Page 11 of Two Sides of Sin

I wrapped my dressing gown around me, tying the belt so tight it hurt, and padded downstairs. The flickering glow of the TV filled the living room. Nana was perched in her usual spot, half paying attention to some loud infomercial.

“Hey, Nana,” I said, my voice barely reaching her.

“Hey, baby,” she glanced back with a small, sad smile. “Your dinner’s in the oven. And make sure you thank Julian for doing the lawn today. Those are good boys, June. Especially that Julian. That’s the type of man you need to marry.”

A bitter knot tightened in my throat. “Marriage is the furthest thing from my mind right now, Nana.”

I retreated to the kitchen. The smell of the food made my stomach twist—a hollow growl reminding me I hadn’t eaten since… I couldn’t even remember. I pulled the plate out of the oven and sat at the table. I picked up the fork, moving the peas around, staring at the steam rising from the meat.

I forced a bite into my mouth. Nana was a beautiful cook, but the food felt like glass sliding down my throat. It was dry, tasteless, and hard to swallow. I had to force myself to gulp down water just to get it to stay down.

That’s when I saw them.

Pushed to the edge of the table were my University applications. I’d left them there months ago, half finished, and filled with dreams that belonged to a different lifetime. I picked them up, the paper feeling heavy in my hands. Annie had been so excited. She was going to join me the following year. We had the dorm rooms picked out, we had a map of the campus with our favourite spots already circled. We had a plan for everything.

I looked at the blank lines where my future was supposed to be planned out. It all felt so pointless. I put the papers back down, the ink blurring in front of my eyes. How was I supposed to go anywhere when she had to stay here?

Days bled into each other after that. Time didn’t move in a straight line, it just looped around the same echoing ache. And every time I stepped into the kitchen, those unfinished application papers were there. They started to haunt me. It sounds crazy, but I felt like they were physically looking at me, tracking my movement across the linoleum like a pair of judgmental eyes. Annie’s eyes.

We were supposed to go together. I’m failing us both.

Eventually, I couldn’t take the silent interrogation or the guilt anymore. I grabbed the stack and shoved them into the junk drawer, burying them under old menus and tangled twine. But it didn’t help. Even behind the wood of the drawer, their presence wasn’t any less heavy. I could feel them vibrating through the floorboards—a constant reminder of the life we had planned and the one I was currently wasting.

Annie would be so disappointed, I thought, the realisation hitting me like a punch in the stomach.

If I stayed here, rotting in this grief, I wasn’t just losing my future, I was erasing hers, too. It was going to be the hardest thing I’d ever done, going there, walking those halls, seeing the dorm rooms we’d picked out… knowing she wouldn’t be joining me at the end of the year. But I realised then that I had to do it. I had to carry her name into those lecture halls. I had to do it for the both of us now.

With tears blurring my vision and a strange, terrifying spark of hope finally springing in my chest, I walked to the drawer. My hands shook as I retrieved the forms out. I didn’t look at Nana as I turned and headed back up to my room, clutching the papers to my chest.

I sat at my desk, smoothed out the wrinkled edges, and picked up a pen. We had started these together. It was time for me to finish them.

Chapter 9

Cain

Julian was moving with a frantic, jittery energy that usually follows one of his grander delusions. He was currently struggling with a tangled string of colourful balloons, his face set in a mask of determined cheer that looked more like a grimace. He wanted this to work. He wanted to fix her with streamers, sugar, and a chorus of “Happy Birthday,” but I knew better.

I stood by the window, my arms crossed tightly over my chest, watching the domestic chaos unfold. Nineteen years old. The air in this house felt heavy, thick with the things we weren’t allowed to say.

“Cain, for the love of God, grab the other end of this banner,” Julian whined, his voice a pitch too high, straining under the weight of his own forced enthusiasm.

“Is the glitter really necessary, Julian?” I asked, not moving from my post. “She’s grieving, not entering a fucking pageant.”

“Try celebrating something other than yourself for once, Cain. I promise you won’t spontaneously combust.,” he countered, pointing a finger at me. “Just… try to be a decent human being for three hours. Please.”

I looked away, staring out at the driveway. Since the accident, June hadn’t been the same. She was our little rain cloud now, hovering silently in the corners of the house, her eyes perpetually fixed on something a few inches behind reality. I’ve always been the practical one, the one who doesn’t let emotions cloud my judgment, but looking at the empty space she used to occupy even when she was in the room, I felt a familiar, bitter pang of guilt.

It wasn’t for her cousin. Annie’s death was a tragedy of the human condition, a fault of physics and timing that had nothing to do with us. My guilt was for the future. The life we were supposedly preparing her for, felt more like a cage than a celebration.

June’s Grandmother paused near the coffee table, wiping her hands on her floral apron. She looked at us with a soft, weary smile. “She’ll love it, boys. She needs to know she’s still surrounded by family.”

I nodded out of politeness, but my jaw tightened until it ached. She spoke of family as a comfort, a safety net. She didn’t understand that for people like us, family was a complicated, dark bond that you couldn’t just walk away from. She saw a birthday party, I saw a girl being pushed closer to a reality she wasn’t ready to face.

I often found myself staring at the walls of this house, wondering how much longer we could keep up the act. Julian played the part of the protector who wanted to save her, while I was the one who couldn’t stop watching her, tracking her every movement like a predator waiting for the right moment to strike.

“Cain? Are you even listening?” Julian’s voice broke through my thoughts. He was holding a tray of refreshments, his eyes searching mine for some sign of solidarity.

“I’m listening,” I said, my voice flat.