Bound By Sin

"It's Okay."

For what felt like an eternity, the room was filled with a heavy, suffocating silence. Genevieve's heart pounded in her chest as she sat frozen on the edge of her bed, staring at Nicholas, who was still crumpled on the floor, his face buried in his hands. The weight of his confession lingered in the air, pressing down on her like a vice, but something shifted inside her. She saw the broken boy in front of her—the same boy who had been her friend for years, the one who had always been there for her, the one who was now unraveling completely.

Tears welled in Genevieve's eyes, and her throat tightened as she tried to make sense of the storm of emotions inside her. Fear was still there, gripping her heart, but there was something else now—something softer. She felt a strange, inexplicable urge to comfort him, to hold him together even though she wasn't sure she could hold herself together.

Slowly, her body acting on its own, she slid off the bed and sat down on the floor next to him. Her hands trembled as she reached out, hesitating for just a moment before gently pulling Nicholas into her arms. His body tensed at first, as though he didn't expect the contact, but then he collapsed into her, his head resting against her shoulder, his tears soaking into her shirt.

"It's okay," she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion. "It's okay, Nick."

Nicholas let out a shaky breath, and then he broke. Sobs racked his body, raw and painful, as he clung to her like a lifeline. His arms wrapped around her tightly, his hands gripping the fabric of her shirt as though he were afraid she might disappear if he let go. The sound of his crying filled the room, and Genevieve felt her own tears spill over, streaking down her cheeks as she held him close.

"I'm sorry," he choked out between sobs. "I'm so sorry, Gen. I don't know what's wrong with me. I didn't want any of this. I don't want to be like this."

Genevieve closed her eyes, her heart aching at the pain in his voice. She could feel the brokenness in him, the way his grief had twisted him into something unrecognizable. But despite the terror that still gnawed at her insides, she whispered again, "It's okay. I'm here."

Nicholas sobbed harder, his breath hitching as he struggled to speak. "I didn't mean for this to happen. I didn't mean for any of it. I just... I didn't know how to stop. It made me feel like I had control, like I could fix everything."

Genevieve's arms tightened around him, her hand resting gently on the back of his head as she tried to soothe him, though her own heart was still racing. She wanted to comfort him, but she couldn't shake the fear that had rooted itself deep inside her.

"I know," she whispered, her voice shaking. "I know, Nick."

His sobs slowly quieted, his breathing still uneven as he leaned into her. "You must hate me," he muttered, his voice barely audible. "You must think I'm a monster."

Genevieve swallowed hard, her throat burning with the weight of her own unspoken fears. She didn't hate him—she couldn't. But she was terrified of him, of what he had done, of what he could still do. Even as she held him, feeling the warmth of his body against hers, that fear sat heavy in her chest.

"I don't hate you," she whispered, though the words felt hollow, like they weren't entirely true. "I'm not going to tell anyone. I'll... I'll help you get through this."

Nicholas pulled back slightly, looking up at her with red-rimmed eyes, his face streaked with tears. "How can you help me? There's nothing left to fix, Gen. I'm too far gone."

Genevieve shook her head, blinking away her own tears as she forced a small, shaky smile. "No. You're not too far gone. We can figure this out. Together. I'll help you."

His eyes searched hers, desperate and broken, and for a moment, she thought she saw a flicker of hope in them. "You... you'll really help me? You won't leave me?"

"I won't leave you," she whispered, her voice softer now, almost soothing. "I promise."

Nicholas let out a shuddering breath, his body still trembling as he leaned back into her, his arms wrapping around her again. He rested his head against her shoulder, and for a moment, the room felt still again, the only sound the quiet hum of their uneven breathing.

But deep down, Genevieve was struggling to keep herself together. She was terrified—more terrified than she had ever been in her life. She could feel Nicholas' vulnerability in the way he clung to her, the way he had bared his soul to her, but that didn't erase the fact that he had killed people. The boy she was holding in her arms had taken lives, and no matter how much she wanted to help him, no matter how much she cared about him, she couldn't shake the fear that he was capable of anything.

She closed her eyes, trying to calm the storm inside her. She had to keep him calm. She had to keep him from falling apart completely, from doing something worse. But the more she thought about it, the more she realized how helpless she was in this situation. She didn't know how to fix him. She didn't know how to make any of this right.

"I'll help you," she whispered again, more for herself than for him. "I'll help you."

Nicholas' grip on her tightened, and he whispered back, "You're the only one who can. You're the only one who understands."

Genevieve's heart ached at the rawness in his voice, but fear continued to coil in her chest. She didn't understand—not fully. She didn't understand how he could have done the things he had, how he could have let himself become the person he was now. But she nodded anyway, because what else could she do? She had promised him she wouldn't leave, and now she was bound by that promise.

"Thank you," Nicholas whispered, his voice breaking again. "Thank you for not giving up on me."

Genevieve stared at the wall, her vision blurring as more tears slipped down her cheeks. She wasn't sure she had the strength to hold him together, to be what he needed her to be. But in that moment, all she could do was hold him and pretend that everything was going to be okay, even though deep down, she wasn't sure it ever would be.

As Nicholas cried quietly in her arms, Genevieve's mind raced with the weight of the secret she now carried. The room felt colder, darker, and even though she was holding him, she had never felt more alone.

"I'll help you," she whispered one last time, her voice barely audible. "I'll help you."

But deep down, as Nicholas buried his face in her shoulder, Genevieve knew the truth. She was terrified of him—terrified of what he had done, and terrified of what he might still be capable of.