothy knows more about the gossip in Kenyan than I do. She knows most of the parents and the kids who go there. Especially the late Mrs. Bedford, Draven and Dravin's mother. They were fond of each other. I remember the day I found out how close they were when I came to visit Dorothy during her shift, needing a job.

It's funny how a place and its people remind you of certain events in your life that mean the most, but at the same time end in the worst. It didn't stop the night of the party. If anyone mentioned me around Alaric, he would tell people I was a lying whore behind my back and that I was looking to make an alliance because of my father's greed. Alicia told me everything she heard him say about me. Of course, that wasn't true. She was only one person that I confided in and told the truth, and now she's dead.

I pull the ticket off my next order by the kitchen and place the hot plate on the tray. "Is it true you used to be blonde?"

I look over at my friend and co-worker Adam and pinch my brows in confusion for a split second, but then I remember I'm at work, and the fake Veronica Devlin was left home in the dark mansion of hell. "In high school. Who told you that?"

It must have been Dorothy. She is the only one that has seen me with my colorless, platinum-blonde hair. Hair that was dyed because my father liked it the shade of platinum, but hair can only take so much damage, and my scalp could only take so much pain. Now I use pricey extensions and wigs. The only thing my father would pay for, sparing no expense in the way he wanted me to look.

"Dorothy. She said you are one of the few women she knows that can pull off extreme looks like that." He leans close and says softly, "I like your dark hair, honestly."

Adam is about to graduate high school and will be a freshman at Ohio University. It's a rival school, but he doesn't know I attend Kenyan. He also doesn't know who my father or mother is, and I’d like to keep it that way. He started working here his senior year of high school, needing the extra money for college. He secured a scholarship, but he has to pay for additional expenses.

"Thanks," I say, grabbing the tray and heading to the next table.

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