The Sinner

by Emma Scott

bravery, I’d read, wasn’t doing something because you were unafraid. It was being afraid and doing it anyway.

“Grief isn’t weakness,” I said quietly. “It’s a sign of love. It’s love that endures—”

“Drawing a man to your light is a worthy cause, Lucy Dennings. Your happiness is a worthy cause. I can think of nothing worthier.”

“Sometimes the loneliness is so much, and the silence is so loud, I read romance novels until my head aches, and I think until it feels like I’m drilling into myself. Like excavation. As if I’m mining for memories I don’t have, certain that there is more to me than this. There has to be. But I can’t find it. Whatever it is, it’s always out of reach. I drop a stone into the well of my heart and I keep listening for it to hit something real. But it never does.”

“Humans are infinitely more powerful than my kind.” He leaned on the railing casually, as if we weren’t in the midst of a downpour. “I’ll let you in on a little trade secret: The only way we can defeat you is if you let us. Good luck, dove.”