Sinful || H.S.

1

Before I know it, the hinges of the gate creak open, with two large doors sliding back to reveal a 1900's style building hidden behind. A quick shudder runs through my body as photographs flash through my mind, granting me a visit to those dimples I so desperately want to forget.

Not wanting to get lost in a whirlwind of reminiscence, I pull my shawl closer to my body and follow the star struck guard down the cobbled pathway. As soon as I saw the impression my words left on the sentinel, I was confident James would authorise my request. My reputation precedes me.

My last statement is further exemplified, seeing as the chief is doing his most to make sure I am safe before entering the house. My eyes run past the innumerable safety measures I am to be put through and I chuckle to myself. After all this time, they are still scared. Albeit, I am too, but it feels good to remember the effect I used to have on people.

As I walk through the X-Ray scanner, I roll my eyes; these precautions are quite unnecessary, especially given my current senile state.

Time flies as I go through the series of security checks and what do you know, I'm meeting with the oh-so-familiar linoleum door tout de suite. My trembling fingers rise to knock on the door. I catch my left hand in my right, scolding myself for letting my fingers quiver. I am here because I am brave. I can only be brave.

Soon, the polished wood opens to reveal the chief with disheveled grey hair, a royal purple night suit and fatigued hazel eyes. He scans me thoroughly, top to bottom, watching me like a museum artefact. His mouth forms an O shape as he takes my form in, now fully aware that I am, indeed, the infamous Sin.

"I- uh, come in." He speaks, his voice revealing a lisp, perhaps due to the lack of dentures. I smirk internally, glad to know I was not the only person age caught up with.

Stepping aside, he allows my unsteady feet to shuffle on his exquisite marble flooring as I waddle over to the velvet-covered couch sitting in the centre of the living room.

I wait patiently, watching him closely to study his reaction to my being here. Never in a million years would he have expected to see a criminal standing at the foot of his porch, ready to confess. Definitely not after said criminal had been running from him for the past fourty years.

Smith places a glass of cold water in front of me, setting it down on a fancily embroidered coaster. The design matches the over-the-top decor covering every inch of this house. Talk about being tacky.

Finally, after a few minutes of chit-chatting in hush whispers with his security, he takes a seat opposite me.

He stares at me. Blatantly stares. He doesn't look angry, he doesn't look victorious, he looks intrigued. Intrigued to know who I am. Intrigued to know why I came after all these years. Intrigued to know the story I'm about to tell him.

"I'm sure the guard told you who I am. I'm Sin."

His expression is priceless. His dull blue eyes widen to the size of Jupiter and the perplexed look that he sported prior to this conversation, only magnifies.

"Why are you here?" He asks softly, then clears his throat and sits up straight, trying to seem more macho and professional.

"I'm here to confess. I have to tell you a story. Then you can decide what you want to do with me. My fate lies in your hands after today." I say, my voice faltering a little. My sweaty palms were enough of a sign that I was extremely nervous, now my voice had to give it away, too.

"I - um - do not mean to be rude, but if you really are Sin, why did you come after all these years? Why not live the rest of your life in peace instead of rotting in a prison cell?"

I almost chuckle at his question, my mind filling with thoughts of a certain curly-haired boy and the stupid pact we had made.

"My partner... we shook on it. I had to honour my word and come clean." My voice tightens, thinking about Harry. I have to bite back a sob, not wanting to seem vulnerable in front of a man I once so intrepidly fought.

"How do I know it really is you?" Smith asks hesitantly, placing a hand on his knee and resting his face on his knuckles, looking at me with dubiety written all over his face.

"Two hours. Two hours for me to tell you a story then it is up to you to decided whether I am being honest or not."

James looks at the ceiling for a good minute or so before he sighs and joins his hands together. He nods slowly, agreeing with my proposition. I glance at the digital clock, a striking red 3:45am written on the machine. I make a mental alarm and begin.

"It started in 2007..."

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Second chapter, yay! Please vote/comment/share if you're liking the book so far ❤️