12. Sid
SID
T he oil barrel burns bright with red and orange flames dancing out of it.
All the evil that once lingered in my home is dead.
Bad omens are removed and solace is returning to my sanctuary.
A sanctuary which has a killer fucking playlist. Brody Dalle’s “Don’t Mess with Me” plays loudly in my ears as I dance around warm flames in black fitted slacks and a black high-neckline long-sleeved shirt, paired with a black harness with gold accents and a belt.
A pair of combat boots adorn my feet while I have the time of my fucking life; my feet are still bandaged and hurt like a fucker, but fashion comes first.
Jack and Sally watch from the patio where they are lounging, gnawing on a couple ears from the freezer, basking in the full moon's energy alongside my crystal collection .
I feel renewed, ready for fucking anything, like my initiation.
Papa said I would receive the call, and once I’m provided the location, I would have only an hour to arrive. I’m excited to leave the past behind and begin my future. I also am desperate to speak to my brother, who I hope shows up this evening.
Betrayal or not, he is still blood. And the anticipation of this evening is killing me. Anxious about the unknown that this evening brings, but excited to experience it all.
Looking down at my palm, at the scar he and I share, my heart aches.
As pissed off as I am with him, I still need him.
We shared an oath, a promise to one another.
No matter what, we are always here for one another and when one takes their last breath, so will the other.
It’s very Romeo and Juliet, it’s very dramatic, and it’s very us.
Naturally, until death and after was my idea.
We were out in the yard, deep within the woods exploring.
I was twelve, he was ten. My training to become Diablo had started a couple of years prior, but he kept me grounded and reminded me how important it was to continue experiencing life as a kid, even though many aspects were infiltrated with very adult situations.
I liked it, the experiences and training.
I never fought it, but he was right, I needed to try and achieve a balance of both worlds while I could.
After exploring the woods for hours that evening, we found a place to rest and just exist, the two of us, the only two people in the world, or at least that’s what it felt like at the time. Pulling out my knife, I started playing with it between my fingers when Blaise snatched it from me.
Instinct said not to get mad, so I didn’t. Instead my eyes met his and I knew he had other plans for us. His face screamed mischief and mine begged him to take me along for the ride.
Waiting, I watched then followed his lead, cutting my palm in a single straight line like his.
We brought our hands together and let each other's blood run through us, solidifying our bond, our promise.
I felt a surge of energy blast through me in that moment, as our eyes remained looking into one another's soul, and he spoke two simple words, “For life.”
I added, “Even in death. No one without the other.” Blaise nodded, agreeing before we separated, letting the warm blood trickle down our wrists and arms.
It was after that night, the fighting with Dad and Blaise really amplified.
He became more outspoken and I don’t think either of our parents enjoyed the idea of the blood bond pact we had made that evening.
Mom was more understanding and tried to protect my brother, but sometimes he would dig such a fucking hole for himself it made it impossible.
Even though he was younger, Blaise would often speak up for me when I didn’t do it for myself.
To be clear, I didn’t need him to do this, and most of the time I was completely unaware and would be initially pissed off that he had. I was grateful for the opportunity and didn’t want anyone thinking otherwise, but he was adamant.
I learned so much from my brother growing up, he taught me to always be myself without apologies or regret.
We have one life, and we must live it.
And I do, each fucking day, for myself, for him, and for those who can’t. Take me as I am or fuck off. I have always had the confidence and self-acceptance, but as lines blurred between my childhood and adult life, he helped ensure I kept all sides of me intact.
For a kid he was so fucking wise, he absolutely got his soulful side from Mom. His short temper and not giving a fuck is all Dad. I like to think I am a cute version of both our parents, a little crazy mixed with curiosity and a little heart, it makes for an exciting time.
Turns out my little heart is a lot of heart, internally, because I feel so fucking deeply, others’ energies can impact me dearly.
Mom calls me an empath. Other people's energies tell me if they are good or bad, which is why doubt riddled my body after Abi, because my senses failed me with her, where it had never failed me before.
And as confident as I am, self-doubt can try and overpower my positive thinking.
Lying in bed at night, sometimes my mind still beats me up for that one. I try to remember that it’s okay, but it’s not always that easy. Recharging and protecting my peace is also top priority, if negativity is around me for too long, it becomes too draining .
Which then leads me to killing them or burning the evil out of this fucking place, like tonight. That vile cheating cunt tainted my sanctuary.
My focus returns to the beautiful flames before me, enchanted by their meaning and significance, until my phone vibrates in my pocket.
Taking my headphones off, I snatch it and see it’s Uncle Thomas. This fucking guy is in so much trouble, I chuckle to myself as I answer, “I heard you kicked Dad in the balls and lived to tell the tale of it,” I joke, he laughs in response.
“I don’t know what came over me, but after I realized I had, I nearly shit my pants out of fear.”
I burst out in laughter and ask, “Are you still hiding from him?”
“Fuck yes, I am terrified.” His laughter is no more, instead it has quickly turned into worry, poor guy. Dad will absolutely seek revenge but he won’t kill the guy, I don’t think.
Changing the subject, I have to know, “Have you seen my brother? I’m worried.”
A soft sigh exhales on the other end. “I’m sorry, baby Sin, I haven’t. What happened? Your dad is really mad, it’s the first time I have been genuinely worried for Blaise.”
A tear pricks my eye. “He knew some terrible things and kept it from me… until dropping off a VHS exposing it all. I was so hurt, broken even…” I pause, gathering my thoughts before rambling on because my other thoughts about Blaise are no longer relevant since Roge rs showed me the true evil among us.
“You know how Dad gets if I cry.” It’s the only explanation I need to give.
Uncle Thomas immediately understands. “I think that teacher from your middle school can attest to that.”
Dad chopped off the hand of my seventh-grade teacher, Mr. Donald.
He knew kids were picking on me, I told him several times, and he did nothing. Secretly, I think he liked watching a young girl having her lunches stolen, or shoe laces cut off her sneakers and seeing nasty notes taped to her back.
Misogynist.
Eventually it got to me when Mom asked how my day was and a river poured out of my eyes.
That night, Mr. Donald’s hand was in a box gifted to me from Dad, his body fed to the pigs, and the kids got mail a few days after Mr. Donald’s disappearance.
Individually bagged teeth with a note saying, You’re next .
I never had an issue with bullying again after that and no one has made me cry since, until now.
It’s a combination of Abi and Blaise that made my heart shatter. I will always hate Abi. Blaise is temporary, but try telling that to Dad. Like I said, this is years of buildup coming to a blow.
“Anyways, that’s not why I’m calling. The favor, I got it. Are you ready?” Uncle Thomas asks, as a giant smile adorns my face, making it past my eyes and to my brows.
I squeal in excitement. “Uncle Thomas, you are the best uncle ever!” My babies start snorting, my happiness is contagious.
Regaining composure, I think, fuck, I need to do this tonight.
A fresh start under the full moon. “Can you give me an hour then come to the slaughterhouse with it?” Squeezing my eyes shut, I try to telepathically tell Papa not to call yet.
Please, this needs to be done in order and properly.
Fuck, I hope he hears my wishes and allows me this.
Uncle Thomas interrupts my telepathy mission. “You got it, baby Sin.”
I smile, excited. “Okay, I need to get ready. See you then,” is all I say before hanging up.
Be gone, all evil. You are not welcome here.
After quickly putting out the fire, I grabbed all the extra supplies I had been dreaming of since everything came to light and changed my clothes.
Fuck rainbows and butterflies, I desire rib cutters and skull chisels.
A manic laugh releases and fills my Bentley.
Most of my equipment is at the slaughterhouse, but this is a special kill which deserves special items from my personal archives.
My babies stayed home, so I will message my mom to bring them to initiation once we get the notice. Looking in the rearview, I am so used to seeing their cute faces looking back at me. My lips, painted in dried blood-colored lipstick, pout, missing them .
The roads are quiet, it's well past midnight, and driving through the town is peaceful before the chaos.
A part of me hopes to catch a glimpse of my brother, so I can pick him up and protect him.
To return the gesture of the years of him protecting me.
Now that I know the truth, I kick myself for ever thinking he was the bad guy in all of this.
But my mind spiraled and nothing screamed out to not question his allegiance and loyalties.
My leg shakes with anxiety, it’s gone past the point of anything I ever expected and I fear I cannot save him.
The sharp points of my black press-on nails dance along the steering wheel.
“Please, Blaise, let me see you,” I softly speak to myself as my eyes look down each dark alleyway I pass. “Where are you, baby brother?”
This is all my fault, but there’s nothing I can do now other than try and fix it, try and help him.
Pleads ignored, I reach the edge of town and catch no glimpse of him. Bright lights of the town dim behind me and I am brought back into the darkness of the wild. It then occurs to me, he will likely miss my initiation. “Fuck.” We were supposed to do this together, and now I must go alone.
Silence is running through my brain and I hate it. Turning on some music, “Breakin’ Dishes” by another queen of mine, Rihanna. The beats bring me back. I am badass, I am Sid fucking Sinclair. I run a slaughterhouse and don’t give two shits about what people think of me.
As confident as I am, I have moments of doubt and sadness, and that’s okay. Because I am about to break some motherfucking dishes up in here.
Turning on my blinker, I pull into the gravel side road. My accessories piled into the car rattle as the car shakes while crunching over the gravel.
“I swear if this road ruins my hair, I will cut a bitch… Oh wait, that’s already the plan.” Smirking to myself, my headlights shine on my tunnel and the gravel turns into pavement as I pull up into it. Typically I park outside, but I have shit to unload and I am not dragging it all behind me.
Sweating in this getup is not happening.
Pulling up to my spot, the long metal chain sparkles from the reflection of my headlights. Uncle Thomas isn’t here yet, which pleases me, as it gives me extra time to set up the entire scene.
This is an event. Not a detail will be missed or compromised.
Parking my Bentley, I keep it running so I have enough lighting and my beats on to keep me moving.
Hopping out, I catch a reflection of myself on the side of the car and take the opportunity to do a quick fit check.
My feet, still decorated in white bandages, and bare legs, and reaching my thighs, white ruffled and torn tulle greets my eyes, a white lace strapless bodice wraps around my torso, and my long dark hair hangs in waves over my shoulders and down my back.
With dried blood red lipstick on my lips, I added my mother’s signature broken doll cracks on my cheeks and forehead with dark eye makeup.
Lastly, the tulle veil, it’s very eighties and I am obsessed with the dramatics of the entire piece.
Bright lights shine on me, breaking my focus. It can only be one person. Turning my head, I look toward the oncoming vehicle just as “Kill This Love” plays next. Fucking perfect.
Smiling, my teeth show and the fang toppers pinch my lip, because I wanted a piece of Dad with me here too.
The vehicle stops, and the man of the hour hops out. Uncle Thomas.
“Where do you want her?”
Giddy with excitement, and as much as I want her set up for the scene now, we have things to do first.
Rubbing my hands together, I reply, “Help me move this shit first. The traitor can wait a little longer.”