Page 169 of Sin Like the Devil

The two aren’t so unlike after all. We love to hate and hate that which we love. Whoever said humans can’t be made of extremes clearly had the privilege of a life without trauma or heartache. The rest of us know that it’s a careful tightrope walk between the two.

“I still want to h-hate you so b-badly,” Ripley says into my icy skin. “And I d-don’t want to understand why you murdered my b-best friend. But… part of me d-does.”

“I didn’t tell you any of this to change your mind, Rip. I’m not asking for forgiveness… some of us don’t deserve it.”

“No. S-Some of us don’t.”

You know what? Fuck it.

I’m tired of the charade. I’m tired of justifying my hatred and looking for the next opportunity to inflict it. I’m tired of being Ripley’s nemesis when all along, we were both just collateral damage. The price of surviving Incendia’s abuse.

They’ve taken so much from us.

I want to die with a shred of humanity left.

“But for the record, I am sorry,” I say slowly, deliberately. “For all of it.”

After a brief pause, she sucks in sharply. “I’m sorry t-too. For all of it.”

There’s no puff of smoke or sparkling golden gate appearing above us. Redemption isn’t a tick box to be checked and filed away. Though we wish it would be, right? Forgiveness would come easier that way.

Hatred doesn’t disappear with a few words.

But it does soften and contextualise.

It does relent.

“Then I guess… At least we’re dying on the same side?” I suggest uncertainly.

“What s-side is that?”

Stroking her wet curls, I let myself savour a split-second of satisfaction. She’s in my arms. For tonight, I can pretend she’s mine.

“The side of the villains.”

CHAPTER 27

RIPLEY

MY NAME IS HUMAN – HIGHLY SUSPECT

I startle awake to the sound of a man screaming. Deep, blood-curdling screams. The kind that only a few are unlucky enough to ever hear. It’s a barbaric sound.

My cheek is pressed up against something warm and hard. The earthy smell of burning wood lingers beneath blood and mildew lacing the air. It emanates from the sculpted chest I quickly realise I’m cuddled up to.

Our hips are aligned, legs tangled together and bodies conjoined. Not a scrap of fabric to keep us apart. The fact we survived the night pales in comparison to our current sleeping arrangement. Lennox’s face is spooned in the crook of my neck.

Lennox.

Fucking Lennox!

He didn’t release me for even a second as we drifted, shivering and near-hypothermic, through hours of misery. When the lights slammed on and the air conditioning stopped, he didn’t move to let go, and I didn’t ask him to.

We slept like this.

Entwined as one.

Bathing in the body heat of the man who should be my enemy, I let my thoughts stray. Raine is never far from my mind. I’m plagued by the image of him being dragged in here and tortured alongside us.

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