Sinners 01 - Branded (17 page)

My intention wasn’t to accompany Alyssa to the morgue on the fourth floor, but I can’t
seem to let go yet. The reality doesn’t hit me even as her body lies in front of my
eyes. Her chest doesn’t rise and her lips are a pale white. The mortician ambles about
the small room, performing various duties that seem to seal Alyssa’s fate. He zips
her tiny frame into a heavy black bag, and I watch as every last inch of her skin
disappears from the world, sealing her inside. It’s like her light has been snuffed
out by that bag and I want to rip it off. Then the mortician places the bag onto a
gurney and begins to wheel her out of the room. Panic surges through me.
I can’t let her go alone!
I jump in front of the door and block his way out.

“I’m going with her!”

“No, you’re not,” Sutton says. “You’re very much alive and I plan on keeping you that
way.” He grabs me around my waist, picks me up, and moves me out of the way.

Before he puts me on my feet, I wrap my arms around his neck and plead.

“I promised her I wouldn’t leave. I have to go with her. She wanted to be cremated.
I have to make sure it happens.” His grip relaxes and he sets me on my feet. “I have
to make sure she gets there safely.”

Beep. Beep
. Sutton glances at his beeper. “A guard’s been injured. I have to go immediately.”
His eyes plead in apology. “Stay here.” He disappears into another patient’s room,
so I take off and catch the gurney.

“I thought he told you to stay,” the boy says.

“What’s it going to hurt? He won’t even know I’m gone.”

I glance up in time to see two guards walking toward us. I recognize the one from
the incident in the garage. His skeptical eyes evaluate us as we pass, so I fix mine
ahead, attempting to avoid provocation. The weight of their stares burns holes in
my back, and I shudder. I feel vulnerable without Cole around and I doubt Mr. Mortician
Boy knows any fighting tactics. They pass without a word and I exhale with relief.

“I’m Benjamin, by the way,” he says. “Sorry about your friend.”

I look over forcing a grin. “Thank you,” I manage to say. “I’m Lexi.”

He wears thin glasses and has shaggy red hair that partially hides his yellow brand.
He pushes Alyssa’s body into the elevator and I squeeze in beside him. Before I finish
my deep breath, we reach our destination.

As the doors open, the air sends a shiver up my spine and goose bumps rise on my arms.
I glance around and rub my arms, trying to ignore the fact more people like Alyssa
lay hidden in this room. It’s dark and cool with large refrigerators thrumming in
the background. Three homemade wooden tables line the middle of the room.
Don’t get sick. Don’t pass out.

Benjamin must sense my nervousness as he rolls the gurney to the back wall. “They’re
just refrigerators.”

“I figured. Just kind of freaks me out a bit. It’s just… I don’t want her sealed in
a body bag and locked in a refrigerator—”

“It’s not her anymore,” he says. “It’s just her earthly body she had to leave to get
to heaven.”

“And you believe all that?”

“I have to. It’s the only way I make it through each day… Knowing there’s a light
at the end of the tunnel calms me.”

“Oh, I’ve heard that saying before, about the light at the end of a tunnel.”

“Lots of people used it before the commander took over.”

“Oh, that’s right, my dad used to say it.”

Thinking about my dad and hearing his voice in my head make me choke on my words a
little. “Once, when I was about six years old, I had an argument with a girlfriend
of mine from school. At that age, it seemed like the end of the world. I remember
crying when my dad picked me up in his small blue car. He wrapped his arms around
me and said, ‘Honey, I know you don’t see it now, but there’s always a light at the
end of the tunnel.’” At the time, I didn’t weigh his words carefully, but now they
ring fresh and true in my ears. So many times he tried to prepare me for the future
without ever knowing what I’d face.
God, I miss you, Daddy.

“I’m going to roll her over there now.” Benjamin smiles at me, then moves toward the
refrigerators.

I can feel my heart in my throat. I never liked death and this is way beyond my comfort
zone. He pushes the gurney toward the back of the room alongside a dozen, square rusty
doors. Six line the top and six across the bottom. They’re numbered one through twelve.

“They’re all empty except for one, four, and five.” He unbuckles the straps holding
Alyssa’s body in place. “Pick one.”

“Um, I don’t know.”

“I can do it if you’re not—”

“Let’s go with nine,” I say.

He turns the handle, opens the door, and pulls a large tray-looking thing out. He
moves to the other side and rolls up his sleeves.

“Do you need a minute before I…?”

I don’t wait for him to finish. My hand glides over the black bag as I move toward
her head. Taking the zipper between my fingers, I slide it down just enough to reveal
her face. She looks peaceful, content. The coloring is off, but her features are relaxed.
Grief overpowers me as I push a wisp of her hair away from her cheek.

I lean over and whisper in her ear. “I promise I’ll set you free. I don’t know when,
but I’ll get you there. I hope I was the friend you needed me to be.”

I know she isn’t there and she can’t hear me. Maybe those words are to remind myself
that I always keep my promises. Either way, she changed my life for the better.

I close the bag, pat the top of her head, and put my arms under her back. Ben and
I lift her small, fragile body placing it onto the table. He repositions her and I
step back as he slides her body into place, closes the door, and locks the handle.

“Damn it. She was just thirteen years old!” I pound my fist into door three. Anger,
more explosive than the sun, surges through me. A sob racks my body as I beat my forehead
against the door.

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

I’ve haven’t endured this kind of pain since my father died. I forgot how intense
the emotions are that flow through you when you lose a loved one.

Ben places his hand on my shoulder, giving it a quick squeeze. He hops onto a table
resting his head in his hands. I can’t take it anymore, plus we have to get back.
Too much time has elapsed since we left. I stumble out of the room trying to hold
myself together. Ben jumps from the table and slowly follows me to the rackety box.

Once I’m in the elevator, I push number eight. Nothing happens. I slam the button
with my fist and still nothing. Ben pushes the red emergency button and presses his
ear to the panel.

“It must be jammed again. The cables aren’t moving at all. Man, I hope it’s not the
motor.” He shakes his head. “We just don’t have the money to keep fixing these damn
elevators.”

My patience runs thin and I restrain myself from punching the buttons in frustration.
I don’t have time for this. I need to get back before Sutton realizes I’m missing.

“Is there another way out of here?” I breathe hard like I just ran a race and am having
a hard time catching my breath.
I need to get out of this forsaken place.
I step out, round the corner, and see “STAIRS basement/8 West.”

Ben follows on my heels, wiping sweat from his forehead and frowning with disapproval.
“Please, just wait a few minutes. Let me see if I can get a hold of the repair guys.”
He tugs at my wrist in desperation.

I shrug him off despite his attempt to dissuade me. “No, I need to go now!” Ben raises
his hand in opposition, about to open his mouth, but I cut him off. “Please don’t
make me kick you in the nuts.”

He drops his arm to his side, letting me by.

The door closes behind me with a click, followed by a beep, locking me out of the
morgue.

It takes a minute for my aching eyes to adjust to the dim lighting. The grated stairs
make a light strumming noise as I begin my ascent and my palms stick to the tacky,
crumbling paint of the railings. One floor, two floors pass before my slipper gets
caught on an edge and I tumble forward onto the landing.
Crap. Where is it?
My fingers shake while feeling around for it. As I place the worn slipper back onto
my foot, it starts.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.
Getting closer each time. A flashlight flicks on. I look upward and instantly adrenaline
shoots through my veins.

Through the grated stairs a few flights above me, two silhouettes tap their batons
against their hands. My heart beats so rapidly that I can’t hear their voices.

I inch backward until I’m up against the wall. I look for a door, a person, or anything
that can help me. Nothing. Sickness washes over me, but there’s no time to be weak.
For the moment, I swallow my fear and take off to the basement. I’m leaping down the
stairs when they start calling out.

“Hey, where do you think you’re going?” Their raucous laughter bounces off the walls
and exhilarates my fear.
Don’t panic, don’t panic… too late. I’m panicking.

“Sutton’s on his way!” My voice cracks. I’m not sure they heard me, but I had to try
something.

“Oh, no!” More obnoxious laughter echoes down the staircase. “Isn’t the elevator working?”
They ask with sarcasm.

As they inch closer, I look over my shoulder, and recognize one of them as the guard
from the garage. Dread wraps its fingers around my heart. They’re getting closer and
I feel like I’m running through quicksand
.
I want to go faster, but my legs won’t respond. I grab the railing with my right hand,
swinging my legs over the bar, and down the next flight of stairs trying to gain some
distance.

“Whore on the loose! Yes! I love this game,” the other guard says. They hop over the
railing with ease.

“Help! Someone
help me
!” I scream even though I know nobody can hear me.

“Who the hell would help you?”

I look up and one flight is all that separates us. As I get closer to the bottom,
I notice there’s only one door
.
You have to be open!
Slamming into the door, I turn the handle and bolt through.
The stairwell was well lit compared to this.
Where to go? Where to hide?
At the other end, I spot a window where the sun seeps in.
If I can get there, someone might hear me.
There’s a light at the end of the tunnel, right?
I sprint toward it.

Tables, beds, and chairs litter my path to safety. Boxes piled upon boxes jam-pack
the walls and floors in every crevice. I glance around, trying to find a backup plan.
The window is too far and too high for the amount of time I have left. Rushing, I
smack into a folding chair and slam to the ground making a loud clanging noise.

“That was graceful,” he says from behind me.

I didn’t know they were that close. Out of options, I crawl under an empty cardboard
box and await the inevitable. I’m trapped and they know it.

“Now it’s a game of hide-and-seek. You’re making this way too enjoyable.”

Banging and crashing noises tell me they’re digging for me. I’m shaking so hard I’m
sure they can tell what box I’m hiding under. A guard kicks boxes and throws chairs
out of his way.
Please don’t kick me.
In the midst of the noise, I lose track of the other guard but don’t dare look. It
becomes silent.
They are going to kill me. It’s over.

They rip the box off me and I lunge to get away. A blow lands on the back of my head
with a sickening crack and searing pain overpowers my senses. Hands grip my arms and
I’m flung into a pile of chairs that clatter to the floor underneath me. They drag
me to the other side of the room as the blood drenching my hair leaves a trail behind.
My head is yanked up and I’m forced to look into the steel, cold eyes of the guard
from the garage.

“Thought you could get away, didn’t you?” He orders the other guard, “Hold her down.”

I kick with force, managing to free an arm, and rake my fingernails down his face,
tearing his skin. Furious, he lands a blow across my cheek and sends me back to reality.
I don’t stand a chance.

“I said hold her down!”

He pins me, wraps a piece of cloth around my head and through my mouth to muffle my
screams. Then he climbs on top of me.

At first, I glue my thighs shut as he tries to pry them apart, but then he punches
me so hard I see flashes of light. He sends his fist into my gut, knocking the wind
out of me. My body goes limp, and he spreads my legs as I gasp for breath. His hands
explore me like clay being modeled, tracing every curve and inch of my skin.

I cringe with every touch. His hands are rough like sandpaper and I feel disgusting,
repulsive, and dirty in every way possible. Everything that belonged to me has been
taken away, and now my purity will be plundered as well.

I’m humiliated.

I’m violated.

I’m treated like the scum of the earth, and they’re proud.

He slaps me across the face. “Look at me.” He drools over his words.

No, please God.

His eyes are alight with ecstasy. He whips out a knife and slices my shirt to shreds.
I squirm and buck, but his solid form remains immovable. He turns to the other guard.

“You can have your turn when I’m finished…”

The other guard grins, sweat dripping down his face and staining the starch collar
of his shirt. His hands squeeze my arms tighter, but nothing compares to the splitting
pain in my head.

I gain strength for one last push but to no avail. I have nothing left.

He throws an elbow across my face, jarring my brain sideways, and the room goes pitch-black
for a second. He unbuckles his belt and loosens his pants.

“That’s it. Give in. Let it happen.”