Branded (Sinners, #1)

I hate the skin I live in. I cringe at my reflection and vomit at every sight and smell that reminds me of those days. (I hope that’s a good enough excuse for my puking issue.)

And now I’m here with you and all of a sudden my life makes sense again. The way you look at me makes me feel human—not a lifeless soul trapped in my own skin. So I thank you from the bottom of my heart for saving me, reviving me, caring for me, but most of all, for being my friend. I’m a train wreck—I know this—but with you by my side, I’m starting to mend.

So please, don’t give up on me. I need you to remind me every day who I really am and what I can become. If you can find it in your heart to love me, then please don’t run away. Promise me you’ll stay. Even though we can’t ever be together, promise me you’ll stay.

I never knew what it felt like to be in love, and I never wanted to until I fell in love with you.

I love you,

Lexi

P.S. Deep down I know you’d never choose to hurt me, so if you see Keegan, please tell him I love him.



Just thinking about his response makes my hands shake as I pull on my new clothes. I can only hope and pray he doesn’t hate me.



Day Five. Victims of street violence line the dim hallways of the hospital. The air is choked with blood, vomit, and humidity. Nurses struggle to pull bodies out of the hall and into a pile while guards patrol each room, looking for instigators. Their dark presence makes me feel as if there’s an anchor in my stomach, weighting me to the floor. I keep my eyes downcast and stay busy with my hands.

Patients die so fast we can’t keep up, so the nurses develop a method of deciding who’s most likely to live and then mark them with a pen. The marked patients are sent to the eighth floor and the others are left to die. Nightmares of their ragged, desperate faces envelop me at night.



Day Six. I’m losing my mind. He said he’d be gone a full week, which means he should be home tomorrow. I don’t think I can wait any longer even though my insides shake with the anxiety of his possible response. Did he read it? Does he think I’m disgusting? Weak? I wish I could read his mind.

“I’ve been calling you. They needed you in room three about twenty minutes ago,” Bertha commands.

I drop the basket of sheets on the floor with a thump and sprint to the room. Five people with gruesome injuries are shoved into the small candlelit space. Only one of them lies in a bed and the others rest, moaning, on the floor.

“I need you to clean up this putrid mess!” Amber points to the body lying closest to the wall, a man who obviously wet himself. A putrid yellow puddle forms around his body, but since he’s unconscious, he doesn’t know.

But without fail, my stomach lurches, and I swallow it back. “It would be my pleasure,” I say.

She laughs at me in the snide manner that suits her so well. “I’m sure he doesn’t miss you one bit. He never could keep his pants on.” She tosses me a napkin and leaves.

A passionate, angry retort bubbles up within me, but I refuse to give in to her rude behavior. I unfold the napkin and throw it on the urine, watching it soak up. Then I grab a sheet and start scrubbing while holding my breath so I don’t puke on this poor man. I try to push his body aside to clean under him, but he’s too heavy and he just moans.

Three guards slam through the door and swarm the man I’m cleaning. They shove me out of the way as Bruno enters behind them. Their eyes narrow into slits and their mouths pull down at the corners.

“Leave,” Bruno whispers in my ear.

“What?” I ask.

One of the guards pulls out his pistol, pushes it against the man’s temple, and executes him—right there on the floor. A scream catches in my throat as Bruno shields me. They stomp heavily out and leave his body lying there in a mix of crimson blood and urine.

As soon as they pass, I crumble on the floor, gasping for air. My ears ring with the explosive sound of the gun. The image of the patient’s body, the bodies in the street, and Claire on the platform bleeding her life away grasp at every thread of sanity I own.

“It’ll be okay. It’ll be okay,” Bruno says. He kneels down next to me.

It’ll never be okay as long as I’m here. I want to scream at him.

“It’s seven. Let’s go… but first you need to snap out of it so we can walk out of here. I’m not carrying your ass.” He pulls me up and brushes me off with worry etched on his face. His large eyes give nothing away, but I sense anger. I wonder if he’s as bothered as I am over the deaths of innocent people.

Straightening my back and wiping my face, I enter the hallway. Amber stands at the nurse’s station, flirting with Zane. She didn’t need me to clean the room; she just wanted to humiliate me. The way she smiles and flips her hair makes me want to go psycho and overturn the huge desk in front of her. I seethe under my skin and give her the nastiest look I can muster.

Bruno walks beside me and we ride silently in the elevator.

I stumble through the parking lot, unaware of my surroundings while deep in thought.

“Someone’s back early,” Bruno says.





CHAPTER 13

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