The Chamber of Sins
Chapter 2.1 "Meeting you"

The sound of an ambulance echoed in the poorly furnished room. Ivette moved her generous body in front of the kitchen table. She needed a cup of hot tea and an aspirin to wipe the persistent headache away. A girls’ night in town and a prolonged after-party with just herself and an entire bottle of Porto in her rented flat were taking their toll on her.

The city was waking up as the annoying hooters scratched the morning silence. Watching the translucent circles of vapour blurring the decor, the woman placed the cup on the sofa's wide arm. Or, she thought she did because the cup landed straight on the floor, shattering into small albescent porcelain pieces. Ivette swore and leaned over the remains.

She noticed with the corner of her eye something moving across the room.

“Button, here you are. I thought you had left for good, you lazy cat!” the woman exclaimed, turning to watch her drifter pet.

She put down a sharp piece of ceramic and crawled to pet the fluffy cat, cleaning her cheeks leisurely. Somewhere behind her, a cracking noise sounded, making her jump. “Damn morning,” she grunted and dabbed her sweaty forehead. She got up, grabbed the metal kettle, and advanced in the direction of the sound. The hallway was empty. Following people’s silhouettes, playful shadows were projected through the front glass door. Ivette approached the utility cabin door; the mollified scratchy noise seemed to be coming from behind that door, and the opaque glass revealed nothing.

The cat rubbing against her calves made the woman jump, and already annoyed, she moved back to the kitchen to feed the hungry creature.

“Stupid me,” she muttered. “Imagining being in a horror movie and all,” Ivette sighed while groping for a can of cat food in the cupboard. Her eyes only caught a glitch of the imposing obscuration oozing on half of the kitchen surface. She didn’t move, just stayed there with her face glued to the cold furniture, too scared to lift her eyes.

“Now, now, Miss Ivette. I should introduce myself properly,” a voice like a church choir spoke. “Sorry for scaring you, but I came with an urgent matter as I am in great need.”

The woman lifted her eyes. Then, swallowing with difficulty, she shrank away at the sight of the mammoth sable wing. She made the cross sign and began mumbling a prayer.

Back home after the night out, Robert felt his body stiff and hot. The night had been long, and he went to bed without undressing. He didn’t care about the smokey-solid smell that impregnated his clothes. His ears held the music's bass rhythm, drumming inside his head and mixing with his thoughts.

The boy shifted to his other side in search of a comfortable position. A light-sick sensation filled his mouth as his body began boiling. I had too much to drink, he thought. Then, with automatic movements, he undressed until he remained only in his underwear.

It was somewhere around six o’clock in the morning when Robert woke up. He staggered to the mirror, only to see his tired face with dark circles under his eyes. A sharp pain pierced his shoulder blades. The sick sensation returned, and he lurched to the toilet, prepared to vomit. The feeling stopped, leaving him with the bitter taste of the bile in his mouth. He posted himself in front of the sink and turned on the facet. Robert froze when he lifted his head and faced himself in the mirror. Deep lines in volcano colour furrowed his upper body; profound crevasses in his flesh surfaced an incredible pain. The pendant and the lines were pulsing on his chest, burning into his skin.

Again, that unbearable pain in his shoulder blades. He gritted his teeth and opened his mouth to shout for help. The skin on his back started tightening, and he felt the bones piercing through. He saw in the mirror a pair of black wings emerging from his back. Robert cried, terrified.

The boy jumped straight on his feet, awakened by his one voice. He put his right hand behind his back and felt his skin and bones; no wings. Drenched in sweat, he sat on the bed and looked for something to dry up. He returned to bed with fresh clothes on, but not before switching the nightstand lamp on.

Back at the orphanage, a voice awoke Margo from her deep trance. Sister Mary was in the hallway, demanding the child on duty to go to her room. Something in her voice made Margo follow her calling. While alive, the girl would often step into Sister Mary’s chamber, helping her with errands and sometimes reading books together. Margo loved the floral scents filling the room from the small back garden, the bloomed cherry trees in spring and the light blue sky powdered with blurred clouds. The soft trills and tweets filling the air would make her croon all day.

Sister Mary was standing in her usual spot, a rocking chair by the window. The window let a small patch of the sky be seen, allowing a few rays to come in and caress Sister Mary’s grey hair. She is nervous, Margo deduced from her left eye twitch.

A round-shouldered girl entered the room.

“Beatrice, close the door, please,” Sister Mary asked.

The girl complied without saying a word. Sister Mary came close to her and took her hands in hers.

“Have you been cleaning the rooms all week, dear?”

“Yes, Sister Mary,” the girl confirmed.

“Are you sure? Maybe you didn’t feel well and asked someone else to help you?”

“No, Sister. I have done the cleaning every day.” The girl stared at the carpet.

“Something significant to me has disappeared from my room. I am not accusing you, don’t worry, but if you do remember anything, please come and tell me.”

Sister Mary let the girl go and turned her back to the door. She picked up a cloth from the table and opened the wooden box lid hidden under it. A few pictures and letters were lying inside. An empty envelope and a rosary were hiding under them. She glared and moaned. Something bothered her.

“Someone had developed an interest in the letter's content. I wondered who is digging up an old story and why now, with Margo’s missing and all,” Sister Mary muttered.

Margo was walking towards the woman when she felt someone behind her.

A pale figure with short hair and ragged clothes flew two inches above the ground. The ghost glared at the girl briefly and vanished through the wall. Something on his face told Margo that he might know her.

“Hey, you!” Margo yelled and followed the man. Behind the wall was a small forest delimitating the neighbourhood from the national road. Fences and trees bounding the neighbours’ properties emerged, preventing her from seeing anything. She was returning when an incredible force pulled her towards the sky.

The girl flew in the air over the small city, from Main Street to the Stadium, over the freshly ploughed fields, over the cars running on the road and roofs bathed in the spring sun.

When the flying slowed, she found herself in front of a sumptuous mansion surrounded by trees with rich crowns. But then, everything began to tremble, and she continued to pass through doors until she reached the top floor.

Going through the last door was painful and confusing, yet she was curious about what was next. Bright particles in rainbow colours flooded the room. Margo felt the energy surrounding her and carrying her towards the bed. Invisible energy strings chained her by the person lying in bed. She swung her arms frantically, hoping to escape their tightness, but the chains brought her closer and closer until her face almost adhered to the person’s face. She strained her face in the other direction.

“Leave me alone,” she yelled.

The boy jerked and opened his big, round, espresso-brown eyes, and Margo saw her reflection in them. She pushed him back, her hands stopping on his well-defined chest.

“You! Who are you?” she questioned him, jumping on her feet.

“Who am I? I could ask you the same question. This is my house,” Robert said, his voice cracked and raw.