Unleashing Sin

by A. M. Wilson

  “Don’t be an ass!” she snaps, shocking all the sarcastic asshole out of me. Her chest heaves, and she angrily swipes a rogue strand of hair from her face. “People care about you. You don’t have to throw that in our faces.”

  My anger comes back full force. “Just because you’ve latched onto Elias and me like some little bloodsucking leech, doesn’t mean you know anything about me. I don’t need someone like you caring.” I turn my back on them and head for the hall. I need to piss and take a nap.

  “You need Elias,” she calls after me in her soft voice, erasing all evidence of her previous ire. “And as much as you love to push me, I have grown to care about you. I know you lost someone.” The last sentence falls from her lips like an afterthought.

  My hands curl into fists, my chin drops to my chest, and my breaths become harder to take. What is this magic she casts over me whenever I’m in her presence?

  “She was taken from me.”

  “And I was taken from someone.”

  She has my back, and I can’t see her face, but I can feel her stare as if we’re face to face.

  “That doesn’t mean—ˮ

  “It does. It means we only have each other. It means I understand better than anybody what you’re feeling.”

  “You don’t know shit,” I throw back, but the power behind my words is diminishing.

  “I know exactly what she went through. And that’s haunted you, hasn’t it? She’s gone, and the only thing you have is your own imagination as to what she endured. I’m the link to the truth. Is that why you try so hard to push me away?”

  “No,” I reply, but it’s agonized. Tortured. She’s pushing my buttons, and she knows exactly how to do it.

  I can hear the soft falls of her feet against my carpet. She’s moving closer, but I can’t seem to unstick myself and retreat.

  “I think it is. I think you don’t—ˮ She gasps sharply, cutting off the rest of her sentence.

  “What’s wrong?” Elias asks, taking a step farther into the room, while my initial reaction is to turn around and study her face.

  The little color she’s had over the past few weeks has drained completely, leaving her complexion a ghostly white. Her eyes are fixated on the coffee table, so I follow her gaze. There, between the bottle of Captain and the empty pack of smokes, is an uncapped, used needle. Fucking hell.

  Elias sees it too. I don’t have to look at his face to know. I can feel his eyes on me while he shakes his head in disappointment. I don’t know why, though. What else did he think I was doing these past two weeks?

  “Why do you do all the things that they did?”

  I almost miss her question because the words are so quiet.

  “Not this again,” I reply angrily.

  “Yes, this again. What is it? Is it the same drugs they used? Is it heroin?”

  “I didn’t ask for a fucking intervention.” I direct my words at Elias, but he continues to stay silent.

  “Answer me!” Shelby explodes.

  “Yes! It’s fucking heroin. It’s also none of your goddamn business.”

  Everything about her falls with my admission—her face, her body, and then her words. “I can’t be here, Elias. Please don’t make me be.”

  He clears his throat and gestures toward the door with his hand. “We can go,” he answers quietly.

  It’s my turn to fall—my face, my arms. I watch them go.

  As Shelby steps out the door, she turns back to me. The haunted look on her face is one I’ll never forget for as long as I live. Her pale cheeks nearly match the whites of her wide eyes. She wraps her slender fingers around the doorframe, leaning toward me as she speaks.

  “I’ll never understand how someone could willingly chase that high. There’s nothing that can compare to being held down and shot up against your will. And after those first few times, I’d have given anything, traded anything, my body, my life, for another fix. Nothing compares to that shame. If you cared about your sister for one second, you’d stop it now.”

  Finished with her speech, she gives me her back.

  Elias grabs the door handle, and I’m too stunned to fucking move.

  “You need me, you know how to get in touch.” He closes the door behind them.

  It starts as a trickle, my own shame creeping in. Her words are a direct hit. Molly would disown me if she could see me right now. At this moment, I’d take her disowning me if it meant she was alive to see it.

  Too bad I know with everything I am that will never happen.

  I don’t know why I care so damn much what this bitch thinks of me, but I do. I’ve tried fighting against her words, her looks, her presence, but it’s beginning to be too much. It started as a small tug, and over time has grown into a full-on tether. She moves, and my body wants to follow.

  My legs tremble as I force them in the other direction. The crawl up from my knees is near painful, but I do it. It’s not because she tells me to. I don’t do what other people want.

  I get up because I can’t sit on the floor all day.

  I get up, stalk to the coffee table, grab my stash, and throw it all into the trash because my house is a goddamn mess.

  Chapter Eight

  Sin

  The shakes have been going on for hours. They started after the bugs. Every inch of my skin crawls with bugs, and I can’t make it stop. I can’t scratch them away. I can’t wash them away. The shower only brought on the shivering, and I can’t stop that either. I’ve been lying on the floor of the tub for what feels like days. I’m being pelted with ice while at the same time my body is burning. I’m on fire, and the ice has turned into tiny arrows burrowing into my skin. The wetness is my blood. I’m going to die here alone at the bottom of this tub, drowning in my own blood.

  Suddenly, the arrows stop. I think I make a noise, but all I hear is the growl of a rabid animal. The cold suddenly turns to hot, and my skin is melting off.

  “Sin.”

  “No,” the animal says.

  “Sin, it’s Shelby.”

  It growls. I think it’s a bear or a wolf.

  “Help me.”

  I don’t know if that was the girl or me. Maybe it was the animal.

  I’m being moved, half carried half dragged, and the contents of my stomach come rushing up. I retch and dry heave so hard my body trembles, but nothing comes out. Nothing but the sickly yellow bile of someone who hasn’t eaten in days.

  “I’ll stay,” someone says.

  I want to tell them to go, but my mouth isn’t working. I want to die in peace.

  ***

  “No,” I mutter, biting back the curse word on my tongue.

  “Sin, please, just take a bite. You haven’t eaten for days.”

  I cut Shelby a glare. “I wonder why that is.” My teeth chatter, making me draw the S out like a hiss.

  Her face pinches in concern. “Are you cold? Let me get you another blanket.”

  “Woman!” I bark, stopping her as she stands from the bed. “Just go.”

  The expression falls from concern to understanding. “I’m not leaving, so you should stop asking me to.”

  “I ain’t askin’.”

  “Sin.”

  “Shelby,” I mock, trying to be a dick. My behavior is cut short by a sharp cramping in my stomach. “Ah, fuck.”

  “What is it? Sin!” Her soft voice crescendos with her concern.

  “Stop calling me that,” I moan, fighting the urge to curl into a ball. I know it’s the withdrawals and hunger pains. I’m not actually dying even though I’ve felt like it for days. The worst of it is over, so long as I can hold out on the urge to plunge another needle in my vein.

  “Then what should I call you?” She sits back down on the bed. Close enough to reach me but far enough away to show she’s still afraid of me. I hope that means she’s learned her lesson.

  “Alexander … Alex. Just stop calling me Sin.”

  Now, why the fuck did I say that?

  My head hits the p
illows, and I shift in the bed. I use the movement to mask that I’m watching her from my periphery. She twists her fingers, watches them. Then shifts her gaze around the room. I don’t know what she sees, but there’s nothing in here—nothing on the walls, no picture frames. I have a bed, a dresser, a closet, and a bathroom. The walls are a faded yellow, probably more from cigarette smoke than actual paint, and the carpet is a dark forest green shag.

  “Okay … Alex.” As my name slips off her tongue, she peeks at me from beneath her lashes. That right there is why I wanted to hear my real name fall from her lips. That look on her face while she says it.

  I close my eyes, shutting out her face. “Now go.”

  “Si-I mean, Alex. You need to eat.”

  “I’ll eat when I’m ready,” I growl, opening my eyes to glare at her.

  “One bite, Alex. Please.”

  I don’t know what it is. The look on her face or the way she says my name, but I find myself giving in. “Give me the fuckin’ spoon. Jesus Christ.”

  Her lips tip up in a small, accomplished smile as she shifts the bowl of chicken noodle soup closer and gives me the spoon.

  Sweet Jesus, the second that broth hits my tongue, I want to grab the bowl and lap it up like a Doberman. It takes every ounce of strength to keep my face neutral and slowly lift another spoonful to my lips.

  “Is it good?”

  “Hmph,” I grunt around another spoonful.

  “Elias has been letting me cook at his place. He showed me how to read the recipes and left me to it. I’ve been going a little crazy …”

  The hopeful look on her face is too much. “It’s good.”

  Those two words light her up like a Christmas tree. “You think so? I have a hard time following the spice recommendations on recipes. I find they always suggest way too much, so it’s like I’m eating a mouthful of herbs. I’m not used to such flavorful food. I’ve been playing around and adding my own.” She stops suddenly. A pink blush spreads across her cheeks. “I’m sorry, I’m rambling. I’m glad you like it. I’ll just leave you to it.”

  As she goes to stand, something comes over me, and I reach out and snatch her wrist. It becomes obvious instantly that it was the wrong move. She freezes. As quickly as I grabbed her, I let her go, muttering a, “Sorry.”

  The sound of her deep breathing pierces my chest. Way to fuck things up, idiot.

  “It’s ... okay. Just … don’t grab me. Please.”

  “Shelby …” I let her name linger, at a loss for words. My lungs constrict at the residual horror etched on her face.

  She throws on an artificial smile. “Nope! It’s okay. I’m going to clean up the dishes in the kitchen while you eat. I’ll be back in a bit.”

  I don’t give her a response, and she doesn’t wait for one before she rushes from the room.

  Shelby lingers around my apartment for the rest of the afternoon but avoids me except to take away my dirty bowl and refill my glass of water. As the sun starts to sink, casting apricot shadows around the room, I want to move. I feel better than I have in days. A residual ache hovers throughout my body, causing the shakes, but the food and drink have definitely helped.

  A grin takes my lips, and I let out a low, three-toned whistle as I approach the hall; the memory of my stupid attempt to alleviate her fear of an intruder floats through my mind. That moment was like a snake trying to comfort a rabbit before it eats it. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing when it comes to Shelby, but she brings out a different side of me without even trying.

  Her soft giggle hits my ears and stops me in the mouth of the hall. I close my eyes and replay the sound in my head.

  I made her laugh.

  How the hell did a big bastard like me make that princess laugh?

  And what does it say that I want to do it again?

  “Hey, you all right?” she calls, probably wondering why I haven’t moved. Her words unstick me, and I stride into the room.

  “My body fuckin’ kills. I needed to get out of that bed before I became a part of it.”

  The last part of that sentence goes right over her head. At the mention of my body, her eyes widen before scanning me from head to toe, and she hasn’t moved a muscle since. Except for her eyes. They haven’t stopped taking me in. If she doesn’t stop, she’s going to see me tenting my pants like a hormonal teenager.

  I cross my arms over my chest and paste a cocky grin on my face. “You all right?”

  At my voice, she nearly jumps off the couch. Her eyes snap back to mine. The pinkness looks nice on her cheeks. A sign of life. “Yes,” she replies, a little breathless. “Want to join me? I was going to watch a movie, but I don’t know how to work this thing.” She holds up the controller to my PlayStation.

  I cross the living space and plant my ass on the couch near the center. She scoots off to one side and cuddles the arm of the couch.

  “I don’t bite.” My words sound darker than I intend them.

  “I know. I’m just comfortable over here.” She sends a smile my way, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

  She’s still afraid of me, and I only have myself to blame for that. Every time she’s warmed up to me, I’ve chased her away.

  “Let’s fire up Netflix and find a movie. No girly shit, though. I only watch action films. If someone falls in love along the way, whatever, but it can’t be the entire plot, or I’m turning it off.”

  “Do you not believe in love?”

  I snort. “Two people can enjoy fucking and the other’s company enough to coexist and tolerate each other for the rest of their lives. It’s basic human nature to care about another person. But the concept of love like little girls are taught basically from the womb is nothing but a marketing gimmick.”

  “How unromantic.”

  “How realistic.”

  “I find that sad. Haven’t you ever loved somebody?”

  The question strikes a nerve. Deep. I loved Molly more than my own life and look where that got me? Her? “There’s a difference between romantic love and loving someone who was a piece of yourself.”

  “You mean Molly?”

  My head whips around so fast I get a pain in my neck. “What do you know?”

  “I don’t know anything.” Her voice drops lower, softer. “Only what you said the day I woke up. I only know she was something to you. I’m sorry for bringing her up.”

  “She was my sister.” My voice cracks on that word. She wasn’t just my sister. She was my everything. A lump sticks in my throat, and I struggle to breathe. “She was taken. She was taken like you.”

  I fixate on the TV, but I’m not seeing the screen. My mind drifts once again to the day she left, and the memory swirls like a fog.

  “Did you find her …?” Shelby asks delicately. She knows. More than anyone, she understands what it’s like to lose your entire life. Fuck, I’m being selfish. She knows more than me what it’s like. She’s just like Molly, except she’s still breathing.

  “No. They took my sister, killed my father. We went after them,” I tell her, looking over my shoulder at her. Shelby sits turned toward me with her back resting against the arm of the chair. I never even felt her move. “My father, his friend, Elias, and I. We’ve searched this entire fuckin’ city for her. Got as far as getting inside their headquarters before the bastard Gutierrez shot and killed my father.”

  Shelby visibly shudders. “I’m so sorry, Alex. I don’t recognize her name, but we all had different names when we got there. It was their way of owning us. But maybe if you have a picture, I might recognize her.”

  I clench my jaw. “No.”

  Her face pales. “You don’t have to share her with me. I understand.”

  “No, I meant I don’t have a picture.” I blow out a harsh breath and run a hand through my hair. “I don’t even have a picture. How fucked up is that?”

  I’m forced out of my thoughts by a tiny, warm hand wrapping around the back of my neck. I can’t even look at her, but I know she’s lookin
g at me. She’s looking at me and comforting me for my dead sister when she’s gone through the same. I want to buck her off at the same time I want to drag her into my lap and hold on.

  “I don’t know what I’m doing, but it seemed like you needed a person.”

  “All my people end up dead,” I croak.

  Her fingers twist into my nape. “Is your mother dead?”

  She’s your responsibility now, Alex. Take care of your sister for me.

  “She left us when I was eight. My dad was a big drinker. A real asshole. He never laid his hands on her, but his words tore her down. So much so, we weren’t enough to make her stay. We weren’t enough for her to even fight for custody. She left us with him and never looked back.”

  “So she isn’t dead—ˮ

  I cut her off. “She also isn’t my person.” I catch her eyes, making sure she gets my meaning before looking back toward the TV. “She left us to him. Let me tell you, he never laid a hand on us, but he was a mean drunk. I guess it runs in the family. Molly was my responsibility, and I protected her through all that the best I could. Kills me that as soon as we were old enough to get out of that, I failed.”

  “What about Elias?”

  I scoff, but it turns into a growl as her hand shifts in my hair. “Only a matter of time.”

  Shelby sucks in a breath. “That’s a terrible way to think.”

  Reaching around my neck, I grab her wrist and pull her hand away. “It’s the damn truth.” I can’t seem to let her go, though. I turn her hand palm up and place my fingers in her palm. She’s soft and warm. The skin there is impossibly smooth.

  “Are you a pessimist?”

  “I’m a realist.”

  Her fingers curl tight around mine. I could pull my hand away. Force hers to open and let me go. Instead, the move forces me to look at her. “Can I tell you about my past?”

  My hand spasms in hers. “Yeah,” I reply. It sounds scratchy because my throat is suddenly dry.

  “I met this girl there, and she taught me to hope. It doesn’t sound like you have much.”

  “That well’s run dry, blossom.”