Page 54 of Taint My Soul

I look through the first five pages, eyes skimming through the letters and words. I skip through the pages to the end. Nothing was written in the rest of the journal except at the beginning and a little in the middle.

Then my eyes find a page partly soaked in red.

My heart thuds violently against my chest. My hands tremble, the journal quivering in my palm, when I see the words on the pages. Part ink. Part blood.

Desire is a sickness.

I am weak.

Desire is a sickness.

I am weak.

Desire is a sickness.

I am weak.

Desire is a sickness.

My heart clenches with a feeling I can’t name.

The words go on and on for some pages to the point where the writing becomes incomprehensible. But he doesn’t stop. He keeps writing. Page after page. Same words. Same sentences.

I shut it and put it into the box, chest heaving for air. I pick up the box to put it back inside the storage compartment, too baffled by the emotions I’m feeling.

I shouldn’t even be here.

I shouldn’t be in his room.

I shouldn’t have gone through his things.

As I withdraw my hand from the hidden space, my fingers brush against something else. I lean in a little more until I can grab it and pull it out.

I roll it open, eyes hovering over black ink against white paper.

It’s a map of Kingston city.

I lay it out on the floor and take a look. There are about five places on the city map marked in red x. Out of the five, only four are enclosed in blue circles except for the King family’s estate.

I pull out my phone and take a picture of the map. This must mean something. Perhaps it’s all their secret hideouts. If Vincent called in an anonymous tip, law enforcement could find something at one of these places.

I roll up the map and place it back in the compartment before I fix in the wooden slides and place the shoes exactly how I’d found them.

When I leave the room, I head straight into the shower, heart thudding against my chest as I stand in front of the mirror and stare at myself. Fuck, why do I feel a tinge of guilt for finally breaking through this? I should be relieved. If this works out, then I’m done. I’m leaving Kingston for good. I’m starting a whole new life. Hope clenches my chest feverishly, but I don’t revel in the excitement just yet.

A part of me worries that Vincent might never let me go. That I’d become his personal puppet. His pawn forever. But either way, I can only know what happens when I give him what I have.

Yet the words I found in that journal still haunt my mind.

What had happened in Saint’s life that made him keep that journal? Who had taught him those things? Who had made him hate himself? Who had scarred him in a way that he wrote those horrible things about himself? This must be the reason he’s so closed off, why he never accepts care.

Because he thinks feelings make him a weak man.

Because he thinks desire is wrong.

I enter the shower and twist the knob. Warm water streams down my back, uncoiling the tension in my bones, but it’s still not enough to purge the thoughts running through my head. When I’m done, I head downstairs to meet with Bernard. I knock on his door and wait for him to answer. “Do you know where he drove off to?”

“Yes. The TK. I can drive you.”