Page 209 of Sinister

“Sin . . .” I whisper. I can see this is not easy for him to talk about. He winces every time he remembers something particularly painful, and my heart aches for him.

“Maybe that’s when I realized it, too,” he continues, trying to keep his voice steady. “In a strange way, maybe that’s why my parents abandoned me in the first place. Because they saw I was . . . different. An anomaly.”

He pauses, staring down into his tea.

“After that, I was completely isolated. No one dared to talk to me. They were scared. And honestly, I can’t blame them. I was so young—I didn’t understand what I was or what I was capable of. Maybe . . . maybe I could have hurt someone. I don’t know.”

He shakes his head and squeezes his eyes shut for a moment.

I want to reach out to him, comfort him, hold him close to my chest and tell him no one’s ever going to hurt him again. But I force my hands into my lap and listen to him. This is my opportunity to understand him.

“The moment I realized I had this gift, what everyone else called a curse, I started to explore it. I had to. I had no one to talk to, no one to explain it to. So I learned through trial and error that I could control the shadows around me.

“It was strange at first; I didn’t know how it worked. I’d be standing in one area of the orphanage, and the light would cast a shadow beside me. The moment I stepped into it, I’d suddenly be in another part of the building.

“It was terrifying. Confusing. And I don’t blame the people who called it unnatural, because back then it felt that way to me, too.”

“Is that why they named you Sin?” I ask gently.

“Perhaps. That, and because my parents left me. I was a sin, just for being born.”

“How did you cope with all of that?”

He exhales again. “Not well. Once they realized I was behind the strange happenings, they tried everything. Priests. Physicians. Occult experts. People they thought could fix me.

“No one could. Eventually, they gave up. They stopped bothering with me altogether. That’s when I was sent to live in the attic. Meals were left at the door. No interaction. No kindness. Just silence.”

“Oh, Sin . . .” My heart twists. “I’m so sorry. That must’ve been awful.”

“It was. I won’t pretend it wasn’t. As a child, I didn’t understand why I was being punished, why I was so different. But over time, I’ve learned to control my abilities. I’m still not sure how or why I have them, but I’ve come to accept them as part of who I am.”

“Can you . . . show me?” I ask hesitantly.

“Of course,” he says. “Place your cup on the table.”

I do, and immediately the ceiling light casts a soft shadow beside the cup. I blink—and in that blink, the shadow is gone. So is the cup.

Startled, I look around. “Where⁠—?”

He opens his palm, and from the light, he summons another shadow that draws the cup back into his hand. He hands it to me with a quiet smile.

“That’s . . . strange,” I remark carefully. “Strange, but also fascinating.”

He chuckles. “I’m glad you think so. You must be the only one.”

“I’ve never met anyone with powers like yours.”

“This is how you took me from my room at night, isn’t it?”

He nods. “You never realized it, because you were asleep. You’d wake up here with me and think it was a dream,” he admits.

“But you let me believe it was just a dream.”

“You weren’t ready,” he says softly. “Not then.”

“And now?”

“You’re not running. You’re not recoiling in fear.”