Unleashing Sin

by A. M. Wilson

  I didn’t see it then, but now that I’m looking at it through pain and inebriation, I can see it. Why didn’t the man shoot Richard? Elias? Did he miss me on purpose?

  It was a setup. It had to be.

  My pulse beats at a dizzying pace as the memory assaults me. The images of him lying there explode in my mind, and I know I have to stop. I have to stop thinking. I can’t keep reliving that moment over and over. It’s going to drive me to insanity.

  I’ll drink myself there instead.

  A bottle of liquor, a quiet room, and a chair. That’s how I deal. That’s how I always deal.

  ***

  The door thuds against the wall with an almighty bang, and Elias’s voice booms across the room. “Man, Sin. What can I do?” he asks, and if I weren’t already six sheets to the wind, I would swear his voice cracks.

  A creak releases from the old wooden chair I’m sitting in as I gently rock it with my heels on the floor. “Not a goddamn thing.”

  Christ, was that my voice? After I left Genna by the bar, I took my bottle of scotch to the office for some peace and quiet. Some mind-numbing silence.

  If someone could mute the damn ghosts in my head, that’d be fuckin’ great.

  Literal fuckin’ ghosts because I swear to God, I can hear Molly screaming at me. Just like she was the last night I saw her. Screaming at me to leave her alone. To get away from her. I embarrass her. I control her.

  Get away.

  Give her space.

  Leave.

  Her.

  Alone.

  So I did, and she died. And Jesus Christ.

  “Who the hell is screaming?” I groan, pushing myself to my feet and then immediately falling back into the chair. The old bolts screech in protest to my deadweight.

  “I don’t hear anything,” Elias replies while scrutinizing me.

  “Don’t look at me like that, asshole. I hear screaming.”

  Elias immediately raises his hands in surrender. “Okay. Stay here, and I’ll go check it out. Take a little nap and sleep that shit off. I’m not carrying your ass home.”

  I may or may not have responded with my mouth, but both my middle fingers give his retreating back a salute before I slip into an uneasy doze. The next thing I know, my door is slamming once again, and Elias is yelling at me to wake up.

  As I pry open my heavy eyelids, I swear I must still be dreaming. Elias cradles a woman; her frame wrapped so tightly into a ball she almost looks like a child. But it’s the paleness of his face that gives it away. He wouldn’t look that way for just anybody. Sure, he’s a decent guy, and he cares about his fellow human beings, but this is different. I can feel it.

  “Brother,” I choke out, the word rough like the quiet grate of sandpaper along the uneven grain of wood. I slip out of my chair and onto my knees, scrambling in my rush to get to my feet.

  His arms tremble as he carries her toward the black leather sofa. When I step forward in approach, he pauses, his eyes lifting to meet mine.

  “I-I’m not sure.” He answers my unspoken question. “I found her in the alley propped against the building. She needs help, but brace, brother.”

  My heart thunders against my rib cage as he tenderly lays her down. It’s now that I notice the almost black hair covering her face is matted with dirt and what looks to be blood. A rage so fierce consumes me, and I almost snap. A blackness coats my veins in the vile oil that’s tainted my blood for so long, and I don’t think it’ll ever come out.

  “Molly?”

  Elias sweeps her hair from her face, and all the alcohol I’ve consumed today rises up my throat with a vengeance. I howl in fury and fall to my knees, choking on the putrid taste while at the same time trying to contain the urge to crawl to her. As much as she may need me, I need to go after those fuckers. There’s hell to pay, and after all these years, it can’t wait another second.

  All thoughts of retribution wipe clean away when she retches violently from the sofa, and I get the first and last glimpse of her face that I ever want to see. Bloodied and bruised. Scrapes and cuts cover every single beautiful inch. Dirt smears and fluids crusted.

  Time stops as the image of her face tattoos itself into my mind. Each beat of my heart is the pierce of the needle inking her image onto my soul. The battered and broken face of my single worst failure in life.

  Her face is so swollen, it’s unrecognizable. Her eyes, two puffy black creases, and the lashes are hardly visible. The left cheek is disfigured and misshapen while the right has a long cut from eyebrow to ear. Smears of dried blood and dirt color her otherwise pale skin.

  What irony that the day our father takes a bullet to the head, my sister’s broken body lands on the doorstep to his bar?

  Obviously none.

  But what do I do about it? Trade one revenge for another? The vengeance I held an eternal flame for passes onto his torch?

  Do I let his death go silently now that I have Molly back, or do I avenge my father as tirelessly as I hunted Molly’s kidnappers?

  Can’t say I had much respect for the fucker.

  “Sin,” Elias calls, and I stop debating shit that doesn’t matter right now. “I need to go down and talk to Richard. See what to do. Stay with her, and I’ll be right back.”

  I try to speak, but there’s a lump in my throat. I clear it and try again.

  “Yeah, you go. See what he says. I’ll stay here.” Crawling to the sofa, I turn and sit with my back against the edge. My head is near her stomach where the scent of the leather couch barely masks the putrid odor of an unwashed, soiled body. The vomit I only just choked down comes crawling back up again.

  In my peripheral, I can just make out her face. Not that I want to. God, the sight is like a punch to the gut. I deserve it. My mind is screaming, Stare at her, fucker. Look what you did.

  So I look.

  Then I look away.

  And look again.

  How can one person be so close to heavenly while at the same time look like hell?

  Forcing myself to breathe deeply through my nose and relax, I drop my head back onto the leather seat and close my eyes. She’s here. That’s enough for right now. When Elias gets back, we’ll take her to the hospital, then home. We’ll clean her up and care for her injuries. I swear on my fucking life that I’ll do whatever it takes to heal her.

  Chapter Two

  Sin

  “You got a room at your place? It’s the safest. I have a doc I can call to make a house visit.” Richard’s voice breaks through my alcohol-induced fog, but the words don’t register.

  “You hearing me, Sin?”

  Joints pop and creak as I shift my useless ass off the hardwood floor of the office. I must have slipped down when I fell asleep.

  “No.” I scrub a hand over my face.

  “Got room for Molly? It’s best we bring her to your place.”

  That wakes me up. I planned on having her home, but she needs to be looked at first. She could have some serious injuries.

  “What about the hospital? Look at her. She’s a fuckin’ mess.” My arm is a wild blur of color as I gesture angrily at the sofa where Molly’s still unconscious. “What about X-rays or MRIs or other tests? She’s been gone for years, Richard. I’m takin’ her in.”

  “You can’t,” he replies. He cracks his knuckles together and crosses his arms over his chest. “This operation is big scale. You know this. They have people inside places like that. How often you see a prostitute swing by a hospital for a checkup, eh? Never. She’d be picked up and beaten again as soon as she got out. Or worse, dead. It’s not worth risking. Let’s get her home, get Doc over. If anything’s more serious than cuts and bruises, we’ll figure it out.”

  I study the swirls of mud on my boots as if they contain the answers. Getting nowhere fast, I look at Elias.

  “Take her home,” he says carefully yet firm. “I’ll pull the SUV around. Richard, can you carry her?”

  “I got her,” I nearly snarl, but for fuck’s sake, she
’s my flesh and blood. I failed to protect her years ago, but I’m not about to fail again.

  “That half bottle of scotch might say differently,” Elias replies, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

  “Go get the car, fucker. I got her.”

  He snorts at my remark, and I have the urge to throw what’s left of the scotch at his retreating back. If he wasn’t such a damn good friend, I might have more than considered it.

  Nerves electrify as I near Molly. The thought of touching her after so long nearly brings me to my knees again. If I believed in a God, I’d be thanking him. I don’t know why those bastards let her go, but I’d sell my soul to ensure her safety from here on out.

  I believed her to be dead. The statistics were there. Forty-eight hours after being taken by Gutierrez, she was sold, or she was dead.

  When we couldn’t find her, I prayed she was dead.

  But something didn’t feel right. She didn’t feel departed from this world. My heart wouldn’t accept the fact that my baby sister was gone. I’d know if she was. I always believed I’d feel it. And I knew I wouldn’t rest until I found her and took down those responsible for stealing her from me.

  Remembering the hours of pain, bloodshed, and tears, I tentatively slide my hand beneath her frail knees, hooking them over my forearm and repeat the action with her upper back. I hoist her into my arms as though she weighs nothing more than a feather pillow. The ridged bumps of her spine dig into my supporting hand, causing a wave of goose bumps to rise over my flesh. Using my chin, I push the hair away from her face as carefully as I can and nuzzle her there, wishing I could see her features for what they’re supposed to be. The swelling is too much; she doesn’t even look like Molly. Somehow I know it’s her, though. I just know.

  Have her features softened to look more like our mother? Does she still have eyes exactly like mine? Does the dimple in her right cheek still peek out, an obvious tell when she’s trying to hold back her smile?

  “Let’s go. He’ll have the car ready by now,” Richard says, pulling me from the moment.

  I carefully begin navigating the stairs with him following behind when he speaks again.

  “You didn’t have to lay into Genna like that.”

  “Don’t.”

  “She was a mess when I got here—ˮ

  “Man, I said don’t. I told her to back off. I told her to wait for you. I was half drunk and a quarter dead. She deserved it for opening her goddamn mouth.”

  He’s silent for a beat. We round the corner toward the back door and enter the alley where Elias is waiting with the black SUV. “Well, I don’t think you’ll be seeing her again. She was pissed when I confirmed your pop left everything to you. Gold digger through and through.”

  “Good. Bitch don’t need to be hangin’ around. ’Specially now that Molly’s back.”

  Elias rounds the back of the vehicle and opens the rear door for me. Sliding in with Molly still in my grasp, I am unable to release her even in the tight confines of the back seat. It’s as if I’m afraid she’ll disappear again right before my eyes. As if she’s an apparition, and I’m about to lose her all over again. My biceps convulse at the thought.

  ***

  My pop’s house is lavish and outfitted in top-of-the-line fixtures and appliances. The bitch decorated the house with showy styles meant to brag about her newly acquired wealth. Under normal circumstances, I would have cleared this place out before bringing Molly back here, but my apartment is a shithole. I have my housewarming gift in my arms, so I might as well move in and have the welcome home party all at once.

  “I’m taking her upstairs to Dad’s room. Follow me.” My arms tighten around her frail body as I jog up the stairs as quickly as I can. She’s still unconscious, and it’s starting to make me nervous. “How long until this doc gets here, Richard?”

  “Five minutes, maybe ten. I told him it was an emergency, so he left immediately.”

  “Get him on the phone. Tell him to make it five or less,” I demand, turning left down the hall and another left into the master bedroom.

  “Hold up. Let me grab some towels to lay beneath her,” Elias says, passing me to enter the master bath.

  “Fuck that. I don’t care about the sheets.” I set her down gently on the expensive silk, and it worries me that she doesn’t stir. My heart pounds. I’m desperate enough to grab her by the shoulders and shake her awake. She’s here, alive, but it’s not enough until I can see her open those beautiful brown eyes. I need to see more than just her body to know she’s going to be okay.

  Elias steps up beside me, but he’s smart enough not to touch me right now. I’m about ready to explode. “Hey, why don’t you take a walk? Wait for Doc to get here and give them some privacy.”

  I roll my shoulders to alleviate the tension gathering there. He’s right. I gesture toward the door with my head. “Let’s go wait.”

  We walk down the stairs to the first floor in silence. A knock on the door greets us when we reach the landing. I cross the threshold in three strides and yank the door open without checking who’s outside. Blame the alcohol or the events of this afternoon, but personal safety has gone out the damn window, not that I had much of it to begin with. I may or may not have forgotten my pop got his head blown off today, and now I’m standing in his foyer. Not the place to be if bad company comes to check him out.

  “Took you long enough. Upstairs to the left.”

  Doc shoves past me. “Nice to see you too, asshole.”

  “Thanks for coming,” I belatedly apologize. “A problem just occurred, so let’s make it quick.”

  The silver-haired Vietnam vet gives me a nod before hauling up the stairs with his medical bag in tow. Having served with my father and Richard, he’s a trusted friend, but one who I do not know personally. That doesn’t mean I haven’t seen him enough to know he’ll do the job he’s paid to do and do it well.

  “What problems do we have now?” Elias asks, pulling me from my thoughts.

  “We need a safer location. Won’t be long before they come to check this place out. I’m sure my father had identification on him. They’ll find it when they search his body.” I avert my eyes and clench my jaw so hard my back teeth hurt as they grind together. I try to avoid registering the look of sympathy Elias shoots my way. He gets me. Pop and I weren’t close, but that doesn’t mean his death doesn’t hurt. You can’t repair a relationship when the other person doesn’t fucking exist anymore.

  “Where do you want to go? Your place?”

  “My place is a hellhole,” I cut him off. Muttering, I add, “Don’t need Molly there.”

  Elias crosses the foyer and locks the door before turning back toward the stairs. He claps me on the shoulder as he passes. The gesture is comforting even though I’d never say that aloud. “Guess we’re headed to my place. Pack a bag.”

  “With what shit?” I yell after him. This isn’t even my fucking house.

  Well, it is now, but none of my stuff is here. The reminder of all that I’ve lost burns inside me until I have no choice but to release it. That release comes in the form of my fist flying through a sheet of paint and plaster.

  “Fuck!”

  I punch it again before sending my booted foot flying into the entryway table.

  Elias’s hand clamps down on my shoulder, but I shake him off. I didn’t even hear him come back. I thought he went upstairs.

  “Whatever you need, I’m here, but you gotta keep it together. She’s up there and doesn’t need to see you flying apart.”

  “Right,” I mutter without feeling. Shouldering past him, I head up the stairs.

  “What’s the damage, Doc?”

  The sight of Molly laid out sends the liquor swirling again. I’ll take every drop of discomfort as the beginning of my penance for what I’ve done.

  “She looks like hell, but I’m not finding much for internal injuries. Her stomach is soft and not distended. There’s evidence of some previous fractures that haven’t healed pr
operly. Look at her left arm.” He carefully lifts it from the bed, showing me the slight bend in her forearm. “A few other places are like that too. However, I’m not finding any fresh fractures. The swelling seems to be superficial. Cuts, bruises. Someone beat the living crap out of her, that’s for certain.”

  “You think?” I reply snidely.

  If he hears me, he doesn’t respond. “She’s also been drugged. Heavily. Track marks.” He turns that same arm over, exposing the scabbed flesh riddled with holes.

  “What do you think she’s been on?” Elias asks.

  It’s like I’m in a different world, so I tune them out. My fingers graze the marks on her pale skin. The contact is like a lightning bolt to my stomach. My knees give out, and I crash to the floor beside the bed, wrenching up my own sleeve and laying my arm next to hers. We’re twins with our matching trail of inflamed abused flesh.

  “Heroin,” I choke out. The words are hardly loud, but in this silent room filled with ghosts, I know they hear me.

  “Possibly. Could be any number of drugs.” Doc’s voice is professional and sad at the same time.

  I cut my gaze to Elias before moving it to Doc, cowardly avoiding Molly’s face. “You’re right. Could be any cocktail, but considerin’ the availability and cost, I’d guess heroin. I should know,” I mumble under my breath.

  My stomach pitches with shame and guilt. Molly was adamantly against drugs as a kid. There were no second chances if she found out a friend was a user. That person got cut from her life so fast it was like they never existed in the first place. And she didn’t dwell on it. That was my Molly. Her heart was strong and stubborn, but she had her beliefs and held them tightly. Nothing could sway that girl.

  I’ve betrayed her. I know what it feels like to shoot up, and I welcome that high with open arms. Molly would never, and to know she’s had it forced upon her almost has me spraying the floor with vomit.

  “I’d like to get her in for a CT to be on the safe side. It’s the only way to rule out swelling in her brain. If I wait until she wakes up, it might be too late.”