Page 31 of Stained In Sin (The Twisted Trilogy #1)

Evelyn

I stand on the platform. The room smells like bourbon and mint, with a hint of smoke. I feel the air thickening around me, as if a demonic presence is near. I look out into the crowd, and everyone wears a black mask. The same mask that he wore.

I look down and see that I am naked, and my flesh is raw, and crimson stains drip onto the stage. I begin sweating profusely, scrambling to cover myself. When I turn to run, I run into a man—the same man who gave me his card at the club.

“Why didn’t you call me?”

His voice echoes through my head. I press my eyes shut, wanting to end the agony. When I open them, I stand in the middle of a field, surrounded by the smell of spring. The air smells of flowers and fresh rain.

I look around, seeing nothing but happiness. I hear the crack of a twig. I spin around and I see Dante holding a long, bloody knife. He stares at me blankly as he swings the blade back and forth.

He smiles at me for a second before his words cut through the air.

“I told you to run, princess. Don’t make me say it again.”

I turn to take off, but I run right into a mirror. The mirrors are all around me, like a maze. I walk forward and run into another .

“You can never escape me.” His warning comes before I feel a burning in my stomach.

I look down and see the mark he gave me, bleeding fresh blood. I look up into the mirror, panic gripping my chest.

“You will always bleed for me.”

I gasp for air as I sit up in my bed. Holy fucking shit. I look around my room, and everything is okay. I am okay. No, you’re not.

I get up and go into the bathroom to take some Advil. My ribs are still sore—my head throbs. My wound hurts, but it’s healing.

I slip back into bed, not wanting to do anything today. I have stayed in my room since he dropped me off. I came out only twice yesterday to eat, which I could barely do. I feel sick to my stomach. The disgust and shame that fill my body are torturous.

He said he had something to do yesterday. Which I assume had to do with Lacey. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. I threw up probably eight times yesterday, until nothing except bile came up.

I thought I was fine, but I’m not. I’m an emotional disaster. I turned my phone off yesterday morning, not wanting to face any form of reality. My parents came home yesterday, and I avoided them. I don’t want them to see what I have become.

What is bothering me the most is that he didn’t try to make any contact with me yesterday.

I know my phone was off, but that certainly wouldn’t stop him.

He acts like I don’t exist. Like he didn’t fucking cut me open.

He is so hot, then cold. He says one thing, and his actions say another.

He doesn’t make any fucking sense. You don’t make sense either.

He hurts you, and you miss him. He makes you jealous, and you retaliate.

You say you hate him, but you give yourself to him.

The pressure builds behind my eyes as I think about how fucked up I am. I remember when all of this was a fantasy. A fantasy that ended with me having my happily ever after. I was fucking wrong. The unwanted tears fall.

I will never be happy. There will always be a fucked up part of me that likes the chaos. I will never be okay. He will always hurt me. He got what he wanted. He destroyed me.

I roll over and bury my head into my pillows. I can cry until I pass out again. At least when I’m sleeping, I don’t have to feel.

* * *

I wake up at 10 P.M. according to my wall clock. I managed to avoid leaving my room all day, but now I will be awake all fucking night.

I haven’t checked my phone at all in the last two days. Maybe you should. Perhaps he tried to call you.

I grab my phone from my nightstand and turn it on. My phone starts buzzing immediately. Dante sent me one message:

Don’t forget who you belong to.

Attached is an image of me lying on the forest floor, naked, bloodied, and ready for him. I swipe out of the message before tears gather in my eyes.

I have a message from Harmony:

Just call Astra back. She’s not okay.

I quickly navigate to Astra’s messages. I have 11 unread messages. Two were from the day Dante came to kidnap me:

Why aren’t you answering me?

You didn’t go back out last night, did you? Please tell me you are okay!! !

The subsequent messages are from last night.

Call me now… It’s urgent.

Evelyn, please. I need you.

Amara is dead. Please call me back.

You want everyone else to care about you, but you don’t give a fuck about anyone else.

Dante has really fucked you up.

Don’t ever expect me to be there for you again.

Amara was your sister too you know. She deserved better.

She would be so pissed at you right now if she knew you ignored her death for him.

He’s just using you. He will never love you, Ev. I tried to tell you, but now you’ll have to figure it out on your own. I’m done. Fuck you.

My hand shakes as I grip my phone. My throat closes in on itself. This isn’t fucking real. I am having another nightmare. Amara isn’t dead. She can’t be.

I quickly go to Astra’s Instagram and I see her post from last night. She died yesterday, and I was too busy sulking to know. You didn’t know. It’s not your fault.

It is my fucking fault. I didn’t even tell Astra that I was okay. Knowing Astra, she is probably on a bender. She hasn’t had a relapse in a w hile, but I’m sure this sent her into one. I go into the bathroom and wipe my face with a towel. Trying to suppress my tears to make the call.

I stare at myself in the mirror, wearing a sports bra and my shorts. The angry markings are slowly scabbing. I fucking hate myself.

I hover above her name and press call.

The phone rings and gets forwarded to voicemail.

I call again.

And again.

And again.

Nothing. I have to see her. I need to apologize. I grab my bag and slip on my tennis shoes, sprinting out of my room and downstairs.

The soft light in the kitchen makes me freeze in my tracks. It’s after ten, everyone should be sleeping. Confusion peaks its way into my brain. Dante .

I walk into the kitchen, expecting Dante to be waiting for me at the island, but I stiffen in place when I lock eyes with my mother and father.

My mother is standing with her arms crossed, and my father has both hands placed flat on the countertop. Each of them has a concern etched in their face.

“Evelyn, we need to talk,” my mother starts.

I roll my eyes, not wanting to have this conversation.

“Are you going to hate me, too? Astra already does. She’s the only one who can ignore people for days and get away with it.”

“WHAT THE HELL IS ON YOUR STOMACH?” my father raises his voice.

I cross my arms over the markings. I wore my sports bra so the scabs wouldn’t come off. I had a sweatshirt in my car that I was going to slip on. I thought they would be asleep. They see you. They will know what you’ve done.

“Honey, he is not good for you. What happened to our sweet baby girl?” I can see the hurt in my mother’s eyes.

“Did Astra tell you that? I can make my own choices, Mom.”

“You will not disrespect your mother in my fucking house,” his tone is clipped and edged with warning.

“You know Evelyn. I know I am not mistaken. I raised you with morals, values, and goals. I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but I do know that it won’t end well. Not for you. Not for him.”

My lip is quivering, tears threatening my eyes. I go to speak, but before I can, my father continues.

“You know what the fucked up part is, Evelyn? He showed up here this morning. He had the audacity to walk into my house and demand to see my daughter, the same daughter who has never once mentioned him. We found out about him from Astra. She said she thought you were messing with a dangerous man. By the looks of the wounds on you, I’d say she was right. ”

The tears are steadily falling of their own accord. I can’t speak. I didn’t think about telling my parents. I knew they would disapprove. Now they see me for what I am.

“You have two choices. You can leave him, or you can pack your bags. I don’t know who the fuck you are, but you sure as Hell aren’t the daughter I have raised for 21 years.

” He goes to leave the room, and my mother doesn’t spare me a glance.

They are disappointed in me. I can’t say I blame them. All I wanted was to feel alive.

* * *

It’s now midnight and I have packed three suitcases. I’ll have to come back for the rest. They gave me two choices, but a part of me doesn’t want to let him go… I can’t. He silences my inner turmoil.

I hover over the hotel phone number on my phone. Don’t go there. Call him. He will save you. He always does.

I quickly swipe to Dante’s number and press the call b utton.

“Hello.” His tone is dull.

I go to speak, but I pause. Not wanting to admit the truth. I have no one.

“Evelyn, are you in trouble?” His tone has shifted to concern.

My heart melts at his protectiveness.

“Y-yes. I…..I need somewhere to stay…”

“I’ll be right over.”

“No… I can drive.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll leave the gate open.”

I carry my bags down the stairs and out the front door. My family might hate me for who I have become. They just loved the fake me. The me that pretended to be okay. I was never OK. This is always the life I wanted: the excitement, the pain, the obsession.

I just hid my demons for too long. Now the Devil has welcomed them with open arms.

I start driving and leave all of my problems behind me. What’s the point in denying who I am?

* * *

I arrive at Dante’s house, and he waits for me on the front staircase. He wears no shirt, showcasing his tattoos that snake up his chest and neck. His pants are sitting low on his hips. He looks immaculate.

I park my car and get out to grab my bags. He grabs my arm, spinning me around. His touch is soft and comforting.

He trails his fingers lightly over his name, and he tilts his head. His gaze travels up to my face.

“Are you okay?”