Page 34 of Trained In Sin

Saphy

I can't stop shaking.

It's been three hours since Matthew dropped me at my building, three hours since Sebastian told me it was "done" in that terrifyingly calm voice, three hours since I watched the man I thought I loved reveal himself to be a killer.

My hands tremble as I try to pack a bag, throwing clothes into a suitcase without any real plan. I just know I can't stay here. Can't be in this place where Sebastian knows how to find me, where he might come back to explain or justify or….

The thought makes my stomach lurch. I run to the bathroom and dry heave over the toilet, my body rejecting everything about what I witnessed tonight.

When I close my eyes, I see it again. Sebastian's hands around Damon's throat. The moment when Damon's struggles stopped. The satisfaction in Sebastian's eyes afterward.

I killed for you. I protected what's mine.

The memory of his words makes me sick all over again.

My phone has been buzzing constantly, calls from Sebastian that I don't answer, texts that I delete without reading. I can't bear to see what justifications he's offering, what explanations he thinks will make murder acceptable .

Because that's what it was. Murder. Not self-defence, not protection, cold blooded killing after the threat had been neutralised.

Yes, Damon had become violent. Yes, he'd tried to hurt me, to take me somewhere against my will. But he was unarmed when Sebastian killed him. The knife had been kicked away; Damon was already beaten and helpless.

And Sebastian strangled him anyway.

I grab my phone with shaking hands and call the one person I trust completely.

"Beth? I need help."

"Saphy? Christ, what's wrong? You sound terrible."

"Can you come get me? Please? I can't... I can't be here right now."

"Of course. Where are you?"

"My flat. But Beth, there's something you need to know. About Sebastian. About what he…." My voice breaks. "He killed someone tonight. I watched him do it."

The silence on the other end stretches so long I wonder if the call dropped.

"Beth?"

"I'm coming. Right now. Don't go anywhere, don't open the door for anyone except me. Do you understand?"

"Yes. "

"Saphy, are you hurt? Did he hurt you?"

"No. Not physically. But Damon is dead and Sebastian..." I can't finish the sentence.

"Twenty minutes. I'm leaving now."

The call ends, and I continue throwing things into my bag. Clothes, toiletries, my laptop, anything I might need for an extended stay away from here. Away from Sebastian and the violence that follows him like a shadow.

I was so stupid. So fucking naive. I let myself be seduced by the intensity, by the way he made me feel desired and protected. I ignored every red flag, every warning sign, because I was caught up in the fantasy of being wanted that desperately.

But protection and possession aren't the same thing. And a man who kills for you today might kill you tomorrow.

The thought makes me move faster, more frantically. What if Sebastian decides I'm a liability? What if he realizes I could testify against him? What if his idea of protection extends to silencing potential witnesses?

By the time Beth's knock comes, I'm in full panic mode. I peer through the peephole to confirm it's really her before unlocking the three deadbolts I installed after Sebastian's first break-in.

Beth takes one look at my face and pulls me into her arms.

"Oh, sweetheart. What happened?"

The story comes out in broken pieces as she helps me finish packing. Damon's escalating stalking, tonight's confrontation, the violence, Sebastian's cold execution of a helpless man .

"He just killed him, Beth. After Damon was already beaten, already down. Sebastian looked at me afterward like it was normal, like murder was just another Tuesday evening."

Beth's face grows darker with each detail. "And you're sure Damon is dead?"

"I'm sure. Sebastian didn't even check for a pulse. He just... knew." I zip up my suitcase with more force than necessary. "Then Matthew started making phone calls about 'cleanup crews' like this was all perfectly routine."

"Jesus Christ." Beth sinks onto my bed. "Saphy, this man is incredibly dangerous. You realize that, right?"

"I'm starting to."

"No, I mean it. What you're describing isn't a crime of passion or a fight that went too far. This is organised crime level shit. Cleanup crews? Matthew coordinating like it's fucking normal?"

The words hit me like ice water. She's right. The efficiency, the calm coordination, Matthew's immediate transition into damage control mode, this wasn't Sebastian's first time dealing with a dead body.

"How many people do you think he's killed?" I whisper.

"I don't know, and I don't want to find out. We're getting you somewhere safe, somewhere he can't find you."

"Where? He has resources, Beth. He found me everywhere else I tried to hide. "

"My cousin has a cottage in the Cotswolds. Middle of nowhere, no internet, no cell service. We can lay low there until we figure out what to do next."

"What if he follows us?"

"Then we call the police."

I shake my head immediately. "I can't. If I testify against him, he'll…."

"He'll what? Kill you too?" Beth grabs my shoulders, forcing me to meet her eyes. "Saphy, listen to yourself. You're talking about a man who commits murder and has people to help him cover it up. This isn't someone you protect by staying quiet."

"I know that. But I also know what he's capable of now. And if I cross him..."

"You've already crossed him by running away. The question is whether you're going to let fear keep you trapped in his orbit forever."

She's right, but the fear is so overwhelming I can barely think straight. Everything I thought I knew about Sebastian, about myself, about the choice I made, it's all been shattered by three hours of violence.

"I need time to think. To process what happened."

"Fine. But we're doing it somewhere he can't reach you." Beth picks up my suitcase. "Come on. My car's downstairs."

We're almost to the door when my phone buzzes with a text. Despite every rational thought in my head, I check it .

I know you're scared. But you don't understand what Phillips really was. What he was planning to do to you. Let me explain. - S

I show the message to Beth, watching her face harden.

"Classic abuser tactics," she says flatly. "Making excuses, claiming you don't understand, insisting he was protecting you. Delete it."

But something about the message nags at me. The certainty in his voice when he said Damon was more dangerous than I knew. The way Matthew seemed unsurprised by everything that happened.

"What if he's telling the truth? What if there was more to it?"

"Then he should have called the police instead of committing murder." Beth takes my phone and powers it off. "Saphy, this is exactly what he wants, for you to doubt yourself, to think there's some justification for what he did. Don't let him manipulate you even from a distance."

She's right. Even if there were things about Damon I didn't know, it doesn't justify Sebastian taking the law into his own hands. It doesn't excuse the cold satisfaction I saw in his eyes as he watched someone die.

We practically run to where Beths car is parked on the street, both of us paranoid about being seen.

But nothing happens. We drive through the empty London streets in silence; both lost in our own thoughts.

"I fell in love with him," I say eventually.

"I know. "

"I actually convinced myself that his obsession was romantic. That being possessed by someone that completely was what passion looked like."

"It's not your fault. Men like Sebastian are experts at making their dysfunction look like devotion."

"But I chose him. Over safety, over sanity, over Damon." The guilt hits me fresh. "God, Beth. Damon is dead because I left him for Sebastian. If I'd just stayed, if I'd never gotten involved with Sebastian..."

"Stop." Beth's voice is firm. "Damon escalated to violence and stalking all on his own. That's not your fault. Sebastian's choice to kill him isn't your fault either."

"Isn't it? If I hadn't chosen him, if I hadn't involved him in my drama…."

"Then Damon might have kidnapped you tonight. Or worse. You said yourself he was becoming unhinged."

The truth of that sits uncomfortably with me. Damon had been genuinely frightening tonight, talking about taking me somewhere "safe" where I could "recover" from Sebastian's influence. The way he'd hit me, the casual violence of it...

But that still doesn't justify murder.

*

"I need to send Sebastian a message," I say as we reach the motorway. "Let him know I'm not coming back, that he needs to stop looking for me."

"Are you sure that's wise?"

"I'm sure that leaving him wondering where I am is more dangerous than making my position clear."

Beth hands me a burner phone she'd picked up at a petrol station. "Use this. And be very careful what you say."

I compose the message slowly, trying to strike the right balance between firm and non-threatening:

Stop looking for me. I'm safe and far away from you. Stay away from me, or I'll go to the police. - S

I read it three times before sending, then immediately turn the phone off.

"Think it'll work?" Beth asks.

"I think it'll buy us time to figure out what comes next."

The cottage is exactly as Beth described, isolated, primitive, the kind of place where you can disappear completely. We arrive just as the sun is rising, both of us exhausted but too wired to sleep.

"So what now?" I ask as we carry our bags inside.

"Now we lay low. We think. We plan." Beth locks the door behind us and draws the curtains. "And we figure out how to keep you safe from a man who thinks murder is an acceptable solution to his problems. "

I sink onto the ancient sofa, finally allowing myself to feel the full weight of what's happened. I chose passion over safety, and it led to violence and death. I thought I was being brave, choosing what I wanted instead of what made sense.

Instead, I was just being stupid.

And now Damon is dead, Sebastian is a killer, and I'm hiding in a cottage in the middle of nowhere, afraid to go home or forward or anywhere at all.

"I really fucked up, didn't I?" I say quietly.

"You fell for someone who hid what he really was. That's not fucking up, that's being human."

But as I sit in the dim cottage light, replaying everything that led to this moment, I can't shake the feeling that the signs were always there. The controlled violence, the casual way he talked about eliminating obstacles, the complete certainty that he could take whatever he wanted.

I just chose not to see it because I was so desperate to feel something real.

Now Damon is dead, and I'm learning that some choices can't be undone.

Some mistakes have permanent consequences.

And some men are exactly as dangerous as they appear to be.