Skin of a Sinner: A Dark Childhood Best Friends Romance(2)

Warm lips press against my forehead, as a cry rips through my throat. The memory of the last time I felt them is ingrained into my mind, etched so deep that it isn’t just a mark; it’s who I am.

“Don’t touch me,” I plead, attempting to push him away. He doesn’t move an inch, holding me tighter, like he’s worried I’ll be the one to disappear.

If he keeps touching me, I’m afraid I’ll forget how deep the wounds he left behind are.

“You were always a heavy sleeper.” He chuckles to himself as if it’s an inside joke.

The gloved hand caresses my cheek as he presses his forehead to mine. The touch is so loving and tender, as if I might actually mean something to him. But I should know better—I have to know better. I won’t survive if he leaves again.

As I tilt my head up to look at him, his lips stretch into a sinister smirk. Glancing at Marcus and his missing appendage, Roman pulls out the knife and nudges the back of my trembling hand, saying, “Would you like the honors, Princess?”

Marcus’s cries are muffled by the tape covering his mouth. The sound breaks my trance, and when I pull away from Roman this time, he lets me.

I wish I had the strength to hurt Marcus the way Roman is, not just for vengeance for everything my foster brother put me through, but to prove to myself that I can take care of myself in every possible way.

I wipe away the tears with the back of my hand, spreading the congealing blood he left behind on my cheek. My other foster brother Jeremy is safe at camp, but what about… “Where—where’s Millie?” My foster mom stood by and watched, but she doesn’t deserve to be tortured for it. She’s a victim too.

He shakes his head, a pinch between his brows, looking at me as if he was hoping to hear something else fall from my lips. “She’s okay.”

“What does ‘okay’ mean?” I step back when he reaches for me, and the frown deepens.

I turn around. Surveying. Studying. Holding back my meager dinner that’s rising up my throat. I’ve seen him beat someone into a pulp with his bare hands. I’ve watched bones break beneath his baseball bat. But this?

He’s done it now. He’s gone too far this time.

There’s blood everywhere. Ripped flesh, torn appendages, and missing limbs. This isn’t just murder; this is the definition of a bloodbath.

“What have you done?” My voice quivers as I knock my knee against a shelf.

The room sways, and I can’t breathe. He steps in front of me, but that just makes the dizziness worse. I can’t look at him. I need to go back to pretending he doesn’t exist.

“What have you done, Roman?” I tremble, trying to stop my lungs from burning, but the match has already been lit, and there’s nothing to stop it from spreading like wildfire. “What—what is this? What are you—I can’t do this. I can’t do this.”

I fall onto my knees and clamber backward, choking on air before I empty the contents of my stomach onto the floor. He grips my arms and pulls me to my feet, making me dry heave against his chest. “Deep breaths, Bella. Don’t look, alright? Just focus on me.”

He feels so warm and comforting, like I’m finally back home. But it’s all wrong. I thrash in his grip, desperate to get away. I can’t do this after all the pain he’s put me through and everything that happened. He was the only thing standing between me and the demons on the other side.

Demons like Marcus.

Roman left me to fend for myself, and I almost died because of it.

There was a time I was willing to give him every fractured piece of my heart. I thought he loved every broken part of me. He said I was perfect.

But Roman Riviera is a liar.

Every family before this one got rid of me. My mother is gone. I wasn’t enough for my father. And, God, I thought there was a chance I could be enough for him.

“No.” I gasp. “No!” Stop touching me. Nothing makes his hold on me falter, keeping me prisoner in the arms of the man who is my reminder of every part of me that I lost the day he left. “You’re crazy. You’re fucking crazy.”

“I prefer the term ‘artist,’” he quips.

Is he seriously joking right now? “What is your fucking problem? Why are you here? You left, so you should stay gone.”

I was getting better. Every day, it was getting a little easier. I found hope—feeble as it was—that I would one day turn my back on this town and scrub every stain from me, once and for all.

I found a purpose in looking after Jeremy, my little foster brother. It wasn’t much, but I knew even the smallest voices could make the largest impact. Whatever came after was worth making sure Jeremy went to bed unafraid of waking up in the morning.

The muscle in Roman’s jaw feathers. “Go back to bed. I was hoping to finish up without disturbing you.”

Without disturbing me.

So what? Is he only here so that he can leave me again? Have I always been a tool for his own sick enjoyment?

Back to bed.

Without disturbing me.

The words echo over and over, building and filling until it tips over the brim.

I’m so foolish for thinking he might be back for me. That he might stay. I should have known better. He always had a thing against Marcus. He’s just tying up loose ends. Why am I not surprised?

I shove him in the chest. Hard. It’s not enough for him to let go, but it catches him off guard long enough for me to slap him. “Fuck you, Roman. I hate you.”