Page 8 of Sinister

“Are you okay?” he asks again. The music has been paused, it seems, and people are talking among themselves—while looking pointedly at us, of course.

I nod weakly, still trying to catch my breath. “Ye-yeah . . . I th-think so.”

“Dude, what the absolute fuck?” Elias is back and panicking again. “Are you okay, bro?” He’s looking at Sin with concern and fear.

I mean, I’m the one who got pushed into the pool, but whatever, I guess.

“I’m fine. Petra needs to go inside and warm up,” Sin replies curtly, and I’m surprised he takes that tone with the guy who’s supposed to be his best friend.

At this point, I’m fully drenched and shivering violently from the cold and the shock.

“Who did that?” Sin demands again, looking around the crowd with a menacing expression.

Many of the guys and girls seem to flinch away from his glare. I’m not the least bit surprised to notice that Daphne and her cult are nowhere to be seen.

“Did you see them, Petra?” Sin asks again.

I shake my head, and my teeth chatter miserably as I say, “N-n-no . . . I-it hap-happened s-s-so fa-fast!”

Sin’s jaw tightens as he says, “Let’s get you inside and dried off. You’re freezing.”

“Yeah, man, that’s a good idea,” Elias chimes in, and from his tone, I can tell that he wants to get on Sin’s good side again.

I nod erratically, too cold and too overwhelmed to argue. As Sin leads me back into the mansion, I can’t help but feel a mix of humiliation and gratitude—humiliated by the cruel prank, yet grateful for Sin’s swift rescue.

The warmth of the house assaults my senses at first as the sudden shift in temperature makes my skin crawl unpleasantly.

Sin’s hand is perched firmly on the small of my back, and I’m both discomforted and comforted by it.

I suppose a near-death experience will do that to a girl.

He leads me through the thinning crowd and up a grand staircase as the cold sinks deeper into my bones. We soon reach the third floor, entering a room with an en suite bathroom. I surmise that the washer and dryer are at the end of the hall.

The room itself is spacious, with a large bed draped in rich, dark fabrics and a window that offers a view of the moonlit pool below.

As soon as we enter, I feel something break inside me, and a sob slips past my lips. It’s too late to try to stifle it. The tears come rushing down, almost violently.

If one humiliation weren’t enough, now I’m about to make a fool of myself in front of a stranger, too.

I don’t cry.

I really don’t.

So what the hell is wrong with me now?

“Hey, hey, hey,” Sin says in a soothing voice. “It’s okay, Petra. I mean, it’s not okay, someone pushed you into the pool for fuck’s sake, but you’re okay now. You’re safe.” His palm traces small circles over my back as I try to stem the sudden flow of tears.

“I don’t . . . I don’t know why I’m crying,” I manage to gasp out in the end.

This is partly true. I have been moping around the whole day, but breaking down into tears seems like an overreaction, even to me.

But if I thought that Sin would judge or pity me, I’m proven wrong when he says nothing and continues to pat my back as I finally calm down and bring my breathing under control.

“Better now?” he asks gently, and I nod, feeling lighter than I’ve felt the whole day.

The carpet is plush and soft beneath my bare feet. Sin hands me a towel and a velvet robe, both incredibly soft to the touch. It makes me yearn to snuggle inside and never come up for air.

But there’s still the issue of my clothes, which are still clinging to me, drenched and cold.