Page 36 of In the Light of Sin

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“I know it’s tough, Jos.” Nyla rubbed my back, but it did nothing to comfort me. It’s been two days, and I’ve barely eaten or slept, and I knew I was worrying her.

“You wanted to get away from Mitchell, but when you tried, you discovered the truth about him.” I refused to even acknowledge her adoptive dad as a human, let alone give him a name. “But I want to be with Sarge. Why doesn’t he want to be with me?”

Her zoned-out eyes and answering silence proved she had just as many answers as I did. She knew I hated the stereotypical ‘he doesn’t realize what he’s missing’ bullshit speech. Instead, she went for something else. “It’ll all work out.” Her empty promise only made me shiver with disbelief. “It always does.”

I gave her a wry smile. “Life never works out for me, Ny.” It’s why I tried so hard to make it work for me. Through trial and error, my tenacity has lost me many battles…

I refused to let it make me lose Sarge.

Nyla kissed me on the cheek before standing up off the bed and gently adjusting her hair behind her ears. “I’ll check on you in the morning. Try to get some sleep, okay?”

I nodded numbly, not bothering to watch her as she walked out of the room, leaving me alone with the most dangerous thing of all—my thoughts.

Hours passed after Nyla had shut the door to my new prison. Hours of sleepless overthinking, lying still. I tapped my fingers on the bedspread as an impulsive plan began to seed within my brain. No one ever said I wasn’t reckless when I formed these dramatic impulses.

Silent as a cat, I tiptoed to the guest window. Ever so gently, I said a silent prayer as I shimmied the window open, letting in a gust of fresh night air. I hesitated only a moment before throwing my leg up and over the windowsill, planting my foot firmly on the roof.

Sarge may have crushed my heart, but I’d be returning the pieces he fractured.

Chapter 10: Sarge

I threw back the scotch in my glass, hissing an agitated breath through my gritted teeth.

The silence within my cabin had always been a comfort to me before. Now, after today’s events, the silence was so deafening, it felt as if it was closing me in—sitting on my chest, adding weight brick by brick. With her gone, these shots of liquor were the only things keeping me from ripping my skin off.

I didn’t like this newfound silence.

Every time I tried to clear my mind, I would tumble into this daydream that was starting to tear me to shreds inside. Every morning she’d been with me, I’d catch a glimpse of her from the corner of my eye. Her little feet padded out of her room, only wearing my t-shirt that was swallowing her whole. She’d greet me with sleepy green eyes and a warm, lopsided smile. I’d already had her coffee ready for her–as I habitually had every morning –a splash of coffee in her cup of creamer. I’d make my usual sideways comment about how she liked it made, and her morning giggles would light her face up. Every morning, it seemed to stun her that I had gone out of my way to do something as small as make a cup of coffee for her.

Because no one’s done the small things for her in years. I began to look forward to the smiles she gave me, going as far as to drift off to them in my sleep, turning my usual nightmares into warm dreams of sunshine.

The other night at the Catacombs, I just snapped. I knew my strength and what I was capable of doing.

Instead of snapping her perfect neck, I channeled all that aggression into her pretty pussy. I had no idea that quick fuck would flip my world inside out.

And what a big fucking mistake that was. Now that I had her, I was counting down to when I could feel her wrapped around my cock again. I was addicted to her. I’d always craved solitude…

But now I was craving the girl who ran the flower shop. The woman who would give her last dime to a trying soul.

I’d witnessed it firsthand.

I shoved my hands in my pockets, thanking whatever God there was that I was able to get out of this “mandatory” boys’ night out. Even if I was now banned from Calypso, that fucker deserved it. People knew they couldn’t touch me. Everyone in Calypso tonight got a show when I slammed my fist into that guy’s face, knocking out a few of his pretty boy teeth.

I was walking down the opposite sidewalk, hearing voices from across the street. I shifted my head to look, stopping in my tracks.

The street lamp shone down on her like an angel’s light casting down from Heaven as she helped the homeless person take a sip from the bottle of water she’d clearly bought for him. I didn’t like that she was touching him, even if it was to help him drink since he evidently had a few screws loose. I watched them close just in case he tried something, I told myself, not because the woman who glowed under the dim light caught my attention like the golden gates of Heaven.

Something I never thought I’d see until now.

She pulled out her phone, mouth moving as she talked to someone on the other line before a car pulled up a few minutes later, and the homeless man got in. I knew what she did. She spent her last dime putting that man in a hotel room for a few days. Even from this distance, I could see the financial stress her good deed put on her, but knowing that the man would hopefully have a good meal, shower, and warm bed made it worth it in her mind.

Not me, though.

I didn’t know her name. I didn’t care about people. I only cared about living in the memories of the demons that walked around me that only I could see, their mocking stares and crooked smirks, making a bullet to the head tempting, but I knew I wouldn’t do it, couldn’t do it. My world was full of cruelty. Kind gestures were null and void, only used as a form of blackmail or manipulation.

Seeing the woman with blond hair that glowed under the dim street light gave me a minuscule hope that the world I left behind when I joined the army was still there.

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