Ninety Nine Sins Between Us

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The year I turned twenty, I sold my body to my greatest enemy. I crawled into his bed and let him ruin me, all for the sake of a pleathat hed show mercy and let my mother go.

But mercy never came. My mother died anyway, crushed in a horrific multi-car pileup. By the time they pulled her from the wreckage, half of her head was gone.

I remember storming into the boardroom, my body still aching and torn from him, screaming with a hysteria that rattled the glass walls.

"Silas, I gave you everything you wanted! Why did you still kill her?"

His response was a backhand so violent it sent me spinning to the floor.

Silas didn't even blink. He looked down at me, his eyes two chips of frozen Atlantic ice. "When my mother jumped from that balcony right in front of me, I wanted to ask 'why,' too," he said, his voice terrifyingly calm. "Why was your mother such a pathetic whore? Why did she have to seduce my father? Why did she have to drive my mother to her death?"

He leaned down, his shadow swallowing me whole. "June, the debt is only beginning to be paid. If youre crying now, youre far too early."

He forced me into a marriage license using the ninety-nine private photos hed taken of me that first night as blackmail. Then, he turned around and made sure the entire city of Chicago watched as he dropped millions to woo his socialite childhood sweetheart.

He forced me to hand-fold nine hundred and ninety-nine paper roses for her, until my fingertips were raw and bleeding.

He forced me to deliver a box of condoms to their hotel in the middle of a torrential rainstorm, a night that left me with a fever so high it turned into a week-long stint in the ICU with pneumonia.

Silas wanted me to watch him love someone else. He wanted me to witness the way he cherished her, pampered her, and adored her, until the sheer weight of the contrast made me want to claw my own heart out.

What he didn't know was that after six years of this mutual destruction, I was actually dying.

And of those ninety-nine photos, only three remained.

I had been unconscious in the hospital for seven days after my last round of chemotherapy failed. I didn't expect to find Silas waiting outside my cramped apartment the moment I was discharged.

He didn't greet me. He just grabbed me, slamming me against the door with a rage that vibrated through his grip.

"June, Madeline asked you for those things. Why haven't you given them to her?" he hissed. "Don't think for a second I won't leak those photos."

The photos. Those hazy, intimate, shameful captures of a night that should have never happened. If he leaked them, the world would see exactly what he called me: a whore.

The familiar jolt of panic finally cleared the fog in my brain. I lifted my head with great effort, my voice a raspy whisper. "Ill give them to her. What does she want?"

I vaguely recalled Silas sending me a series of voice notes before I started chemo. But back then, every ounce of my soul had been focused on begging God for a chance to live. I hadn't had the strength to listen to his demands.

I pulled out my phone. The chat history was a graveyard of missed connectionshundreds of voice notes.

I tapped one. The high-pitched, pampered lilt of Madeline filled the air, Silass voice murmuring in a low, soothing tone in the background.

"Silas, why did you ever write her love letters? Why did you make her a custom snow globe? I want them. They're mine now. Tell her to give them back!"

She wanted the relics of our past. The matching setsthe gloves, the mugs, the pens. Back when Silas loved me most, everything had to be a pair. His and hers.

Those memories felt like they belonged to a different century, a different girl. My eyes began to sting, but Silas caught my jaw in a bruising grip, forcing me to meet his mocking gaze.

"Whats the matter, June? Can't let go?"

The last time Id hesitatedwhen I refused to give Madeline my mothers heirloom jade braceletSilas had arranged for my mothers grave to be desecrated. If I hadn't made it there in time, I wouldn't even have been able to save her urn.

I shook my head violently. "No! No, Ill get them. Ill give them to you right now."

I leaned against the doorframe, my legs shaking, and fumbled with the lock. Once inside, I began to scavenge through my life for his scraps.

The voice notes continued to play in the background, a soundtrack to my humiliation.

"Have those things at my office by 6 AM tomorrow."

"Where the hell are you?"

"June, you've got balls ignoring me for this many days. Get out here!"

Then, the final one: "Madeline and I are getting engaged tomorrow. If you don't show up, you know the consequences."

Engaged?

My heart skipped a beat, stuttering in my chest. The glass snow globe I was holding slipped through my numb fingers and shattered on the floor, rolling to a stop at Silass feet.

He leaned over and picked it up, eyeing my ghostly pallor. "What? Did you think that because we have a piece of paper, I was still holding a candle for you? After six years?"

He flipped the snow globe over. On the base, "S & J" was engraved in a youthful, hopeful script. He let out a sharp, derisive laugh.

"You don't deserve to have your name next to mine."

He grabbed an X-Acto knife from my desk and brutally gouged the letters out. The plastic shavings fell on me like grey snow. I bit my lip until I tasted copper.

He was right. I didn't deserve it.

Everyone knew Silas hated me. To the world, our six-year marriage was a joke, and I was just a social climber who had trapped a king. No one knew I had been ready to sign the divorce papers years ago.

I had even tried to end it all oncetried to leave this world entirely. But Silas had thrown those ninety-nine photos in my face.

"You want to die, June? Go ahead," hed sneered. "And the second your heart stops, Ill hit 'send.' Ill let the world know the daughter is just like the mother. Ill make sure your mothers name is synonymous with 'trash' for eternity."

So I stayed. For my mothers dignity, what little was left of it.

For six years, we had a system: for every act of penance, for every time I let him degrade me, he deleted one photo.

Now, there were only three left. He was getting married to the woman he actually loved. It was almost over.

I packed the items into a bag with trembling hands and looked at him, my voice devoid of emotion. "What else do you want from me? To delete the last three?"

Silas stared at me, then his gaze drifted to the framed photo of my mother on the wall. His expression curdled into something dark and ugly.

A cold dread pooled in my stomach. I turned to run, but he caught my ankle and hauled me back onto the sofa.

"Silas, stop! Youre crazy! My mother is right there!" I thrashed, pointing at the photo.

He was brutal, his movements stripped of any lingering tenderness. "The daughter of a woman who crawled into her best friends husbands bed doesn't get to talk about dignity," he spat.

I stopped fighting.

Suddenly, I was eighteen again. The day Silas told me he loved me. We were so happy, so young. And then we walked through the front door and saw my mother and his father together. I saw Silass mother on the balcony, her face a mask of white marble before she stepped into the air.

Silas had screamed thena sound of pure, jagged despair. The same sound he was making now with his body, trying to break me.

I pulled a throw pillow over my face to blot out the world. "Fine, Silas. Do it. But it costs you two photos."

He stayed all night.

When I tried to look away, he forced my head toward the wall. I strained my neck, watching the ceiling light flicker and sway. Across the room, the incense smoke curled in front of my mother's picture, obscuring her face.

I imagined she was smiling sadly at me.

Years ago, I asked her why. Why Silass mother? If she hadn't taken us in when we were homeless, we would have died in the snow.

My mother had cried, telling me that Silass mother was dying of a hidden illness, and she was terrified wed be thrown out on the street again. She did it out of survival.

But after the suicide, Silass father had a heart attack and died. Creditors swarmed. Silass legs were broken by thugs who took the company. They made him crawl; they called him garbage.

My mother realized her sin too late. She worked three jobs, sold her blood, sold a kidney, just to put Silas through school. I dropped out of college to wait tables and entertain clients, drinking myself sick so he wouldn't have to.

But Silas would just rub his legsthe ones that still ached on rainy nightsand look at me with bloodshot eyes. "My family is gone because of you. You think a few years of playing saint makes us even? Youre dreaming."

Once he took back his empire, he crushed everyone who had ever touched him. I was the only one left to bleed.

I had tried to hate him back, but after my mother died, I investigated the accident. It really was just a car crash. I couldn't even blame him for her death.

Loving him was just too exhausting.

By dawn, it was over. I was cold, aching in places I didn't know could hurt, curled into a ball on the sofa. I drifted into a dream of that first snowy night his family took us in. He had cupped my face and told me not to cry. His hands were so warm.

I woke up. The warmth was gone. Only the cold, drying tracks of tears remained.

Silas was standing over me, his silhouette lost in the shadows. I reached out and grabbed his sleeve, my voice a ghost.

"Two photos. Delete them."

He didn't answer. He just turned and walked away.

"Silas! Delete them! Do you hear me?" I tried to stand, but my legs gave out. I hit the floor face-first.

Blood erupted from my nose. I wiped at it frantically, my vision blurring. "Delete them!"

"You're so desperate to protect that bitch's memory?" his cold voice drifted back to me. "Fine. You want the last ones gone? Come to my engagement party tonight. Work as a server. Do that, and I'll wipe the slate clean."

The word "cruel" echoed in my mind. Today would have been our tenth anniversaryfrom the day we first became "us."

But my body was running out of time.

"Okay," I whispered.

When I arrived at the ballroom, Silass secretary shoved a uniform at me.

When I stepped out, Silas was waiting. He stared at my face with a strange, unreadable expression. The fall had left a massive purple bruise across my cheek. Id tried to cover it with powder, but the greyish-white over my sickly skin made me look like a corpse. Id added blush in a panic, and now I looked like a Victorian ghost.

I didn't know what to do, so I just smiled.

He tossed a piece of cake onto a tray. "You look like a freak. Eat that. I don't need you fainting and making a scene."

The smell of the sugar made my stomach turn. I wanted to vomit, but he stood there, watching me until I forced every bite down. Only then did he leave.

I drifted through the crowd, the room spinning. I needed to get to the bathroom.

"June? I thought youd have more pride than this."

It was Madeline. She swirled her champagne, leaning in close to my ear. "Silas still loves me. Im the one who hired the guys to break his legs back then, and hes still marrying me. You were the one who stayed by his side, and he wants you dead."

I froze.

I had always thought Silas hated the people who ruined him. But when he took over, he brought Madeline back into the fold immediately. When I asked him why, he told me it was because Madeline was "smart." She had betrayed her own father to help Silas at the very end.

I was the one who wasn't "smart."

The stomach acid was rising. I couldn't breathe. "Move," I managed.

Madeline smirked, blocking my path with her voluminous skirt. "Don't go yet. Look at my dress."

I lost it. I couldn't hold it back anymore. I vomited, the liquid splashing right across the pristine white silk of her designer gown.

"Oh god," I gasped, reaching out to wipe it. "I'm sorry, I didn't"

My vision tunneled. I grabbed for the nearest table to steady myself, but I only succeeded in dragging the tablecloth down with me. Glass shattered everywhere.

A heavy hand grabbed my collar and yanked me back.

"June! What did I tell you?" Silas roared.

I tried to explain, but I just retched again. He looked at me with pure loathing, then turned to the sobbing Madeline.

I looked at her dress again. I recognized the pattern. It was a sketch Silas had made for me when we were eighteen. He had told me then that hed have a snowflake embroidered on the lapel of his suit to match me.

I looked at his chest. There was the snowflake. Now covered in my filth.

I reached out with trembling hands to clean it, but he shoved me away.

"Your pathetic act isn't working. You did this on purpose." He pointed to the floor. "Clean it up. Use your hands."

I fell to my knees, the broken glass slicing into my palms. Silas led a crying Madeline away, and the guests followed, their faces twisted in disgust.

The wedding march began to play in the distance. Or maybe it was close. I couldn't tell.

I don't know how long I was on the floor. Eventually, a pair of polished shoes appeared in my field of vision. A toe lifted my chin.

"June, do you regret it yet?"

I looked up blindly. Regret what? Regret not abandoning my mother?

Silas, that woman you hate so much... she raised me. She saved me from the man who tried to hurt me when I was a child. She gave me her last crust of bread when we were starving. What was I supposed to do?

I didn't answer. I was too tired.

Suddenly, Madelines voice rang out from the other side of the room. "Is it true, Silas? The demolition for that slum redevelopment has started today?"

My heart stopped.

"Which slum?" I croaked. "Silas! Which neighborhood!"

By the time I hailed a cab and got back, half the block was rubble.

My mothers ashes were in that apartment.

The roar of the excavators was deafening. I ran toward the machines, trying to scream, trying to grab a foremans radio. Someone shoved me down. Blood and tears smeared across my face as I scrambled back up.

"Stop! You can't! I still live here! I haven't moved my things!"

A pair of leather shoes appeared. I looked up. It was Silas. He was supposed to be at his engagement party, but he was here, watching the destruction.

I grabbed his pant leg. "Silas, please! You know my mother is in there. Please, just ten minutes. Let me go in and get her."

But his eyes were dead.

I went still. The realization hit me like a physical blow. "You... you did this on purpose?"

A project this big... he must have paid off the landlord not to notify me. Hed kept me in the hospital for seven days, then dragged me to the party today just to ensure I wasn't here. He wanted to erase the last trace of her.

"Why?" I whispered.

Silas closed his eyes, his voice tight. "Today is also my mothers anniversary, June. Do you know what your mother said to mine ten years ago? She said, 'You're dying anyway. He's going to remarry. Why not me? Im just getting a head start.'"

"She was her best friend for thirty years. And she killed her. So why should I give your mother any dignity in death?"

At that exact moment, a thunderous crash shook the ground.

The three-story building collapsed into a heap of dust.

Through the haze, I saw it. The framed photo of my mother, smashed under a concrete slab. The ceramic urn, shattered into a thousand pieces. Her ashesthe last physical remains of the woman who loved mewere scattered into the Chicago wind, mixing with the dirt.

I didn't want to cry. I had no tears left. But they came anyway.

"But Silas... I thought I was paying for her sins?" I whispered. "We had a deal. Ninety-nine photos. Ninety-nine acts of penance. I gave you six years. Six years of hell. Wasn't that enough?"

I saw a flash of something like panic in his eyes.

"Not enough," he barked, his voice trembling.

I snapped. I lunged at him, screaming. "Its enough! Its enough! I slept with you, I watched you marry her, I bled for you! Give me the phone! Delete the photos! Im taking my mother and Im leaving!"

A sharp slap sent my head spinning.

Silas looked like a stranger. His knuckles were white. He laughed, a jagged, broken sound. "You want to leave me that badly, June?"

He shoved his phone in front of my face.

There they were. All ninety-nine. Every shameful, private moment I had sacrificed my soul to delete. They were all back.

"What is this? Why are they back?"

His eyes were full of a manic, desperate kind of hate. "I'm giving you one last chance. Behave. Well replace the bride today. Itll be you. Well spend the rest of our lives together."

"Or, you can keep paying the debt."

The images flickered on the screena slideshow of my humiliation reflecting in my wide, dead eyes. I started to laugh. I was a joke. The last six years were a punchline.

"I don't want either," I said.

Warm blood began to drip onto my wrist, splashing onto Silass white collar. He looked down, his face suddenly contorting into a mask of pure horror.

But I couldn't hear him anymore. The world was tilting.

"Silas," I whispered as I hit the ground. "I don't want you."