Page 6 of In the Light of Sin

The headlight illuminated a clearing in the trees, exposing a simple one-story house. The light reflected off the huge window panel and illuminated a quaint wraparound porch, a single rocking chair occupying it.

It felt… lonely. If I didn’t know this was his house, I wouldn’t think anyone had lived here in years.

Sarge pulled his motorcycle right up to the steps before cutting the engine, his long legs stabilizing the bike so I could get off. I reached for my hearing aids, putting them back in so I could have our usual one-way conversation with one another. “I expected the woods, but I didn’t expect your house to be this small. Do you even fit?”

He shrugged. “I live simple. Bigger on the inside.”

“I would hope so. I’m just imagining you sleeping on the floor with your feet hanging out the door. Can’t be comfy.”

He snorted as he walked to the door, knowing I would follow him. He opened the glass storm door before putting his thumb on a black panel. It lit up as a ping sounded and the lock unlatched. He opened the door, the cold air from the inside of the house like a blast chiller from the muggy night air.

Walking inside, my head went left to the open-concept kitchen. White refrigerator, white stove, white countertops… white everything. And not one speck of dirt or dust. I could still smell the bleach he used to clean lingering in the air. I didn’t fail to notice that the ceilings were high to accommodate Sarge’s height.

As my eyes scanned to the right, I noticed there was no dining room. The kitchen stretched into the living room, where a TV was hanging on the wall with a solitary white recliner.

I felt like I was in a sanitarium instead of a person’s home. I could feel the beginning of a migraine due to the strong chemical smell that still lingered.

I did one last sweep around the open floor plan of his home, and he was right. It looked a lot bigger on the inside than on the outside. Even though the light reflected off the white like a beacon, it was almost blinding.

The space was as unwelcoming as Sarge was, the single furniture a statement that it was a cabin for one. A simple message that screamed,‘I live alone and want to be alone.’

I heard the clang of his keys as Sarge methodically hung them on the key rack that was bolted to the door above an entryway table. He stood straight as my confusion morphed into fear as he pulled a gun out from a hidden compartment on the wall. “Stay here.”

I stayed stock still, willing myself to not even twitch as he went around the small living space, then down an unknown hallway. I could hear his daunting footsteps echo and the door squeak open as I suspected he entered what I assumed was the only bedroom, making sure no one was in there. His footfalls became louder as his large body passed the threshold into the entry area, tucking the gun in the back of his jeans. “Clear.”

I assume that means the house was clear of someone hiding in here. I guess it would be a concern living out in the middle of the woods like he did. Lost hunters and runaway kids and all. I watched as he walked into the kitchen. He squatted down under his kitchen sink and pulled out a container of disinfecting wipes before wiping a section of the counter off, then tossing it in the trash bin before turning to a cabinet I knew I couldn’t reach and pulled out a… bath towel?

What kind of person keeps bath towels in a kitchen cabinet? A psychopath, that’s who.

He laid the plush towel over the area he had just disinfected before turning his head toward me. “Come here.”

“You really are crazy, aren’t you? What sane person keeps bath towels in the kitchen cabinet?”

He ignored me. “Come. Here.”

“Do you know how to say please?”

“Now,Joslyn,” his raspy voice snapped back.

I was debating on listening, his threat earlier coming to mind. Would he really touch me? He’s made it clear he didn’t want to. Any other day, and I’d play with him a bit, but after the night I had, I wasn’t exactly in the mood to be manhandled in case his threat was true. I was overstimulated enough.

I slowly made my way to the counter, feeling his eyes that I’d never seen before on me. I wasn’t really coordinated, and the counter came up to my waist. This should be interesting. This house truly was made for a giant.

I bit my lip as I turned to face him, planning on using my hands to push my body to sit on the counter—

Strong, calloused hands gripped my hips. It was odd with some of his fingers missing as he lifted me up like my weight was nothing, placing my ass on a towel on the counter. In this position, I was taller, my eyes coming up to his scarred ones that slightly slipped from the darkness.

He recoiled his hands once I was fully seated, like my touch burned him. He dug in his pocket, grabbing hand sanitizer and putting it on his hands as he said, “Take your shirt off.”

I blinked, obviously not hearing him right. “Excuse me?”

“Take your shirt off. Need to see if he gave you a bruise.”

Instinctively, my hands crossed my chest, cheeks heating up. “No way! He didn’t hurt me—”

“He put his fuckin’ hands on you, Joslyn. He hurt you.”

I looked down. I couldn’t deny that. He didn’t physically hurt me, but a mental reminder would always be at the back of my mind. “Not physically—“

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