Page 110 of In the Light of Sin

She looked up, unafraid. I admired the strength she mustered up. “I don’t think he’ll ever truly go away.”

Ghosts never did. “I’d kill him over and over again if that’s what makes you smile.”

“I know you would.” She stretched on her tiptoes, putting the hand I wasn’t occupying on my cheek, carefully avoiding Douglas’ dried blood. “Once is enough. I want you to be absolved of your sins, Sarge.”

“I never will.” You can’t come back from the anguish I’ve caused six families. I abandoned more than just my comrades. I left behind fathers, brothers, and sons. There’s no coming back from that. “I’ll keep destroying myself to return your missing pieces.”

She smiled, her pretty pink lips soft as the emerald in her eyes lightened. The way she looked at me always did something to this fucking broken heart of mine. “You’re the only piece that was missing.”

My chest was uncomfortable with the affection she readily gave me. I knew how to fight and fuck, but I didn’t know how to be a gentleman that was suave and soft with her and her needs. “If you want me to say somethin’ sweet and romantic, you can fuckin’ forget it.”

Her hand went to her stomach, body hunched over as she began to laugh. Fuck if her laughing wasn’t the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard. Her emerald eyes twinkled, bright with whatever happiness she could pull out from a life that’s been as fucked as hers was. “I don’t need you to be sweet. I just need you near me.” She never had to worry about me leaving or trying to get her away from me ever again.

The only thing that could separate us was death.

Chapter 28: Joslyn

I was back at the place where the nightmare began.

My parents’ home. A place supposed to be filled with love. Mom baking cookies. My sister and I pounced on Dad when he came home from a rough day at work. Somewhere with endless laughs, smiles, arguments, and everything in between.

But to me, this place was a haunted house. There are many secrets, so many lies, so many tears and abuse behind the simple plaster walls.

The wind sifted through my hair, blowing silently in the wind. I debated going in, knowing I told Sarge I would meet him at the clubhouse. Usually, I would ride with him everywhere, but he told me he had club business, and I had a shift at Poppy Oaks. I was now trusted enough to drive… with a tracker installed in that plus location sharing on my phone. Baby steps.

I decided Sarge could wait a few more minutes. This was something I had to do. Just like Nyla faced her demons with her not-so-grandma, I had to do the same. I had to say goodbye to the walls that destroyed me.

It was just for closure. Nothing else.

I looked around the exterior, and the front window was shattered. I couldn’t tell if it was a shootout or if someone’s body got thrown through the pane of glass again. I sighed, putting my hands on the rusted railing before stepping up the one lone step that had droplets of dried blood cascading freely. The storm door and wooden door to the front were gone. It was worrisome but not enough to deter me from what I had to do.

The living room was trashed. Blood, strewn papers, and gun casings littered the carpet. The knot in my throat was thick, and I had trouble swallowing past it. What happened here? All the memories of men beating each other lifelessly plagued my mind, and with shaky steps, I did my best to walk away, but nowhere I walked was clear. Whatever happened here, it was a bloodbath.

This wasn’t the house I grew up in. How did it go from a family of four to this? I looked at the bloodstained living room carpet. Thoughts of silent nights where Jordyn and I dressed up in tutus and performed amateur shows for them. They clapped and laughed. Encouraged us. They tucked us in bed with kisses on the forehead and told us goodnight. Or building forts and watching our favorite movies cuddled up together as a family.

I felt my heart break at how happy I was. I was blind to what was going on behind the scenes with my parents. With each year that passed they just couldn’t pretend anymore. Life had beaten them down and took the smiles and laughter with it.

Dad worked a typical job. Mom worked part-time while Jordyn and I were at school. My childhood memories of them were that they were the hero and heroine of my life, but as I got older, the reality of who they are warped. Long hugs turned into long shouting matches. Looks of love turned into looks of hatred. I’ll never forget my dad’s last words. I don’t think he realized I heard him, but I did, and they sank deep inside and stitched themselves to me forever.

“I can’t afford her fuckin’ hearing aids. It’s not my fault she’s the way she is! Fuckin’ expensive bitch. We’re gonna get CPS called on us if we don’t do something about her quickly. Only one way I know she can get the money for it, and it’s a win-win for us.”

I was fifteen at the time. I knew they were talking about me. My stomach sank hearing my dad call me that. He was never like that before, but the financial stress that came with my disability was weighing heavy on him. They walked out of the kitchen not knowing I overheard him. His smile was fake. The crows feet deeper on the corner of his eyes. I remember the way his eyes crinkled, smiling as he told me he and my mother were going out. My mom gave me a hug before she left. Maybe I should’ve suspected something since my mom wasn’t a hugger. Especially not one where she squeezed me so tightly my bones popped. I relived the moment they walked out the front door. The way the door clicked closed.

They never returned home after that.

He had a temper and was impulsive, much like Sarge was. I was worried that Sarge would do what my dad did and just get to the point where he felt like the light at the end of the tunnel was the only way he saw a bright side to life.

I shuddered, throat swelling as I tried to combat the burning in the backs of my eyes. The burden I felt after I heard my dad’s last words sank in. Mom didn’t say anything. She never did. She went along with whatever he said or did. It wasn’t a problem usually. They were never mean or abusive to us. They were amazing parents who always told us they only planned for one child and were blessed with two.

Well, one-and-a-half, according to Jordyn. A jab that always hurts.

I guess parents are only prepared to have a normal, healthy child. It was understandable. You couldn’t prepare for the disability your child had until they were born and diagnosed. I got sick when I was an infant, taking away my ability to hear. My mom told me she cried when she talked to me, and I wouldn’t even look at her. My being deaf was a financial burden since Dad’s insurance didn’t cover it. I spent until I was four not able to hear, but I was put in a special class to learn sign language. I remember on my fourth birthday, instead of a party, we went to the audiologist to be fitted for my first pair of hearing aids. I was so overwhelmed by all the sounds that I actually cried. But my parents and doctors helped me transition to hearing everything.

But even if I was a normal girl besides the inability to hear without help, Jordyn still told me I was her half-sister. Not that we had a different parent, just that having a disability made me half a person. Which wasn’t true. People with disabilities are stronger than the average person. We had to learn how to adapt to the world in a different way than others who were blessed with working ears, eyes, and legs.

We were still worth it. We still mattered.

But the more Jordyn told me I was half, the more I began to believe I was lesser than. And that I had to do what others wanted if I had a chance of being accepted. My parents were unaware of the torment Jordyn and her friends caused, and I was already burdening them so much that I just let it happen.

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