Page 4 of Sins of the Hidden

The shrill protest of hinges sent ice down my spine as V turned the knob. An uneasy feeling crashed into me—as if the ghosts of unfortunate souls trapped here had just been released, their desperation for escape tangible in the dusty air.

V led me down wooden stairs that creaked in accusation with each step. Each board threatened to collapse beneath our weight. The light faded at a dizzying rate, as shadows consumed the stairwell.

The final step felt akin to crossing into a world where nothing living belonged. Decay and ash curled in the air, thick with metal and rot that coated my tongue.

V hit something near the wall. Harsh light bloomed overhead, searing my eyes. I blinked rapidly, half-hoping I'd go blind before I had to see what was down here.

A choked sound tore from my throat as I registered what I was looking at. Red brick walls rose around a sunken pit—unadorned, industrial, and all too real. This was the center of V's world, and whatever happened here hadn't cooled yet.

Within rested a small platform with timber blackened and still breathing heat from recent activity. A corroded metal handle protruded from one side while a temperature dial monitored the entrance. A single elastic band lay curled in front of the crematorium, too clean for this place. Next to it, a scuffed leather shoe—still laced, still warm. As if none of them had mattered.

The sight of the crematorium cracked something inside me. Was this where he got rid of them? A machine built to erase what remained when he finished. This was why he brought me here. To show me not what he hid.

But what he was.

My arm wrenched against his hold, pain shooting up to my shoulder as I fought to break free. The noise of my frantic struggles echoed off the walls like laughter in a tomb. Furious sobs tore from my throat as my pulse raced, my heart was trying to claw its way out. The walls appeared to shrink, reality constricting as perspiration formed along my hairline.

His grip loosened for just a moment. I dug my heels against the surface and yanked again, a sound escaping through gritted teeth. The exertion proved worthless–it merely prompted him to strengthen his hold, effortlessly pulling me toward him. My form launched forward, colliding with his solid torso like ocean waves against granite.

"Stop."

My feet faltered as he pulled me roughly toward a worn blanket thrown haphazardly on the concrete floor. A relic of normalcy in this chamber of horrors.

"Sit." Eyes blacker than anything human directed me to the spot on the floor. My body obeyed before my mind could rebel, sinking onto the rough fabric. My back locked straight, neck craning to study him.

He towered above me like a sleep paralysis demon—dark and vacant of emotion, existing only to terrify. I remained ensnared under his deadly watch, begging for an answer, knowing he didn't speak that language. I would have to spell it out, risk giving voice to my fears.

"But you said you were going to take me to Hell." My voice fractured on the final word, breaking into jagged shards.

He looked around with casual indifference—none of it strange, none of it terrifying. Not to him. As if the scorched metal and ash-stained tools surrounding us were mundane household items. As if the smell of burning and decay wasn't thick enough to choke on. His calm was more horrifying than any rage could have been.

Blinking fast—too fast—my vision blurring as cold sweat stung my eyes. Each inhale came jagged, shallow—a battle I was losing breath by breath. My gaze darted frantically to the massive industrial ovens behind him, their metal maws gaping open, still radiating heat.

His eyes found mine again, holding them captive with unnerving intensity. "My home,"

"Y-You live here?" Terror clawed up my throat as I looked around. The space was oddly vast but achingly lonely - every inch covered in someone's final moments. The concrete floor wore a fine coat of dirt and darker stains I refused to name. A particularly large dark patch caught my eye, my brain instinctively rejecting its true nature even as copper tinged the air. A shudder ripped through me as my fingernails scratched against the cold concrete, seeking any form of escape.

He leaned against the wall like he didn't just kidnap me. One leg crossed, posture relaxed, but his eyes never left me. "This is my room."

"Why do you sleep down here?" His profile cut a striking figure against the dim light, dark hair gathered at his nape, the black surgical mask hooked over his ears.

"Familiar."

"Why did you bring me here?"

Silence. Nothing but his unsettling gaze stripping me bare from behind that surgeon's veil. My flesh prickled beneath the intensity of his scrutiny. As always, I pleaded and received no answer, abandoned to suffocate in silence thick enough to drown in.

"Why are you covered in blood?" The words tumbled out, panic making me reckless as my eyes caught dark stains, catching the low light filtered down here. He touched, he took, he watched—but never answered. My voice grew smaller, more desperate. "What do you want from me?"

Dark eyes roamed over my body. Drawing my knees to my chest, I hoped the defensive posture would deflect his unblinking stare. "Bright color."

I was thrown off by his response. "W-what?"

"When you're happy, you wear bright colors." He took a calculated step forward, causing me to instinctively scramble back until the rough brick bit into my spine. "When you're sad, you wear dark clothes." Another step closed the space between us, my heart stuttering, every inch squeezing my lungs from the inside. "Why are you sad?"

A memory flashed–the hunter green turtleneck I'd chosen for Joslyn's graduation, black jeans a shield against the world's judgment. The chill outside had been an excuse, but V had seen through it. Heat crept up my neck at his observation, at how he'd noticed something so intimate yet mundane. My chin tuckedinstinctively to my chest, a futile attempt to shield myself from the weight of his gaze. "I'm not sad."

His head tilted, slow and deliberate. Forgetting how to breathe, the fine hairs on my neck stood up. My hands shook, chest tightening as the truth clawed its way out. "I'm scared."

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