Bound By Sin

Visitor.

The sound of rustling outside her window startled Genevieve, making her sit up in bed. Her room was dimly lit by the moon filtering through the curtains, casting eerie shadows across the walls. She froze for a moment, heart pounding in her chest, before she heard a familiar voice, whispered but urgent.

"Gen, please... let me in."

It was Nicholas.

Without hesitation, she rushed to the window, her fingers fumbling with the latch before she slid it open. Nicholas slipped through, his movements quick but unsteady, like a shadow creeping into the night. As soon as his feet hit the floor, she noticed it—the way he trembled, the way his eyes darted around the room as if he was being hunted.

"Nicholas," she whispered, stepping closer. "What's going on? Are you okay?"

He didn't answer right away. His breathing was ragged, almost suffocated, and as he stood there, his back slightly hunched, he looked more broken than she had ever seen him. There was a wildness in his eyes that sent a shiver down her spine.

"Did you see something?" she asked, her voice tightening with concern.

Nicholas' shoulders shook, and he collapsed into a heap on the edge of her bed, his hands covering his face. Then the tears came, sudden and heavy, like a dam breaking under too much pressure.

"I can't do this anymore," he choked out, his voice hoarse with fear. "I'm having nightmares, Genevieve. Every night... I see myself... killing myself." He sobbed harder, his whole body trembling violently.

Genevieve's breath caught in her throat. The horror of his words settled over her like a dark, suffocating cloud. "Oh my God, Nick," she murmured, rushing to his side and wrapping her arms around him. He was cold, his skin damp with sweat. She could feel the panic rolling off him in waves, the way his heart seemed to be racing out of control.

"Shh, it's okay," she whispered, though her own heart was hammering against her ribcage. "You're not alone. I'm here. You're safe. Nothing's going to happen to you."

But he shook his head furiously, his words tumbling out between gasps for breath. "It's the detectives... they—they think it's me, Gen. They're looking at me like I'm some kind of... some kind of monster! I can't... I can't handle it. I don't know what's real anymore. What if I'm the one... what if I did something?"

His voice cracked, the fear so raw, so palpable, that it made her stomach churn. Genevieve squeezed him tighter, trying to ground him, to pull him back from the edge of whatever dark thoughts were consuming him.

"No, no, don't say that," she said softly, her own unease growing, but she kept her voice steady. "You didn't do anything, Nick. They're just trying to scare you, make you feel like a suspect. But I know you. We all do. You're not capable of... of hurting anyone."

His breathing slowed, but his body still shook in her arms. It was then that she noticed something—his hands, shaking violently in his lap. There was something off about them, something that made her stomach drop. A dark smudge on his fingers, barely noticeable in the dim light, but unmistakable.

Blood.

Genevieve's throat tightened. For a moment, she couldn't breathe. She wanted to pull away, to ask him what had happened, but the words stuck in her mouth. Instead, she swallowed the lump in her throat, forcing herself to stay calm.

"I—I'm sorry," Nicholas mumbled, pulling away slightly to wipe his eyes. "I didn't mean to scare you. I just... I needed someone to talk to. I'm losing it, Gen. Every night it's the same. I dream of it... of the blood... of me..."

He trailed off, his voice a whisper of anguish. Genevieve bit the inside of her cheek, her eyes flicking once more to his hands, to the blood that seemed to stain them. She couldn't ignore the sinking feeling creeping into her chest, but she couldn't say anything—not now, not while he was like this.

"It's just stress, Nick," she said, her voice firmer now, even as her mind raced. "You've been under so much pressure. These detectives are messing with your head, making you doubt yourself. But you have to stay strong. They don't have anything on you. You didn't do anything wrong."

He nodded slowly, but the tension in his body hadn't lessened. "I—I need to wash my face," he muttered, running a hand through his hair, his voice hoarse. "Can I... use your bathroom?"

"Of course," Genevieve said, her voice almost too quick. "It's just down the hall."

She watched as he walked toward the door, his steps unsteady, his figure disappearing into the darkness of the hallway. As soon as he was gone, she exhaled shakily, the unease settling deeper into her bones. Her eyes drifted to the spot on the bed where he had sat, wondering—whose blood was that? She couldn't shake the question, couldn't push away the gnawing fear that something was horribly wrong.

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

A few minutes later, Nicholas returned, his hands clean, no trace of the blood left behind. His face was pale, but there was a calmness about him now, a strange stillness.

"Feeling better?" she asked softly, though her stomach still twisted with worry.

He nodded. "A little. Thank you for... for letting me stay here. I didn't know where else to go."

"You can always come to me, Nick," she said, forcing a small smile. "You don't have to do this alone."

For a while, they sat in silence. Genevieve kept her eyes on him, her heart torn between fear and concern. The Nicholas she knew was slipping away, replaced by someone haunted, someone unraveling.

Eventually, Nicholas stood up, his shoulders sagging with exhaustion. "I should go," he murmured, though his voice still wavered.

"You sure?" Genevieve asked, standing as well. "You can stay as long as you need."

But he shook his head. "No. I... I'll be okay. I just need to sleep... try to sleep."

She walked him to the window, watching as he climbed out, his figure disappearing into the night. But even after he was gone, the feeling of unease lingered in the room, clinging to her skin like a shadow she couldn't shake.

And as she closed the window and locked it, the image of his blood-stained hands stayed with her, gnawing at her mind, a dark whisper she couldn't ignore.