Bound By Sin

'Are You Out Of Your Mind?"

As soon as Isabella left, Genevieve closed the door, the quiet of the house pressing down on her like a weight. She leaned against the wall, her mind racing, trying to process everything that had happened. The blood, Nicholas's panicked words, the nightmares—all of it churned in her stomach, making her feel sick with fear.

Suddenly, her bedroom door slammed open with a loud bang. Genevieve jumped, her heart leaping into her throat as Anastasia stormed into the room, her face flushed with anger. The tension hit Genevieve like a wave, and before she could even open her mouth, Anastasia's voice cut through the air, sharp and accusing.

"Are you out of your mind?"

Genevieve blinked, confused, still caught in the whirlwind of the night. "What? What are you talking about?"

Anastasia's eyes blazed as she marched over, her fists clenched tightly at her sides. "I heard everything. All of it. Nicholas sneaking in here, crying about nightmares, blood on his hands—are you serious? You let him leave? You didn't tell anyone?"

Genevieve's mouth went dry. She hadn't realized Anastasia had overheard. "Anastasia, I... it's not what you think—"

"Oh, really?" Anastasia snapped, cutting her off. "Because it sounds like you're covering for him! If Nicholas is the one behind all these murders and you know it, and you're keeping quiet, you're putting everyone in danger! You need to tell Mom and Dad. You need to tell the detectives now."

Genevieve felt a cold shiver run down her spine, her mind spinning, trying to find words. "I don't know if it's him, Ana. I don't—"

"But you think it is, don't you?" Anastasia's voice was shaking now, her eyes wild with panic. "You saw blood on his hands, Genevieve! What more do you need? What if he's out there right now, doing something horrible? What if someone else dies because you didn't say anything?"

Genevieve opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out. She couldn't find the words. She was stuck in a limbo of doubt and fear. Anastasia stepped closer, her expression a mixture of frustration and desperation.

"Look at me, Gen!" Anastasia demanded, her voice rising. "If you know something, you have to speak up! You can't stay quiet just because he's your friend. If Nicholas is... if he's guilty, you have to tell someone. You have to stop him before it's too late."

Genevieve felt her stomach twist painfully, her head spinning. She couldn't wrap her mind around it. The image of Nicholas's tear-streaked face, his shaking hands, the blood—none of it made sense, none of it fit with the boy she had known for years.

"I don't know what to do," she whispered, barely able to hear her own voice over the pounding of her heart. "I don't know if it's him. What if he's innocent? What if he's just... scared and confused?"

Anastasia shook her head, her frustration palpable. "Scared and confused doesn't explain blood, Genevieve! It doesn't explain why he's having nightmares about killing himself, or why the detectives are circling him like vultures! If there's even a chance that it's him, you can't stay silent. You need to do the right thing. We all do."

Genevieve's chest tightened, her breath coming in shallow gasps. Her mind was a storm of conflicting thoughts, fear gnawing at her insides. She didn't know what to believe anymore. Everything felt wrong, twisted, like the ground was crumbling beneath her feet.

Anastasia's voice softened, but it was no less urgent. "Genevieve, I'm scared too. But if you know something and you don't say anything, that makes you just as responsible. If you wait too long and something else happens..."

Genevieve stared at her sister, her throat tightening, her mind blank. She felt paralyzed, trapped between loyalty to Nicholas and the growing terror that maybe, just maybe, he wasn't who she thought he was. But how could she turn him in? How could she accuse him of something so horrific when she didn't even know for sure?

Anastasia's eyes searched her face, waiting for an answer, but all Genevieve could do was stand there, silent, her thoughts spinning uselessly in circles. She couldn't move, couldn't speak. The weight of the night's events pressed down on her chest, making it hard to breathe.

Anastasia let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through her hair. "You can't stay silent, Genevieve," she said, her voice low but firm. "This isn't something you can just ignore. You have to tell someone."

But Genevieve still didn't answer. She couldn't. Her mind was a whirlpool of fear, confusion, and doubt, pulling her deeper into the dark uncertainty of what was happening around her.

Anastasia threw her hands up in frustration, pacing across the room. "Fine," she said finally, her voice cold and hard. "But if you don't tell them, I will. I'm not going to sit by and watch people die because you're too scared to face the truth."

Genevieve watched her sister, feeling the weight of those words sink in, knowing that no matter what happened next, everything was going to change. She couldn't stay in this limbo much longer, but the thought of making a decision—any decision—felt impossible.

Anastasia turned toward the door, her face a mask of anger and fear. "If Nicholas is involved, I'm not letting him get away with it. I don't care what you do, but I'm not going to sit by and wait for something terrible to happen."

And with that, she stormed out of the room, leaving Genevieve standing there, her mind numb, her heart heavy. She stood there for what felt like hours, staring at the door, the silence thick around her.

Finally, she let out a long, shaky sigh, sinking back onto the edge of her bed. She didn't know what to think anymore, didn't know what to believe. All she knew was that the world she had once trusted was falling apart, piece by piece.

And she didn't know how to stop it.