Darling Sinners

Prologue

I have always found it fascinating how easily monsters hide in plain sight.

They're always the ones you never expect—the quiet souls you would never suspect.

History is full of monsters who shocked everyone simply because they looked so ordinary. Even when people grew suspicious, they often escaped judgment because they had the privilege of looking like they belonged.

It's easy to blend into a crowd when you look like everyone else. You don't suspect the quiet ones—the ones who smile politely and treat everyone with respect.

You would never think the friendly neighbor next door has a basement filled with his victims' bones.

You certainly wouldn't imagine that the woman who lovingly prepares dinner for her husband every night has been slipping arsenic into his food, little by little.

Or that the boy sitting quietly at the back of the classroom will one day walk through its doors carrying a gun.

People always seem to describe monsters with the same words.

Kind, respectful, quiet.

"I never thought they were capable of something like this."

Yet those are often the most terrifying monsters of all.

The sinners who blend into the crowd.

The ones who wear halos until they're ready to reveal their horns.

And, dear reader, let me tell you something.

I used to be one of them.

Hidden in plain sight, wearing a halo of my own until I revealed my horns.

The story you're about to read will show you exactly how doomed I am.

But before you judge me,

ask yourself one simple question.

Was anyone ever truly a saint to begin with?