Skin of a Sinner: A Dark Childhood Best Friends Romance

8 YEARS AGO

Roman: 14 years old – Isabella: 12 years old.

“Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop,” I hiss, hitting my head against the concrete.

Maybe if I keep throwing myself against the wall, someone will let me out.

I know they can hear me screaming. I know they hear me banging on the door at night. Or is it morning? I can’t tell.

I don’t know anything anymore.

You don’t know anything anymore. You don’t know anything anymore. You don’t know anything anymore.

“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” I scream. The skin of my knuckles tears against the wall, ripping more and more each time I swing. I can’t see the blood through the darkness. Can’t see the bone. I need something other than the voices. I need sound or light or taste. I need pain.

My muscles strain. Sweat gathers between my shoulder blades. It’s not enough.

I’m as helpless now as I was when I was four.

Useless.

Pathetic.

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I can still picture the chest freezer, stark white next to heavy brown boxes. The inside, silver in the light, black in the dark. And it was so dark. So quiet. Empty.

My chest still aches from the way my knees pushed against my chest while I clawed at the four walls. I remember wondering if my parents were finally playing with me as they lowered me into the freezer, then thump before I was trapped in the coffin. I tried to stand, but my head hit the lid. Tried to move my legs, but they were stuck bruising my ribs. I screamed until I lost my voice, and cried until there were no more tears to shed.

I don’t remember what my own parents look like, but I remember the freezer and how the voice in my head screamed over and over: I want to get out! I want to get out! I want to get out!

Now I’m back in the dark because of another fucking piece-of-shit parent. I can stretch my legs and move, and the ceiling is well above my head. But there’s something here that wasn’t in the empty freezer: the bone deep cold that starts as a chilling ache, before everything becomes numb.

And I stop feeling anything else. I hit harder and harder, until pain thunders through my hand, but I don’t stop. More.

Once I’m out, I can see Bella and she’ll make it all better.

No.

Wait.

She’s fucking gone, too.

She left me like my parents did.

She didn’t even say goodbye.

No.

She’s coming back.

She’s going to open the door and let the light in.

She has to come back.

I need her.