Page 9 of My Forever Sin

There’s no expression on Kain’s face as he slowly lowers the stick back down, blowing a cloud of smoke out of his mouth, while never breaking eye contact.

He nods as if he’s confirming something to himself.

Too long. I’ve allowed myself to look at him too long. It’s been a game of who will crack first, but I won’t give in.

Flicking my attention to the doors of the church, I march up the stairs with purpose, right past Kain—who’s mere meters from me now—like he doesn’t exist. Like I didn't just look a snake in the eyes. I never let my steps falter, though the quaking in my knees makes me feel like I’m walking on stilts.

Back then? I would’ve run to him like my life depended on it, but now…

Keeping to the shadowed corners of the musty stone, the candlelight reflects off the gold accents of the church as I emerge from the dark entryway. My head is screaming at me to turn around and check to see if he’s following, but I shove it down and keep walking.

Finding a lone chair, I sit on it. Kain’s dad, my stepdad, stands to the right on the other side of the room. Short, neatly styled and thinning grey hair sits atop his forehead, and permanent wrinkles line his face. Next to him is my mother, glowing as brightly as ever, like the years haven't touched her at all. She’s smiling, listening to the priest drone on with excerpts from the bible. Something inside me pulls at me to run over there and plunge a knife into their necks—into my mother’s. What a satisfying end it would be for them to bleed out on holy ground. The last face they see being the person they broke and fixed simultaneously without even knowing it. My face.

Most of the people here are hypnotised by the altar, by Father Michaels’ speech as he holds a chalice of wine. Just another group of manipulated souls.

Mother hasn’t noticed me yet, and for someone who wanted me here, she isn’t making any attempt at looking for me.

“And walk in love, as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us, a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God.”

After what feels like an eternity, I decide to leave. I can’t listen to another bible verse, and no matter how much I try to push back against the rising memories of the convent, it’s starting to become a more difficult task than I care to deal with. It’s too fresh and my palms are starting to sweat. Not to mention that relentless need to hurt someone.

I continue along the shadowed walls until I come to a small, carved, wooden entryway and push it open, slipping through into a dark corridor. The smell of smoke with a tinge of herbs fills my senses as I click the door shut, using my hand to soften the sound it makes. I shroud myself in darkness. Peaceful.

Breathe.

Carefully backing away, I search around for an exit with my hands, until I hit something hard with my back.

“Jordie.” A smooth, deep voice strokes my ears, causing me to pull in a startled breath. I turn towards the voice I know very well, but it’s deeper now.

The energy in the room shifts, and a roaring begins in my ears.

“Kain.” His name hesitantly rolls off my tongue like an ancient curse.

A glowing bud lifts a couple of inches into the air above and flushes brighter as Kain takes a long drag of something, but I don’t know what it is. The clergy at St Anton’s smoked all the time—to ‘liberate their bodies of sin’—so I’m used to it, but this definitely doesn't smell like that. Is it sage?

My fingers are itching to hurt him the way he hurt me, but my mind is in turmoil. I don’t know what to do or how to weave myself out of this situation as I pull at the hem of my skirt, bonding them to my sides. It’s like my body wants to be close to him, pulling me to him, but my head is begging me to punch him in the face for what he did. I feel like a caged animal, but my trainer is locked in with me, and he holds the whip. Who knows what he’d do if I attacked?

“Want some?” he offers, extending the glowing cigarette in my direction. There’s a low husk to his voice that sends shivers down my spine.