Sins of the innocent

Genesis had always been delicate, fragile like fine china. Her presence was soft, her voice a whisper against the chaos of the world. She cried easily-over spilled coffee, over a sentimental song on the radio, over a stranger's kindness. She wore her emotions like a silk dress, and the world had a way of staining it.
Green Valley High was ruthless to girls like her-too sweet, too naive, too untouched by the sharp edges of reality. People mistook her kindness for weakness, and maybe they weren't wrong. Genesis had spent her whole life surrendering pieces of herself to people who never deserved them.

But then she met Sin.

Sin was everything she wasn't.

Cold. Calculated. Dangerous.

He was the boy people whispered about in the hallways-the one who never stayed in class long enough to be counted for attendance, who always smelled of cigarettes and something darker. Tattoos curled along his arms and snaked up his neck like vines, marking him as someone who had already lived a life far beyond these school walls. He didn't belong in places like Green Valley High. He belonged to the night, to the shadows that stretched long after the streetlights flickered on.

Genesis saw him first outside the school parking lot, leaning against his motorcycle, a cigarette perched lazily between his lips. His eyes-stormy gray, unreadable-flicked to her briefly before returning to the smoke curling in the air.

She shouldn't have stared. She shouldn't have let curiosity drag her closer.
But Genesis had always been drawn to beautiful, broken things.