Page 123 of Sinister

The paper curls, blackens, and burns.

And for just one second, I wonder—did he write something different this time? Did he finally confess and ask for forgiveness? Did he give a new explanation?

Curiosity burns inside me.

Just one second.

I nearly reach into the flames, but I stop myself.

I stay still.

I watch it burn and pray that the fire will carry away the last of my longing. Because yes, to my shame, I do feel something for him. And I know if I see him again, he’ll use that against me.

“Goodbye, Sin,” I whisper to the fire. “I hope we never meet again.”

When the last ember dies, I crack open the window to let the smoke escape.

At peace with my decision, I head to the bathroom to take a hot bath before bed. While waiting for the water to fill the porcelain tub, I shed my clothes and arrange them neatly to the side.

The light flickers a few times, the bathroom illuminated by only one bulb.

A shiver runs down my back, but I quickly shove aside any ominous thoughts and lower myself in the tub. The hot water engulfs my skin, and I let out a sigh of contentment.

Yet even that cannot banish the thoughts of Sin out of my head. I glance down at my naked body, my lips pursed in contemplation.

Before, I’ve never taken notice of my body; never analyzed it. But I would be lying if I said the things he did to me, the things he showed to me about my body, didn’t make me . . . curious.

It takes me a couple of minutes to gather the courage to slide my hand lower down my stomach until I reach that place between my legs.

But then I stop.

I shouldn’t be doing this, right? It’s immoral, or so I’ve been taught.

Yet how can something that feels so good be so bad?

In my mind, the bad is relegated to the church’s teachings and my experience with Sin—though the latter is not because I did not enjoy it, but because I was misled into it; because he abused my trust and lied to me.

And yet . . . why would I allow another man to dictate how I should feel?

I reach lower, searching for that hidden spot. The first touch startles me. It makes something coil low in my stomach.

I blink, both scared and excited.

Focusing on that spot, I emulate the same movements as Sin had done, hoping I can re-create the same feeling as before.

The anticipation is there. That spark appears the more I rub at it. But ultimately, it fizzes out before I can reach that elusive pinnacle.

I let out a tired sigh and remove my hand from between my legs. That was . . . disappointing.

Submerging deeper under water, my gaze moves to the flickering light on the ceiling. But something there gets my attention. There’s a shadow moving over the opposite wall, and another on the same one. Shadows don’t work like that . . . no?

Fear brims inside of me, and I cut my bath short, quickly getting out and putting my night robe on.

When I get back to my room, I head to the vanity to braid my hair for the night.

But as I lower myself before the vanity, I catch a shadow moving in the mirror. A chill climbs my spine.

I spin around and gasp.