A Sinner’s Truth: Chapter 1

One year ago

My vision blurs, a side effect of the whiskey I’m drinking like it’s a fucking lifeline. Because right now, it is. It’s the only way I can see her. And I need to see her face. I need to talk to her.

Shelli, my fiancée. My dead fiancée. I held her beaten, broken, lifeless body in my arms for the entire night. Praying for a miracle. I kept waiting to wake up, certain that it had to be a nightmare. Why would anyone take her from me? Especially the night before our wedding. They didn’t just take her, though. They took our unborn child.

We’d just discovered Shelli was a few weeks pregnant. We were over the moon about starting our life together as a family of three. And now, that dream is dead and buried six feet under. Except she’s not. She’s still here. I can see her.

“I need you to come back,” I tell her.

“I can’t do that, Santo,” Shelli says. Her expression sad and sweet at the same time.

“Gio got married. It was meant to be us.” I’ve put on a smile all fucking day. I’ve held my own shit in for the sake of my older brother. He’s happy, and I want him to be happy. He deserves it. And his bride, Ellie… She’s perfect for him.

It fucking hurts that I didn’t get this. I imagined what it would be like. Our first dance, the first time I kissed Shelli as my wife. There was supposed to be a forever of firsts for us. And seconds. And thirds.

That’s the thing about forever, though. It’s not fucking real. A fairy tale that’s sold to us. All the concept of forever does is get people’s hopes up, only to destroy us right down to our souls.

“Santo, you need to dig,” Shelli says. “You need to know the truth.”

“The truth about what?” I ask her. I hear the door to my room open. I don’t need to look behind me to know it’s one of my brothers.

Gabe is standing at the end of the bed. I’m sitting on the edge. Afraid to move. Afraid if I make the slightest gesture to reach out to her, to touch her, she’ll disappear again. “Santo, you good?” he asks.

I turn and glance at my younger brother. “Shelli’s here. Come and say hello, Gabe. She’s back,” I tell him before returning my gaze to Shelli. She’s still so beautiful. With long brown hair, pale green eyes, and skin like porcelain.

“Hi, Shelli,” Gabe says, lowering himself beside me on the bed. He sees her too. I’m not going fucking crazy. For weeks, I thought it was just me…

“She’s come back,” I tell Gabe.

“Yeah? Did she say why she left?” he asks.

The relief I was feeling is gone in an instant. “No. Why’d you leave, Shelli?” I question her.

“I didn’t want to, Santo. I didn’t choose to leave you. You need to dig. Find the truth,” she repeats.

“What’d she say? I didn’t hear her,” Gabe presses.

“She said she didn’t want to, but it’s okay because she’s back now,” I tell him. It’s going to be okay. She’s back. Whatever happened was all just some fucked-up dream. And now she’s back.

“Oh, good. Maybe you and Shelli should get some rest, mate. We’ve got a plane to catch in a few hours.” Gabe stands from the bed.

“Yeah, good idea.” My body falls backwards as exhaustion finally takes over. “Make sure Gio knows Shelli’s coming home.”

My head thrums as the plane touches down on the tarmac. I drank myself into oblivion last night. This morning? Whatever day it is or was. It was worth it, because I saw her. I’ll keep drinking myself to a slow death if it means I’m one day closer to being with her again.

I don’t want to die, despite what everyone thinks. I know Gio has me on suicide watch. It’s why there’s always at least one of my brothers lurking around me 24/7. The thing is, I wouldn’t do that to them. I live and breathe for my brothers.

I fucking love Shelli, without question, and the pain that’s consuming me from her loss is the worst fucking thing I’ve ever felt. It’s a pain I’d never willingly put onto my brothers. So their constant babysitting is pointless.

I wonder who gets the lucky job of watching me today? They’ve been taking turns, almost like a roster system has been put in place. I wouldn’t put it past Gio. He’s nothing if not prepared for any situation.

The moment I step off the jet, I head for the back of the second blacked-out SUV. Marcel climbs in next to me. Guess that answers my question. “What’s on the agenda today?” he asks.

“Sleep,” I groan as I lean back against the headrest. I need to fucking sleep. And then I need to drink until I see her again. I need to talk to her. I don’t understand what she wants. What she wants me to dig up… What truth she is fucking talking about or what good it will do me now.

Shelli was always too innocent for this life. I should have kept my distance from her. I thought I could protect her. Keep her safe. I didn’t know the threat to her would be so fucking close to home, though. It’s my fault she’s not here. It’s my fault I can’t see her beautiful smile, hear her laughter. It’s my fault our child was taken from this world before it even got the chance to be born.

One of my biggest regrets is that Gio was the one to do it. Put a bullet between our father’s eyes. I should have done it myself. I was so lost in the shock, in the grief over finding Shelli the way I did, that I fucking froze. When she needed me most, I fucking failed her. I should have been the one to get vengeance for her, and I didn’t.

And I’ll never know why. The old man was always a monster—that much I know. But I never thought he’d stoop so low. I shouldn’t have been surprised. He took out his own wife when we were all little kids. Gio and I are the only ones who remember our mother. The other three were too young. That’s not to say I remember much about her. But I do recall how she was frightened of her own shadow. She was scared, all the time. And I get it now. I know what she was so afraid of. The monster she married.

As soon as the car pulls to a stop in front of our house, I jump out and walk straight upstairs to my room. The only good thing about this place is that Shelli was never here. I don’t have memories of her here.

I throw myself down on my bed, my head still pounding as I close my eyes. I groan when there’s a knock at my door and the handle turns. “What?” I don’t bother looking up.

“You sleeping?” a deep voice asks.

“No, I’m baking a fucking cake, Marcel. What the fuck does it look like I’m doing?” I grunt at my brother.

“Fucking hell, peachy mood you’re bloody in,” he snarks back.

I lift one eyelid to look at him. “Are you going to stand there all day? You know, we can get you help for those creepy stalker tendencies.”

“Fuck off. I’m heading out. Call if you need anything,” he says.

Huh, guess he’s not my babysitter after all. I nod and salute him as he clicks the door shut and I close my eyes again.

Something sharp kicks me in the ribs. My hand snaps out, wrapping around whatever it is. Then my blurry vision focuses on a leg—a thin leg—and a sharp, pointy-toed shoe. My eyes move upwards until I’m glaring at the one person in this world who hates me just as much as I hate myself.

“Why the fuck are you kicking me?” I grunt while releasing my hold on her ankle.

Shelli’s older sister kicks me one more time before I roll over and stand up. “Why are you sleeping out here? And you smell like a fucking brewery,” she hisses.

“Nice to see you too, Kristen.” I smile at her. I’ll let her take her anger out on me, because I deserve it. I’m the reason the woman we both love is six feet beneath us. Literally, seeing as we’re currently standing on opposite sides of Shelli’s grave. The grave I must have fallen asleep on. Again. I don’t remember even coming here.

“Get your shit together, Santo. This…” Kristen waves a hand up and down my body. “…is pathetic, even for you.”

“I saw her,” I blurt out.

Kristen freezes. “What?”

“Shelli. I saw her,” I repeat.

“She’s dead, Santo. Your family made sure of that.” Kristen bends forward, lowering a bunch of yellow roses onto the ground. Shelli’s favourite flowers.

“She wants me to dig into something, to look for something,” I continue. When Kristen freezes and her eyes close for a long moment, I get the reaction I was looking for. She knows something. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“Nothing. Leave her alone, Santo. Let her rest in peace. She deserves that at the very least,” Kristen says.

“Why would she want me to look for something?” I try again.

“She’s dead, Santo. You didn’t talk to her. Whatever you talked to was of your own doing. My advice? See a fucking shrink and sort yourself out.” With those words, Kristen turns around and storms away from me.

I sit down and stare at the tombstone. I hate reading the word fiancée. She was supposed to be a wife. My wife. A few more hours and she would have been. “Whatever it is you want me to find, I need your help, Shelli. Give me something to go on. A hint, a clue, anything,” I beg her.

I don’t get an answer, not that I was expecting one. Memories of the weeks leading up to the wedding invade my mind. Shelli was a nervous wreck. I put it down to pre-wedding jitters. She wanted everything to be perfect. And then we found out we were pregnant, and her anxiety seemed to worsen.

But that wasn’t all that unusual, was it? She was just stressed out that things went in a different order than what we planned, wasn’t she?

I stare at the tombstone like it’s going to give me the answers I need. What if it wasn’t? What if I missed something?

“Were you hiding something? What were you hiding?” I run a frustrated hand through my hair. Where do I even start to look?

Our apartment. The one place I haven’t been able to go back to since everything went down. I can’t go there. I never officially moved out of our father’s house. He wouldn’t allow that. But I did buy Shelli a place of her own. And most nights, that was where I stayed too. It’s where we planned to live after the wedding.

My heart races at the thought of going there. It’s been months and I’m still running from the truth. The fact that she’s not ever coming back.

“Find the truth.” Shelli’s words echo in my mind. I need to figure out what it is she wants me to know.