Sins: A Dark High School Bully Romance Read online

  Sins:

  A Dark High School Bully Romance

  Candace Wondrak

  © 2019 Candace Wondrak

  All Rights Reserved.

  Cover art by Adina Milica at The Write Wrapping | Best Covers Online

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  Chapter One – Celeste

  Chapter Two – Celeste

  Chapter Three – Zane

  Chapter Four – Celeste

  Chapter Five – Celeste

  Chapter Six – Celeste

  Chapter Seven – Zane

  Chapter Eight – Celeste

  Chapter Nine – Thorn

  Chapter Ten – Celeste

  Chapter Eleven – Zane

  Chapter Twelve – Celeste

  Chapter Thirteen – Celeste

  Chapter Fourteen – Celeste

  Chapter Fifteen – Celeste

  Chapter Sixteen – Zane

  Chapter Seventeen – Celeste

  Chapter Eighteen – Thorn

  Chapter Nineteen – Celeste

  Chapter Twenty – Celeste

  Chapter Twenty-One – Celeste

  Chapter Twenty-Two – Zane

  Chapter Twenty-Three – Celeste

  Chapter Twenty-Four – Thorn

  Chapter Twenty-Five – Celeste

  Chapter Twenty-Six – Zane

  Chapter Twenty-Seven – Celeste

  Chapter Twenty-Eight – Celeste

  Chapter Twenty-Nine – Thorn

  Chapter Thirty – Celeste

  Chapter Thirty-One – Zane

  Chapter Thirty-Two – Thorn

  Chapter Thirty-Three – Celeste

  Chapter Thirty-Four – Zane

  Chapter Thirty-Five – Celeste

  Chapter Thirty-Six – Celeste

  Chapter Thirty-Seven – Thorn

  Chapter Thirty-Eight – Celeste

  Chapter One – Celeste

  Every person is capable of evil.

  Every human can sin, from the ones in the highest government positions to the lowliest of the low, the dredges of society. Even priests are capable. I had a TV, so I knew what had been going on in the world for the last few years. I missed a lot, and at the same time, I didn’t miss much. Things hadn’t changed. People still made mistakes, killed one another. Killers and rapists still walked free because they were high achievers and from good families.

  I would know about that last part, trust me. I was Celeste Chambers, and I was from a good family with a whole lot of money.

  The past few years, I wondered if that was why he took me, kept me locked up. My family would pay a whole lot in ransom money for me, but I didn’t think that’s what he wanted. At this point, I wasn’t sure about any of it. Things were still unclear to me, even now, and I wasn’t sure what that said about me, or about Him.

  How did I get out? I walked, strangely enough. I walked right out of the bunker, slipped out of the room that had been both my prison and my life, and eventually found my way out, heading down the long, winding driveway until I found the road. It was an old industrial complex, I think. An abandoned property, for I saw no cars. No footprints. Only dust and decay.

  My shoes were new, an ungodly type of uncomfortable. It was the first time I’d worn shoes in ages; I’d gotten used to feeling the world with my toes and the soles of my feet. My clothes were new, too—though they were stained, now. Nothing lasted long here, except me. I had years under my belt.

  I didn’t have a mirror, and my reflection on the TV wasn’t a good one, so I didn’t know what I looked like. My blonde hair was long and scraggly, I bet. It came down to my butt, having not been cut. He never gave me a razor, so my legs were hairy, as were my armpits. I was pretty sure Mother told me women shaved all those things, once I got my period, when I was ten. I became a woman at a very young age.

  My mind drifted as I walked along the road. A few cars passed me, one or two of them honking because I was on the road, where I shouldn’t be, but this area had no sidewalks. This wasn’t a residential space. I was in the middle of a business district, and it was hard to know where I was going.

  The sun seemed too bright. The colors of everything too strong. My eyes had gotten used to the dull colors of my room, the fluorescent lighting. That small, ten-by-fifteen foot space had been my home for so long, so many days I lost track. It was only because of the TV that I was able to know the day, not to mention the year.

  Five years.

  I was gone for five years, and now I was about to return to a world that had moved on from me.

  Oh, I was on the news for months after my disappearance. He let me watch it, and sometimes He sat with me, watching it with me. Everyone was shocked that someone could take me. Me, Celeste Chambers, a pretty white girl from a well-off family in the rich suburbs of America. Me, a girl who went to a school with so many cameras you couldn’t even go to the restroom without being watched.

  No one knew, of course, that I was not the innocent girl everyone thought I was. There was something bad inside of me, something wrong. It made people do terrible things, made sinners out of the most pious of men. I was temptation made flesh, and it was because of that dark thing inside of me that I was taken.

  But now I was free. I was free, let loose in a world I didn’t recognize.

  After what felt like hours of walking, I found a restaurant. The sun was high in the sky, so I couldn’t tell the exact time. After noon, definitely. I headed off the road, trailing up the concrete parking lot as I went to the restaurant’s front door.

  I glanced down at my hands before reaching for the door, finding that they were stained, too.

  Oh, well. I was here; there was no turning back. Plus, I was starving. He didn’t bring me any food today.

  I went inside.

  It was a restaurant my parents never would’ve gone to. The kind that any family could afford, with fraying booths and high-top tables, and a bar that sat in the middle of the restaurant. Most of the seating was empty. Maybe it was a weekday, and most people were at work.

  An older woman wearing a dark uniform came up to me, instantly rattling off, “Are you waiting for the rest of your party, or…” Her eyes finally spotted the stains on my clothes, and she was unable to sputter out anything else. She looked around, gripping the small stand that had the restaurant’s seating chart, as if hoping someone else would come, save her from me.

  My lips were dry, cracked. I was beyond thirsty after all that walking—I must’ve walked for a few hours, at least. Felt like an eternity. “I’m hungry,” I croaked out. “And thirsty.”

  I must’ve sounded broken enough, for the older woman’s expression fell, and she gestured for me to follow her. She took me to a corner booth, the booth right by the kitchen, where I’d be watched. I didn’t care if I was watched; I just wanted to eat and drink and fill my belly.

  The woman knelt near the table, and she asked me in a soft, almost motherly tone, “Are you alright, honey? Are you running from someone? Is there someone we should call?” Even as she asked, I knew they already would. I mean, look at me. I definitely merited a few calls.

  All I said was “I’m hungry.”

&nb
sp; She nodded, standing. Before she went into the kitchen, I saw her talk to a man wearing a different type of outfit—the restaurant manager? I pretended not to notice the way he stared at me, even after the woman disappeared into the kitchen, hopefully to get me food. He was calling someone, pulling out his cell from his pocket, all the while watching me like I held the secrets to the universe.

  I didn’t. I didn’t know much, really. I didn’t know what was so special about me, besides my family. I didn’t know what it was about me that made the monsters come out. I was just me, and I’ve always been me. Maybe some people were simply born unlucky, the most unfortunate ones.

  In less than ten minutes, I had a plate of chicken fingers and fries, along with a glass of water. It was as I was sucking down the water when I saw the manager move towards the door to the restaurant, greeting the two police officers that had just walked in.

  They were here for me, I knew. I didn’t care; I knew I’d see men in blue soon enough.

  So I ignored the officers walking up to me, focusing on my food instead. The food would only get cold, after all. One of them stood beside me, the other slid into the booth across from me. I devoured my food like a rabid animal, not even bothering to pause to look at the police officers. It was like I hadn’t eaten in days, which was a lie. He’d fed me last night. He never starved me, except for today.

  But today was a weird day all around.

  Both male, one older, and one younger. The older one was the one who stood beside me, his thumbs in his belt, showing off both his badge and his gun, along with a few other things. The younger one was the one who sat across from me, staring intently at me.

  I doubted anyone would recognize me. It’d been years, and I bet most of America had forgotten me by now. Still, having their eyes on me only made me feel an extreme kind of uncomfortable. Maybe I’d grown used to what He did when He was with me. It never felt like He was watching me, even when He sat with me.

  “Care to tell us what happened, Miss…” The older cop trailed off, waiting for me to give him my last name. He sounded like a teacher, using the same tone of voice.

  “Chambers,” I answered him, tearing my gaze away from my food, which was already half-eaten. The older cop had a big mustache, the kind you saw in movies. I wondered if he could feel it on his lip, if it itched.

  It was the younger cop’s turn to speak, “Did someone try to hurt you, Miss Chambers?” When this one said Miss Chambers, he didn’t sound like a teacher. He sounded…tentative, unsure. The very opposite of confident.

  When I looked at him, I found the younger cop wasn’t that much older than me. Mid-twenties, maybe. White skin, eyes of a pretty hazel and light brown hair that was buzzed short. He was cute, I think. Really, it was hard to tell what I thought was cute and ugly, because I’d spent the last few years alone, with nothing but my imagination and the TV. And Him, but He…He wasn’t supposed to count.

  Needless to say, seeing things on the television versus seeing them in person were two totally different things. I think…I think he was cute.

  Cue the teenage wondering: am I cute?

  Probably not. Not until I got a makeover. Not until I went home. The problem there was that I didn’t want a makeover, and I didn’t want to go home.

  When I didn’t answer, the older cop said, “We need to know why your shirt and your arms are covered in blood.”

  Right. Because the stains on me weren’t just stains. They were a dark maroon, though on my white skin the maroon looked redder. Dried up, too. My gaze fell to my arms, studying the blood on them, and I muttered, “I don’t remember.”

  The older cop gave me a perplexed look, while the younger cop stared intently at me, his hands on the table, folded over each other. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

  “We need to bring her in,” the older one said, reaching to the radio on his chest. As he turned his back to us, talking into his radio, the young one was almost too focused on me. Or maybe that was just because I wasn’t used to having eyes on me, especially eyes that belonged to a cute young man.

  “My room,” I whispered.

  “Your room?” the cute cop echoed.

  I nodded once, adding, “It’s where He kept me.” I kept eating, figuring there’d be no warm food once they took me to the police station. The workers who weren’t hustling to take care of their tables had gathered around, trying to look inconspicuous, but I knew it wasn’t every day a girl stumbled into their restaurant covered in blood.

  “Chambers,” the young cop spoke, recognition almost dawning. “What’s your full name?”

  “Celeste,” I said. “Celeste Chambers.”

  The young cop turned his stare to the older one, and for a moment, neither one of them spoke. Did they remember me? My name had probably been on the mouths of everyone in America at one point or another, but that was years ago. Time had moved on, and time was not a gentle mistress. She was a bitch, and she was about to show me that nothing in my life was the same as it was five years ago.

  Chapter Two – Celeste

  They brought me to the police station, sat me in a cold, lonely room with nothing but a table in it. A table, a few chairs, a camera in the corner, and a mirror I knew they could watch me through from its other side. An interrogation room. I sat on the chair facing the door, waiting for someone else to come in, to question me more. They made me change out of my clothes, even out of my new shoes, and I currently wore some extra clothes from the department. A t-shirt that said POLICE on the back between the shoulders, and some dark blue sweats, not to mention a pair of shoes that didn’t fit as well as the ones they’d told me to take off.

  I missed those shoes.

  Was it wrong that I missed those shoes, just because He gave them to me?

  I wondered how long it would take my mother to get here. I knew they had to have called her already. It would be a joyous reunion, something worthy of the national news. I knew, soon enough, my face would be plastered across every TV in America again.

  Celeste Chambers, alive and found. Safe.

  I ran a hand down my arm, feeling the need to shrink into myself. Too much attention on me. I didn’t want it.

  The same young cop who’d sat across from me at the restaurant came in, carrying a bottle of water. He set it down before me, his hazel eyes watching as I reached for it, unscrewed the cap, and took a long swig.

  “I don’t think I introduced myself before. You can call me Jacob,” he told me, his voice too kind, too understanding. He thought he understood what I went through, he thought he knew what happened to me, but he didn’t. No one did. “I want to help you, Celeste, but I need you to try hard to remember. Any little detail might help.”

  I gave him a nod as I set the water bottle down.

  “How did you get out?” Jacob asked.

  “I walked.”

  My answer made him smile. Okay, I decided, definitely a cute one. Or maybe that was just because my hormones were going crazy after being locked up for so long. Kept away from others when I should’ve been dating and kissing and having the time of my life before adulthood came and grabbed me.

  It was stupid of me to think that, because even before He took me, my life wasn’t normal.

  “So he just…let you go?” Jacob asked, cocking his head. “Why?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “He never spoke.”

  “What does he look like? His age, race, height, build—do you know anything that might help us nail him down?”

  I shrugged. “I never saw His face, but He’s white. I could tell from His hands.” He didn’t look old, judging from the skin on those hands…but at the same time, how much could you really tell about someone from their hands alone? “Tall, but that’s really all I remember.”

  “You never saw his face?”

  “He kept it covered with a mask.” Yet again, I shrugged. “I don’t even know what color hair He has.”

  “But you know for certain it was a man who kept you?”
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  I looked at Jacob. “Yes. Flat chest, strong arms. It was a man.” That much, I was sure of. That was about the only thing I was sure of at this point.

  Jacob breathed in, filling his lungs with air and causing the uniform on his chest to become tauter. He had muscles, but not overly so. “Do you remember what the mask looked like?”

  “A white rabbit, with a hood behind it,” I said. Rabbits were my favorite animal; I didn’t doubt the choice was made on purpose. Everything about it had been deliberate; I wasn’t stupid enough to think otherwise.

  “Do you think you could draw it out?” He was grasping at straws, but if he really wanted me to draw the mask the man wore, I would. Once I gave him another nod, he went on, “This place you walked out of…do you know where it is?”

  “I don’t know. I walked for a while. Maybe…” I would’ve said more, but I heard loud, stern talking in the hall.

  Jacob glanced over his shoulder, and he gave me a gentle smile before getting up. “Excuse me,” he said, leaving the room, leaving me alone, yet again. I was used to being alone by now, though. It was safer than being around people.

  My eyes fell to my hands, and I wondered why I was both content with being alone, and scared of it. I knew, more than most people, what kind of monsters hid themselves in the dark. Even when you were alone, you were never truly alone. Someone was always there, watching, waiting, ready to hurt you when you weren’t looking.

  He never hurt me. If anything, He saved me.

  It wasn’t Jacob that came back into the room, it was the older cop, and he was followed by a frantic, pale woman who I instantly recognized. Astrid Chambers, my mother. She wore a knee-length yellow dress, pearls around neck, her blonde hair curled and pinned to her head. It looked like she just came from the country club or something, and I slowly got to my feet, feeling…strange.

  I was supposed to be happy, seeing my mother again, for the first time in five years…but I wasn’t. As messed-up as it was, I’d grown used to my small room, my confinement, my keeper. Being thrown back into this life would take a lot of adjusting, and I wasn’t sure if I was that strong.