Page 25 of Sinful Lord

Everything stops. It feels like I’m falling. Falling into the darkness…

Then, all of a sudden, I’m shocked back awake.

Ice-cold water rushes into my nostrils as I’m plunged beneath the Spree river. My eyes rip back open, but I can’t see anything, not until my body floats back up to the surface.

That’s when I see the bridge. It’s already starting to shrink into the distance. I’m being pulled away by the frigid water.

But it’s hardly a relief, because right in the middle of the bridge’s arch, right where I had been standing, looms the hellish figure that chased me here.

It stands there, unflinching. A human-shaped void of pure evil.

Fear pounds me until I can’t even think straight. And that’s not even the worst of my problems.

It’s getting so cold I can hardly breathe, and not even the frigid water can keep me awake anymore. With a final, difficult breath, I close my eyes. My body gives in. My mind accepts its fate.

The fear begins to fade. But in its place comes something worse. An immense sense of loneliness.

I’m going to die alone. I’ll never feel warmth again. And it’s all my fault.

Those thoughts increase in intensity as I start to fade. I try to think of my family, but nothing can get past the ice that encases me.

Until something does.

At first, it’s just a warmth around my wrist. But as I’m pulled from the frigid water, that warmth spreads up my arm, through my chest, and into my very core.

My body shivers as I’m held tightly against the source of heat. My eyes won’t open, but the strong embrace is so comforting that I don’t care. I let myself sink into the sudden sense of safety, whether it’s real or not.

“Thank you…” I hear myself whisper.

“Hush,” a strong voice insists. “Rest. It’s going to be alright, princess. I’ve got you.”

For some reason, I believe it. And that’s all the permission I need to finally give in.

Slowly, I let myself fade away—happy that, at the very least, I won’t die cold and alone.

5

Tytus

She’s still out cold when I pull up to the hospital. I try to warm her with my body, but even I’m starting to freeze over.

My red-hot anger is fading. It’s slowly replaced by something far less useful.

Fear.

Don’t die on me, angel. You’re not allowed to die on me.

Melina’s red lips have turned blue. Her soft skin has hardened into a pale, almost translucent glass. She seems so fragile. Too fragile. Even more so than before. Yet somehow, her beauty shines through.

I remember how warm she was in that dark hallway. I won’t lose that warmth. I can’t.

Holding Melina close to my body, I carry her from my car and in through the hospital’s front doors.

Every nurse and doctor in the vicinity races to our aid when they see the state Melina’s in. One by one, they try to get me to lay her down on a gurney, but I insist on carrying her.

My rage may be dwindling, but my shame is slowly creating enough heat to make up for it. This is my fault.

It doesn’t take long before, I’m on fire again.