I, Death

Sin Eater: Chapter 13

It took a long time for Peter to fall asleep that night. Thoughts of Jacob, the man he was very nearly friends with — as well as all of the other friends he had killed — came back to him, flooding his mind.

Donnie, Jagdish, Robbie, Rainy, Gwen. Chad, Sarah’s father, Miss Hamilton, Aunt Shelly, Uncle Bob.

All of them dead.

Because of Peter.

Their faces swirled in his mind.

But he must have fallen asleep, because a muted thump woke Peter some time later.

He sat up in his bed. The clock radio on his night table read 2:13 am.

He heard the muted thump again. It was coming from down the hall. He got out of the bed and, wearing only his briefs and a t-shirt, the standard clothes he normally slept in, he slowly crept to the door.

Inching the door open, he saw a shadow moving along the hall, accompanied by quiet footsteps.

Whoever it was, they were coming closer, he would be able to see them in another second or two.

Then she appeared.

Peter almost fell on his ass.

Because the woman creeping down the hall was the spitting image of Sarah.

Okay, not necessarily the spitting image.

But she looked uncannily like the girl who still held his heart captive.

Sure, she was older looking, and her hair was the wrong colour: it was a golden wheat, where Sarah’s was a raven black. And this woman’s face was weathered, worn and tanned; even in the faint light of the hall the crow’s feet around her eyes were pronounced.

So, yes, she looked remarkably like Sarah, but it couldn’t be her.

It couldn’t.

Particularly since this woman was dressed unmistakably like a hooker in a black dress that barely ended at her ass cheeks and cross-thatch stockings held by a thick black garter strap at the front.

She moved through his line of vision quickly, but Peter’s head was swimming with thoughts of Sarah.

Who was this woman?

He had to keep watching her.

It was like getting a dose of Sarah.

He opened the door a little more and stuck his head out, watching her move down the hall.

She walked like Sarah.

Yes, even though she was wearing heels higher than Peter had ever seen Sarah wear, she moved so much like the girl he loved that, from behind, if he didn’t know any better, Peter would have sworn it was her.

His heart swirled with an intense pang of longing and, strangely, comfort.

Peter’s life had seemed to be like riding a sea of pain while forging through a fog of horror. But through the murkiness of it all, there was always Sarah, with fond memories of her cutting like a beacon through the murk.

If Sarah were truly here, and if she still loved him, then maybe all of it, all of the death, all of the suffering, all of the needless pain would be all right. All the death in the world would be all right if only Sarah loved him.

As he watched, she stopped three doors down from Peter’s, the door belonging to a guy Peter knew only as ‘Dave,’ and rapped quietly on it.

The door opened, Dave muttered a few words under his breath, then Sarah quietly slipped into the room and the door closed behind her.

Peter shook his head. He’d just thought of this woman as Sarah, as if she were Sarah, the woman he loved.

What if she was?

What if it were her?

Peter stepped out into the hall and took a few tentative steps down the hall.

What if it were her?

“Sarah?” he whispered very quietly under his breath.

What if?

Placing his hand on the door handle, Peter slowly turned it and pushed the door in a crack. He saw Dave, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers, sitting on the bed, leaning back on his elbows and grinning.

In front of him, the woman, Sarah, gyrated in a dance to some unheard music, and then began to peel her top off slowly; the start of a sensual strip tease.

No!

Peter stumbled back, shaking his head, trying to tear the vision out of his eyes.

This isn’t Sarah. It’s a hooker.

Plain and simple.

He had to keep telling himself this. This isn’t what Sarah has reduced herself to. Not his Sarah, not the love of his life; not his one and only true love.

He turned and headed back down the hall toward his bedroom.

That was when a cold deep laughter from Dave’s bedroom stopped him dead in his tracks.

He would recognize the laughter anywhere; in particular because it sounded so very much like his own when killing.

He stood in the hall, waiting for more. But there was no other sound.

Suddenly, the door opened, and the woman came out, seeing Peter.

She stopped.

Looked him dead in the eyes.

“Peter? What are you doing here?”

[The rest of this novel will continue to be rolled out on a regular basis here on Wattpad, but if you can't wait to read it, the print and eBook versions are available through all major online retailers. Publisher Atomic Fez's page (with links) is here:  http://www.atomicfez.com/book-catalogue/9781927609033.html]