Page 10 of Two Sides of Sin

The house hummed with the heavy, stagnant silence that only grief can produce.

I had spent the last two hours outside, the roar of the lawnmower providing a temporary shield against my own thoughts. I do the maintenance regularly. I fix the leaky faucets, I trim the hedges, and I ensure Nana’s world doesn’t fall apart physically, even as it disintegrates emotionally. It’s a penance of sorts, a way to be the hero while I prepare to be the villain.

I sat at the kitchen table, the wood cool beneath my palms. Upstairs, June was sleeping. She always sleeps during the day now, as if the sun is too loud, too bright for the world she’s been forced into. I pulled a piece of paper from my pocket and reached for a pen. The words didn’t come from the part of me that serves the Ritual, they came from the part of me that is terrifyingly, dangerously infatuated with a girl I am destined to destroy.

The world is cold and quiet now,

The stars have lost their glow,

But I am here to hold you, June,

Everywhere you go.

Though shadows lean against the door,

And the winter’s wind is deep,

I’ll guard the space within your heart,

And watch you while you sleep.

Lean your heavy head on me,

Let the weeping finally end,

For I am more than just a shadow

I’m your anchor and your friend.

I climbed the staircase, my boots making no sound. I am an expert at moving through spaces without being noticed. I slipped into her room, the air thick and suffocating with the scent of her grief. I walked over to her window and opened it, letting the crisp, fresh air fill the room.

June was curled on her side, a small, fragile shape beneath the heavy duvet. Her hair was strung across her face in a chaotic web of dark silk, and her pillow was damp, stained with the tears she must have cried before sleep finally took mercy on her.

I reached out, my fingers trembling slightly as I brushed the hair away from her damp cheek. Her skin was warm, a reminder of her humanity, her mortality.

“My sweet June,” I whispered into the quiet room, my voice a ghost of a sound. “This all won’t hurt so much one day. I promise.”

I knew I was lying. The pain would only change shape, becoming something anchored, something permanent. But I needed her to believe in the morning, even if I was the one bringing the night.

I placed the note on her bedside table, right next to a framed photo of her and Annie, and let myself out. As I walked down the driveway towards the manor, I didn’t look back.

I couldn’t.

Chapter 8

June

The second between opening my eyes and remembering Annie had died is the only peace I’m granted anymore. Then, reality settles. reminding me that my world is different now.

I rolled over, my muscles aching as if I’d been running a marathon in my sleep. Her face was the first thing I saw. Sitting on my nightstand, the photo felt less like a memory and more like a cruel joke.

her eyes so bright, so full of the life that I still had and she didn’t.

“I’m sorry, Annie,” I whispered. My voice sounded like a strangers, thin and brittle. “I miss you.”

I reached for the paper Julian had left. I traced the curves of his handwriting, reading the poem again. It was supposed to be a comfort, I knew that. Julian was trying. He was being the stand up gentleman everyone always said he was. But the words felt like they were written for a different girl, one who hadn’t let her childhood best friend slip through her fingers.

A sudden lash of rain struck the window, the sound like gravel hitting the glass. Julian had obviously opened the window and the curtains earlier, trying to let the light in while I was sleeping, but I couldn’t stand it. I scrambled out of bed, my head light and spinning, and fought the latch until the window slammed shut. I yanked the curtains closed, exhaling only when the room was shrouded in gloom again. Darkness felt more honest. More comfortable. More deserving.