Bound By Sin

Locked In.

Genevieve sat in the living room, staring at the TV screen that had been playing the news on loop for hours. The headline never seemed to change: "Another Body Found: Police Urge Residents to Stay Indoors." The sound of the rain hitting the windows was the only thing that interrupted the static buzz from the television.

Her parents sat at the dining table, talking quietly among themselves. Genevieve could feel the tension in the air—it had been like this for a week. No one was allowed outside, and the police had made sure to knock on every door, ensuring that parents understood the gravity of the situation.

Nicholas, sitting beside her on the couch, was tapping his fingers rhythmically against his knee. He had been staying with her family these last couple days, since he had no family. He hadn't spoken much about the situations, but his silence said everything.

"I'm so sick of this," Genevieve muttered, finally breaking the stillness. "Just sitting here, waiting for the next person to die."

Her mother looked up sharply. "Genevieve, that's not something to joke about."

"I'm not joking," Genevieve said, her voice rising. "I'm scared. We're all scared, and the police aren't telling us anything real. They just keep saying to stay inside, but what good is that really doing?"

Nicholas sighed and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "I get it," he said quietly. "But we don't have a choice. We have to stay here. There's nothing out there but..."

He didn't finish, but Genevieve knew what he meant. There was nothing out there but death. Her gaze softened, and she nudged his arm. "You can stay here as long as you need."

"I know. Thanks."

*****************************

A couple streets away, Isabella paced her bedroom for the fifth time that hour. Her father had barricaded the front door, and the windows were shut so tightly she could barely get a breath of fresh air. Her room felt like a prison, with only the hum of her phone in her hand to keep her company. She scrolled aimlessly through messages, none of them helpful, none of them providing answers.

Her little brother peeked into her room. "Isa, when can we go outside again?"

"I don't know, Marcus," she said, trying to keep her frustration in check. "Not for a while, I think."

Marcus looked up at her with wide eyes. "Are the bad people going to come here?"

Isabella knelt down and put her hands on his shoulders. "No, the police are out there. They'll keep us safe." She hoped that was true.

Her mother's voice called from downstairs. "Isabella, dinner!"

"I'll be down in a second!" she shouted back before turning back to Marcus. "Go, I'll be right behind you."

As he ran off, she sank onto her bed, rubbing her temples. She had thought of sneaking out once or twice, maybe just to get some air, to escape the suffocating silence of the house. But every time, the thought of the killings stopped her. Who would be next? Could it be one of them? The idea of her family—her little brother—falling victim to this nightmare made her stomach twist in knots.

****************************

Theodore sat at his desk, tapping a pencil against the edge as he stared out the window. His bedroom faced the street, but it had been eerily quiet all week. No cars, no people, just the occasional patrol vehicle from the police slowly cruising by, watching like hawks.