Page 273 of Sinister

Lock your doors, keep to the lamplight, and pray, dear reader. Evil lingers still.

More as details of this dreadful affair come to light.

75

PETRA

Present Day

I wake up screaming. The pain still lingers in my mind, in my skin, my bones. I’m shaking from the residual adrenaline as the images from my dream loop in my mind.

“Petra? What’s wrong?” Sin asks, his expression filled with worry.

I continue crying out. He grabs me by the shoulders and shakes me.

“Petra, what’s wrong? Did you have a nightmare?” he keeps asking.

I stare at him through tear-rimmed eyes, seeing him—Sin. My Sin. But now I have the knowledge of the past. I know what he did. I know that he . . .

“You left me,” I whisper in a broken voice. “You left me!” I cry out, sobs wracking my body.

He frowns and shakes his head. “What are you talking about? I’m here. I never left you.”

“Liar!” I shout and push him off me. “Liar!”

I continue backing away from him until I almost fall off the bed. On shaky legs, I get up, still staring at him—at his familiar face that now feels so strange.

Because this person in front of me is the same person from over a hundred years ago.

He’s the same person who never came for me when I called for him. The same person who abandoned me to live the most painful moments of my life. The same person who was never there when I needed him the most.

“You . . .” My voice trembles, my body high on adrenaline. I can still feel the lick of the fire from before, that penetrating pain that doesn’t seem to go away no matter how hard I try.

And now, there’s also the heartbreak.

“You left me,” I say again, brokenly.

“Petra, please talk to me. Tell me what this is about, and we’ll fix it, okay? I never left you,” he swears.

I shake my head at him.

“Please, Petra, calm down. It can’t be good for the baby.”

“Now you’re worrying about me?” I burst out.

Unable to face him for a moment longer, I dash out of the room. And yet, the only place I can run to is the old study. I race across the corridor, reach the door, open and close it behind me, and lock it.

I hear his steps following me, then the bangs at the door.

“Petra! Tell me what’s going on, please!”

“No. I can’t talk right now. Please, let me be.”

“Petra, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Suit yourself,” I mutter and step away from the door.

I hear him slide to the floor, his back against the frame. Just as he said—he’s not leaving.