How to Make a Sinner Sleep

01 | sinners; we will burn together

One begins to regret things at the end of their lives, at their deathbed. Memories flashed by like a movie film playing back, echoing scenes and little details that had been forgotten in time.

He knew it was the end of his life, staring at the ripples of reflection in the clear lake.

It was a serene yet unsettling feeling, as his body slowly begun to shut down—starting at the tip of his numb toes, up his tingling spine and even to the point his eyes felt numb, unblinking.

It had been a short life, really. He hadn't even made it to 30.

There'd been nothing good about his life, except for his exile from the Kingdom. A wretched, pointless 29 years it'd been, decided the man as he slumped to the side, rolling over onto his back.

The sky seemed especially bright, although stormy clouds huddled together and only the slightest slivers of sun peeked desperately from behind.

Jealousy had been his downfall, but he considered it his blessing, too.

But if he could take back what he did, he would. Really.

'Do you regret it?'

The voice mumbled in his mind, vibrating against his bone as he frowned. If this was a side effect to death, he hoped it wouldn't last long.

Going insane moments before dying wasn't exactly something he looked forward to. Instead, he closed his eyes and decided to accept the temporary voice.

His voice wasn't working properly, but in his head, his words rung clearly. "I regret it."

The innocent lives stolen away by his hands. The blood that could never be washed away, and the tears he caused, pointlessly. Cruelly.

What had possessed him to become such a terrible entity?

Kaden Alluin Chauvet.

A name that would go down in history as the worst man alive.

A sinner punished and sentenced with not death, but exile. A lifetime of loneliness that had been the very thing he wanted to prevent.

In striving to remain in the company of people, he'd chased them all away, subjected to scornful gazes.

An orphan taken in by the Royal family, blessed with a last name that had the power to command. He had honour and riches, a treasury of items compared to his hopeless life in the slums.

At least, that was what was assumed.

He'd watched his mother's throat be slit within a falling apart house as he curled up in the corner, and watched his father leave with another woman in his arms, not leaving a penny or an item to remember him by.

The man had succumbed to alcohol and despair after Kaden's mother's death, then seduced by a young lady who would play with him like a toy.

The issue was that no matter how pathetic one's life could've been at a time, it couldn't excuse the actions that they chose in the future.

Life as a noble had welcomed him with closed arms. It did not want the scum of the slums, discriminating against his very existence.

Kaden tolerated the sneers from the servants, and the bugs sneaked into his soup and meals. In fact, after starving for so long on those chilling streets, he simply picked them out and ate the rest.

He had happily embraced the new relationships that started off as pure, then continued to hold them as they branched out with thorns that pierced his skin.

He endured the teasing from his new elder brother, the schemes of his younger, and the careful stares that judged his every step and move, every twitch of his finger and parting of his mouth.