"Ana, That's Fucking Crazy."

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Anastasia stood outside Genevieve's door, her heart pounding as she prepared for the conversation that weighed heavily on her mind. Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door open, stepping into the soft glow of her sister's room. Genevieve lay sprawled on her bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, lost in her thoughts.

"Gen?" Anastasia said, her voice breaking the stillness. "Can we talk?"

Genevieve turned her head, surprise flickering across her face. "What's up, Ana? You look serious."

Without responding verbally, Anastasia walked over and sat down next to her sister on the bed, her expression grave. "Gen, we need to discuss something important."

Genevieve straightened, sensing the tension in the air. "Okay... what is it?"

Anastasia hesitated for a moment, gathering her thoughts. "Gen, what if Nick is the killer?"

The words hung in the air like a thunderclap, and Genevieve's breath caught in her throat. "Huh?" she stammered, eyes wide in disbelief. "Ana, that's fucking crazy."

But Anastasia didn't look away, her gaze steady and intense. "Just think about it. He's been acting really strange lately. The detectives keep bringing him in for questioning, and he's been so on edge. It just feels... off."

Genevieve shook her head, her disbelief transforming into frustration. "You can't be serious. Nick is not a killer. He's scared—he's just as freaked out as the rest of us."

"But what if his fear is hiding something darker?" Anastasia pressed, her voice rising slightly with urgency. "He gets nervous, and when people are scared, they can lash out. What if he's trying to deflect suspicion?"

Genevieve's heart raced, a mix of anger and confusion surging through her. "Ana, you can't just throw around accusations like that! You know him. He's been nothing but good to us. He's my friend."

"Gen, I'm not saying I know for sure, but look at the facts!" Anastasia replied, her tone firm. "Every time he's around, it feels tense. What if he's hiding something? What if he's trying to divert our attention?"

Genevieve stood up abruptly, her anger boiling over. "No! You're not making any sense. Nick has been there for us through all of this. You can't just throw around wild theories!"

"Why not?!" Anastasia shot back, her frustration bubbling to the surface. "You need to consider every possibility. If we're all in danger, we can't afford to overlook anything!"

Genevieve felt her pulse quicken, the weight of her sister's words pressing down on her. "You're being ridiculous! You're going to ruin everything with this kind of thinking. We're all scared, and now you want to add paranoia on top of it?"

"Gen, I'm just trying to help you see the bigger picture! If he is hiding something, we need to be prepared!" Anastasia insisted, her voice trembling slightly with emotion.

"Help me see what? That I should suspect my friend? That I should turn my back on him because you've got some crazy theory?" Genevieve exclaimed, her voice sharp.

Anastasia stood up, her hands clenched into fists. "I'm not trying to be dramatic! I'm trying to keep you safe. If Nick is capable of something like this, we need to know!"

Genevieve's heart raced with anger and hurt. "You're wrong, Ana! You're wrong, and you're being unfair! Just leave me alone if you're going to talk like this!"

Seeing that they were going in circles, Anastasia let out a heavy sigh, her shoulders slumping in defeat. "Fine. I'll leave you to think," she said quietly, turning on her heel and walking toward the door.

"Good!" Genevieve snapped, though guilt crept into her voice.

As the door clicked shut behind Anastasia, Genevieve sank back onto her bed, a storm of emotions swirling inside her. She stared at the ceiling, her mind racing with what had just transpired. The anger slowly ebbed away, leaving behind a gnawing uncertainty.

Could she really dismiss what Anastasia had said? The thought hung in the air like a dark cloud. Nicholas was scared; he had confided in her about the detectives, about how they were pressuring him. But what if... what if Ana was right? What if there was something deeper, something he hadn't shared?

"No," she whispered to herself, shaking her head vehemently. "No, that's impossible." But the doubts gnawed at her, and she couldn't shake the image of Nicholas's troubled face from her mind.

The room felt stifling, and Genevieve swung her legs over the side of the bed, pacing back and forth. She ran a hand through her hair, her heart racing. "What if?" The question echoed in her mind, relentless.

She stopped in front of the mirror, staring at her reflection. "He wouldn't hurt anyone," she murmured, trying to convince herself. But even as she spoke, she felt a chill creeping down her spine, a sense of foreboding that made her skin crawl.

The thought of Nicholas, her friend, possibly being involved in something so horrific sent a wave of nausea through her. She wanted to trust him, but what if that trust was misplaced? The idea felt like a betrayal of everything they'd shared.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand, snapping her out of her spiraling thoughts. She glanced at the screen, seeing a message from Isabella, checking in. But even the thought of reaching out felt heavy now. What would she even say?

Genevieve picked up the phone, typing a quick reply before putting it back down. "Focus," she whispered to herself. "Just focus on what you know." But as she did, the image of Nicholas's anxious expression returned, the way he'd fidgeted during their last conversation, the way his eyes had darted nervously.

Could there be something he was hiding? A piece of the puzzle that she couldn't see? The tension in her chest tightened as she sat back down on her bed, clutching the comforter. She closed her eyes, breathing deeply, trying to push the doubts away, but they lingered like shadows, refusing to be dismissed.

"Why would he lie?" she murmured, but even as she asked, a tiny voice in the back of her mind answered, "To protect himself."

Genevieve opened her eyes, frustration mounting. "No! I can't think like this. I won't." She stood up again, pacing her room, the weight of the uncertainty pressing down on her.

But as the minutes turned into an hour, the seed of doubt planted by Anastasia grew roots in her mind. She couldn't shake the fear that if she didn't consider every angle, she might be overlooking something critical. The thought made her sick to her stomach.

She finally flopped back onto her bed, staring at the ceiling once more. "What do I do?" she whispered into the silence, feeling utterly lost. The shadows in her room felt darker now, echoing the chaos in her mind.

And as the night deepened, Genevieve found herself trapped in a spiral of doubt and fear, caught between the loyalty she felt for Nicholas and the unsettling questions that refused to leave her thoughts. The line between friend and foe blurred in the dim light, leaving her alone with her fears.

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