The Sin & The Sinner

Prologue

Isabella Jones (15 years old) POV

Dad wasn't home when i got back from school, which is more common than i like.

I sigh and walk up the three brick stairs to get to the front door. The front door had a green paint smudge on it from Liam and i. We were supposed to be painting his room but we ended up in a paint war and chasing each other all over the house. Mum wasn't happy when she saw the mess we had created, but it was one of my favourite memories with Liam.

I open the door to a deathly silent house, even though the house has been like this for months i still can't get rid of the shiver that runs down my spine or the paranoia that creeps back up. Fear and anxiety has become my constant companions, throw in paranoia and heartbreak and you have me wrapped up in a few words and soul crushing emotions.

I put my house keys in the ceramic bowl with a chip in the side of it, the one Liam and i made for mum and dad at Christmas when i was 8 and he was 11. The sound echos all through the walls and makes the hair on my neck stand up.

I close the door behind me and head up the stairs, missing the forth stair on muscle memory, back when i used to sneak out. I get to the landing of the stairs and open the door closest to me. Mums room.

I don't say anything, i haven't said a word to her since the night before Liam died. But just because i don't talk to her doesn't mean i don't care about her, i just open her door to make sure she is still breathing, and she is if the rise and fall of her chest under the blanket is any indication.

I close the door and head further down the hallway, passing the study (now dads room since Liam died) and then stopping at my room. My room is opposite Liam's. I look at his door, the danger tape still all over his door from last halloween. I exhale and turn around opening my door.

I turn on the light and drop my bag by the door. My room is the same as it always has been, with a few extra details gathered over the years. Four grey coloured walls, one wall with thrift shop book pages covering it, another with photos and sentimental tokens that i collected on special days out, the rest of the walls bare. My double sized bed in the middle on the book wall, as i call it, my chest draws shoved up against the far corner.

Clothes and blankets scatter the floor while food and cups and plates littler any available surface. I don't bothering cleaning my room anymore. I don't have the energy for it. I haven't had the energy for more than waking up lately.

I haven't done much since Liam's death. He was the only person to believe me when i told him the truth, everyone else just said that i was 'attention seeking' as if i would ever lie about something like that. Liam was the only one to believe me, even my own parents didn't believe me.

Liam was also my stupid older brother who may have looked indestructible but in reality he was just as human as the rest of us.

I learned two things in that horrific week:

Number One: Never trust anyone.
They will hurt and manipulate you until you are so far under, you don't even know your drowning.

Number Two: I am alone.
I have no one in my corner, i'm all alone, i'd rather not have anyone now and will prove to the rest of the world that i am capable.