Sin Eater

By: Amanda Denham

70,485 words

Before

The first time I knew something was wrong with me was when I was eighteen. All I was trying to do was help, but instead, I did the worst thing I could have possibly done. What’s bad is that I didn’t even mean to. I had no control over it. My best friend was upset, and it made me sad, too. I wanted her to feel better. I wanted her to forget.

I did succeed, in a way.

        I made her forget the one that hurt her.

        But in the process, she forgot her family, her school, her friends…

        I even made her forget me.

Now - Purpose

        The sun has set. I like when nightime comes. It gives me more shadows, more places to blend myself in as I make my way around the city. It isn’t a big place by any means, but I’d rather be safe than sorry. Getting caught on the street means questions, and questions lead to prying and pushing and pulling.

        I would feel like I do in the sun – exposed and naked. Nowhere to hide.

        I scan the streets carefully, and I take every shortcut that I can think of. I cut across a couple of people’s backyards safely- nobody sees me on this dark, dreary night. The slight drizzle is hanging in the air like a cold curtain. There really isn’t a way to shield yourself, even with an umbrella. I, however, go without one. I don’t even have a jacket.

        Nobody would be out on a night like this…except for me. I have a job to take care of.

        Everyone has a job, a purpose, a calling. Mine just so happens to be a little different. Mine has to be done in secret. That is why I must stay hidden.

        I find the client’s address easily. I once lived in this small town over two years ago, so I know the roads almost as well as the back of my hand. The client has left a key underneath his back door’s floor mat, as promised. I slip into the house quickly, taking one last look around to make sure that I was not followed. The house is dark inside, but I can see a dim light coming from a room down the hall. This was also planned – one room, one light, one client, and one person on my side to supervise.

        I step into the room quietly, but both of its inhabitants raise their heads simultaneously as I enter. The client, a Mr. Gardner, looks at me with a puzzled look on his face.

        “You’re the Sin Eater?” Mr. Gardner chokes out. He looks like he regrets the words as soon as they’re out of his mouth. “You’re….different than I expected you to be,” he finishes sheepishly, looking down at his hands.

        “Nothing is ever what you expect,” my boss, Jak, says solemnly.
        Jak is always the supervisor for my cases, but he uses different disguises for every job. Since there are only two of us running this operation, it’s dangerous to let people know our very low number. I am an incredibly valuable possession because of my gift, Jak says, so I have to be as protected as possible. However, instead of hiring other people, he has created an illusion for our clients by looking as different as possible every time he is seen. This time, he has chosen a wig with shoulder-length, jet black hair and seems to have dabbed make-up on his skin to make himself appear much darker than he actually is. His green eyes are now a vibrant purple thanks to contacts, and he’s wearing a black suit, shoes, and tie.

        The client swallows hard and nods. I feel sorry for him, but I maintain my indifferent expression. This is a job, nothing more.

        “What do you want me to do for you?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady. I already know what he wants – His wife died, and he wants to forget the circumstances surrounding her death. Jak showed me his paperwork earlier today as he was making preparations. But this is how things have to be- I have to hear them explain all the details myself. Jak only tells me the basics, so usually whatever the client divulges to me is a surprise.

        “My wife…” he begins slowly. He shakes his head and sits up straighter in his chair. “My wife passed away a month ago. She was shot by a man who broke into our house.”

        “Go on,” Jak says impatiently.

        The man’s eyes widen. I can tell that he doesn’t want me to know what exactly happened. The look on his face makes me want to turn and run away, to never look back.  Honestly, though, I feel that way about every job that Jak makes me do.

        “I… could have saved her, but I wasn’t here.”

        My blood runs cold. I look hard at him, wishing that my stare could physically hurt him. Maybe it does... He is cringing.

        “And where were you?” I ask, trying to keep the anger out of my voice. By the way he is acting, I already know the answer.

        “…With another woman. In a hotel. A woman from my office.”  He begins to cry then, huge sobs of pain. “Please,” he chokes out as he cradles his face in his hands, “please, let me forget! I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. I can’t go back to work. It’s all my fault, and I can’t live with it! I can’t!”

        Jak hands me an ink pen and a notebook. I tear a page out of the notebook, and then I slide the paper and pen onto a small table standing next to the man’s chair.

        “Write out everything you want to forget. Be very careful. You will forget, but you have to be very specific. I can’t even guarantee that you won’t lose more of your memory than you want.”

        The man wipes his nose on his shirt sleeve.  “I don’t care. Anything is better than this.”

        He begins to hastily scribble his story onto the paper. I see a woman’s name, Caroline… probably his wife’s. He rereads it just once, and then delicately hands it back to me.  

        “He requested fire,” Jak chimes in suddenly, and it makes me jump. The room was so quiet except for the man’s crying that his voice sounds almost too loud.

        Jak then hands me a match. I read the man’s note once, then again and again. Jak looks at me sternly, so I breathe in deeply and finally light the match. I always get nervous, though I should be used to this by now. I hold the match closely to the paper until it begins to turn a smoky brown. Mr. Gardner closes his eyes and bows his head. As the fire burns, I close my eyes as well and concentrate on the man’s words as much as I can:

        Burglar.  Mistress.  Murder.  Guilt.  Regret.

                Caroline.

        The paper turns to ash quickly, and I open my eyes just as it’s about to burn my fingers. The man’s eyes are now glazed over, much more peaceful than they were mere seconds ago. Jak nods and then disappears down the hall. That is his sign that the job is done.

                                The client has forgotten.

        I take what is most precious to people: their memory. It’s so simple. Give me your woes, and I can make you forget them. I could make you forget everything, if I really wanted to. I cure wounded people and give them a second chance.

        …However, their second chance means parts of their lives are completely missing, gone forever. They will never know that self again, nor will they remember those who were lost. They can continue on with their life in ignorant bliss, but I will always know. I will carry it for them within my own memory. Their troubles will stay with me for the rest of my life.

        Yes, I will erase, I will cover, I will bury.

        But I will always remember. I save and I hurt, all at once.