Page 119 of Sinister

“Petra, are you okay?” The words nearly escape my notice because there’s a prolonged ringing and quivering in my limbs as the adrenaline from a few moments ago charts its departure course through my veins.

“What are you doing here?” I shout at the same time.

How did he get inside? Why is he here?

Sin’s eyes are brimming over with concern as usual, but there’s a hint of something else too; something that unsettles me even more.

“Petra, relax! You’re okay,” he says in a soft voice underlined with the tiniest hint of urgency. “Actually, I came to make sure you were okay. I was worried. You just ran out into the rain, and it was so cold . . .”

“Forget all that, Sin,” I cut him off impatiently while also taking a step back, my hand reaching for the banister behind me. “How did you get in?” I continue in a shaky voice. “And why the hell didn’t you knock?”

The guys who had set up our intruder alarm system had assured my parents that we had the latest, state-of-the-art home security system. Of course, I was too young to remember, but the impenetrable safety of the house was something I had always taken for granted.

“The door was slightly open, Petra. I think you must have forgotten to lock it in your hurry,” Sin replies easily enough, in a tone that hides any deception. “And I didn’t want to startle you by knocking in the storm. I’m sorry if I scared you.”

I swallow hard and take deep breaths as I try to steady my nerves. The house feels colder all of a sudden.

“Sin, that doesn’t sound right. Even if I hadn’t locked the door, we-we have security. No one can just walk in. There are cameras and . . . and alarms⁠—”

“That’s not important right now,” he says, his tone sharper than I’ve ever heard it. Some dark flicker crosses his face, and his eyes narrow. “We have more serious matters to discuss. For starters, you can tell me who the father of your baby is.”

His abrupt question stuns me.

“What-what do you mean?” I manage to stammer as I step farther away from him. The landing is big enough for the both of us, but it is also a blocked-off space that I long to flee from.

“Petra, don’t you think I deserve the truth?” Sin replies in an entreating voice that completely contrasts with the pointed, frowning expression on his face. “Who is it?”

By now, I can feel my back pressing against the wall behind me.

“Sin, please calm down. Why are you doing this?”

Some sharp pain blazes across his face, and he says, “I-I need to know, Petra. Why have you been avoiding me if the baby is not mine? And if I’m not the father, who is?”

36

PETRA

“I can’t tell you,” I reply in a soft tone, trying to diffuse the situation. “It’s—let’s just say it’s complicated, Sin.”

“Complicated?” he snaps, and the glint in his eyes sets my heart aflutter. It is at once questioning and condemning. “What does that even mean?”

“Sin, I told you, it’s not your baby. That’s all you need to know.” There. That’s the ground I’m willing to concede to this pushy, frustratingly attractive young man.

“No, Petra, that’s not enough! I need more, Petra. Please, tell me: Who’s the father?” His eyes have something unhinged in them now.

The lines of his body are taut, and even in my current state of defiance-laced fear, I can’t help but notice how his neck muscles strain against the lapels of his shirt. “Sin, please, you’re scaring me. This isn’t the way to⁠—”

“Who. Is. The. Father?” Each word uttered with a staccato rhythm that bores into the sides of my head. I just stare back at him with the coldest look I can muster.

Instantly, his expression shifts.

Now he steps back and places his hands on his hips, shaking his head in frustration.

“Damn it, Petra! Don’t you see? I need to know. You owe me that much.”

“How—how dare you say that?” I snap back with fire in my eyes. “I owe you nothing. Nothing at all!”

My words are followed by a dramatic streak of lightning that momentarily illuminates our surroundings in a brilliant flash.