Bound By Sin

'YOU RUINED MY LIFE!"

Genevieve could feel the weight of her family's eyes on her as she stumbled downstairs, her face streaked with tears, her body shaking from the aftermath of her breakdown. The house was silent except for the sound of her bare feet padding across the floor. She could feel her mom, dad, and Anastasia watching her closely, their concern palpable, but she didn't have the energy to meet their gazes.

She walked straight into the kitchen, grabbed a glass from the cupboard, and filled it with water. Her hands trembled as she lifted the glass to her lips, trying to steady her breathing, but every sip felt like a knot in her throat. The cold liquid did nothing to soothe the fire raging inside her.

"Genevieve," her mom, Victoria, said softly from the doorway, her voice pleading. "Honey, please talk to us..."

Genevieve ignored her. She put the glass down with a sharp clink, her eyes distant, her mind already made up. She couldn't stay here. Not right now.

"Gen, please," Nathaniel said, stepping closer. "We know this is hard. We're here for you. You don't have to do this alone."

Anastasia stayed silent, her wide eyes brimming with unshed tears. She knew what was coming, knew where Genevieve was about to go.

But Genevieve didn't respond. She didn't look at any of them. Instead, she turned and walked out of the kitchen, heading for the front door.

"Genevieve," Victoria called after her, a trace of panic in her voice. "Where are you going?"

Again, Genevieve didn't respond. She pushed the door open and stepped outside, the cool night air hitting her like a slap to the face. The silence outside was deafening, the only sound her own breathing and the thudding of her heart in her chest.

Her family followed her, their footsteps soft behind her, but none of them tried to stop her. They didn't reach for her, didn't pull her back. They knew where she was going. They knew she had to do this.

Genevieve's feet carried her next door, to Nicholas' house, and she felt her anger simmering beneath the surface, boiling up inside her until it was all she could feel. Every step felt like a heartbeat, pulsing with rage and grief. She scanned the yard, her eyes wild, until she found what she was looking for—an old, long piece of wood, half-hidden in the bushes.

Without hesitation, she grabbed it, her fingers gripping it tightly as she stormed toward his door.

Her family stood in the driveway, watching her, their faces etched with fear and sadness, but still, no one stopped her.

With a furious cry, Genevieve swung the wood against Nicholas' door, the sound of the impact echoing down the empty street. Once, twice, three times—until the door finally gave way with a sharp crack, splintering open. She tossed the wood aside and stepped inside, her body trembling with adrenaline, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

The house was dark, quiet. Nicholas was standing in the living room, staring at her with a mixture of surprise and amusement, his expression cold, detached. He raised an eyebrow as she stood there, her chest heaving, her eyes wild with fury.

"Jesus fucking Christ, you broke my fucking door," Nicholas said, his voice dripping with mockery. "You psycho."

Genevieve felt the words hit her like a slap, but they only fueled the fire inside her. She stormed toward him, her fists clenched at her sides.

"YOU RUINED MY LIFE!" she screamed, her voice cracking with the weight of her rage and grief. She shoved him, hard, her hands pushing against his chest. Nicholas stumbled back, his expression darkening slightly, but he didn't stop her.

Genevieve shoved him again, her hands shaking as she hit him with every ounce of anger she had left. "You killed Isabella! You destroyed everything! Why? Why would you do this to me?"

Nicholas caught her hands this time, his grip firm but not aggressive. "I did what I had to do, Genevieve," he said, his voice steady, but there was a hint of something softer there. "I had to protect myself. I had to protect you. I did what I had to do for all of us."

Genevieve ripped her hands free, her body shaking with the force of her emotions. "Protect me? You killed my best friend! You killed her to save yourself. And you lied to me. You told me you wouldn't hurt anyone else!"

Nicholas opened his mouth to respond, but no words came. He looked at her, really looked at her, and for the first time in his life, he felt something crack inside him. Something that hadn't broken, even through all the things he had done, all the lives he had taken. But seeing the pain in Genevieve's eyes, seeing the betrayal, the anger, the grief—it was like a punch to the gut.

He had hurt her. He had hurt the only person who had ever truly seen him. And now he had lost her.

Genevieve's voice broke again, tears spilling down her cheeks as she looked at him, unable to recognize the boy standing in front of her. "I let you tell me about what you were doing. I listened to you. I believed you when you said you'd try to be better. I told you I would be there for you, and this is what you did to me? You killed her. Why? Why would you do this?"

Nicholas stared at her, his throat tight, his mind reeling. For the first time in a long time, he felt guilt—real, crushing guilt. He had always justified his actions, telling himself it was survival, that it was necessary. But seeing the devastation in Genevieve's eyes, hearing the hurt in her voice, made something inside him snap.

"I'm... I'm sorry, Gen," Nicholas whispered, his voice faltering. "I didn't want to hurt you. But I didn't trust her. She was going to turn me in. I had to do it."

Genevieve's tears flowed freely now, her chest heaving with sobs. "I can't even recognize you anymore, Nicholas. You're not the person I thought you were. You're a monster."

Nicholas felt her words hit him like a physical blow, but he couldn't argue. He had become something else, something darker, and now it was too late to change that. Too late to take it back.

Genevieve turned away from him, her hands shaking as she wiped at her tears. She walked toward the door, her heart breaking with every step.

"You should've thought smarter, not harder," she said quietly, her voice cold, the last of her emotion draining away. Nicholas frowned, confused, but he knew—he knew—it wasn't good. It couldn't be good.

Genevieve didn't wait for him to respond. She walked out the door, her feet carrying her toward her car. Her family stood outside, watching her with tears in their eyes, but none of them said anything. They knew now what had to be done.

Without looking back, Genevieve got into her car, her hands trembling as she gripped the steering wheel. Her heart pounded in her chest, her vision blurred with tears, but she knew there was no turning back now. She had to end this. She had to do what she should have done from the start.

As she drove away from the house, she didn't glance back at Nicholas. She didn't need to see him again. This was it. It was over.

The drive to the police station felt like a blur, her mind numb, her body on autopilot. The weight of everything pressed down on her, but for the first time in days, she felt a strange sense of clarity. She knew what she had to do.

When she finally pulled into the parking lot of the police station, her hands were shaking, her breath coming in short, uneven gasps. She sat there for a moment, staring at the building in front of her, her mind racing with everything that had led her here.

And then, with a deep, shuddering breath, she stepped out of the car, ready to face the consequences of what had been done.

Ready to tell the truth.