Chapter 21: ● T W E N T Y | Blood ●

† Q U I N N †

Family is blood—one of nature's masterpieces, a beautiful tapestry made from the line of our ancestors. Yet, there's a saying that goes, "Family isn't always blood." It's about the people in your life who truly want you there, the ones who accept you for who you are. They are the ones willing to do anything just to see you smile, who love you no matter what.

When I think of blood though, I see it as nothing more than a substance—a thick, red liquid that flows through everyone's veins. It's the same substance that makes my heart race, the one I crave to see trickling from someone's delicate skin. The one that fills my deepest, darkest desires.

I was slowly strolling through the mall, making my way to the cinema. Elise and I had decided to rewatch Interstellar, which was playing in HD as part of the mall's monthly retro movie night. We both loved that film—the mind-bending story and the plot twist at the end always captivated me. It was so interesting that I could watch it over and over without getting bored. I was excited to catch it again.

As I approached the cinema, I spotted Elise standing there, talking to someone who had been intrigued me for a while now—Chloe. It looked like she had done a bit of shopping, her arms weighed down by a couple of paper bags. But as I got closer, I noticed another woman appear behind Chloe—someone I hadn't expected to see. It was someone who knew me a little too well. She smiled as she chatted with my roommate, and oddly enough, Elise seemed excited to be speaking with her.

I hesitated, unsure whether to step forward, my curiosity piqued. What was she doing here, and how did she know Elise and Chloe?

"Quinn!" Elise called out, breaking me from my thoughts. My eyes were still fixed on the woman beside my roommate, full of questions and surprise, and but I could see calmness reflected in her expression.

"Quinn, by the way, this is–" Chloe began, but I interrupted her.

"Jade? What are you doing here?" I asked, my voice firm as I searched for answers in her eyes.

"Hello, Quinn. It's good to see you out having fun," Jade replied, her smile unsettling.

"Mom?" Chloe suddenly exclaimed, her eyes widening in shock. My own eyes went wide at the revelation. "Why does Quinn call you Jade? Is she–?"

"She's a patient of mine, dear," Jade answered coolly. Chloe's eyes darted between us, a mix of shock and confusion painted on her face.

"Of course! That makes sense," I said, my gaze locked on Chloe—disappointment and anger swirled in my eyes.

"Quinn, I..." she stammered, struggling to form complete thoughts.

My jaw clenched, fists balled at my sides. Of course they were related by blood. Had Chloe been playing with me all along? Did she know I was her mother's patient and used that knowledge to mess with my mind?

Without thinking, I stepped back, turned around, and walked away as fast as I could. I heard Elise call my name, but I didn't look back.

The cold water from the shower helped cool my temper, to wash away my anger, but only a little. For a moment, I stood there, letting the chill numb my thoughts. All this time, I had been talking to Jade about Chloe, about how she intrigued me—but never once had I mentioned the things that had already happened between us. I hadn't told her how I had marked her daughter's skin, how I had slit it with the edge of my desires.

"Fuck!" I hissed under my breath, frustration bubbling up inside me.

As I tried to calm down, the bathroom door suddenly swung open, startling me. My eyes snapped to the entrance, and there stood Chloe, wide-eyed, frozen in place.

"What the hell are you doing here?!" I shouted, my voice louder, harsher than I intended. But she didn't say anything. She stood frozen, eyes wide, but they weren't looking at mine. That's when I noticed where her gaze had landed—on my thighs. My heart pounded in my chest because I knew exactly what had caught her attention. I was wearing underwear, but that wasn't enough to cover the scars. The ones I had mostly inflicted on myself in desperate attempts to quiet my twisted desires—a reminder of my sick need for control, for release.

Fear flickered in her eyes as she stared, unable to look away from the marks that betrayed my secrets.

"Get the hell out of here, Chloe!" I yelled again, louder this time as anger and panic mixing in my voice, and it snapped her out of her daze. She bolted out of the room without another word.

I rushed to the bathroom door and slammed it shut with force, the sound echoing in the small space. My back pressed against the door, and I let out a shaky breath.

"Damn it," I muttered under my breath, my hands trembling. In that split second, my hidden reality had been exposed, and there was no taking it back. My secret, the darkness I'd kept hidden, was laid bare before her eyes. Shame, anger, and fear churned inside me, making it hard to think straight. I closed my eyes, trying to slow my rapid breaths, but the emotions kept swirling, refusing to be quieted.

† C H L O E †

Blood is life—it courses through us, sustains us. But for some, it's also a symbol of fear, an unsettling reminder of vulnerability. It tells stories of survival, of injury, and of mortality, but not everyone is ready to confront those tales. For some, blood is nothing more than a fluid; for others, it's a trigger, a reflection of their deepest anxieties. To some, it symbolizes strength and resilience; to others, it's a source of panic.

I never feared blood. If I had, I wouldn't have chosen to study medicine and become a doctor. The idea of being wounded by accident or injury concerns me, but not in the way that makes me run from it. Instead, I chose to embrace it. I wanted to help heal those wounds, to ease the pain of others. The sight of blood reminds me not just of what hurts but of what can be healed.

Fear and panic swirled in my head like a storm as I drove home, trying to piece everything together. I still couldn't believe Quinn was my mom's patient. Does she tell her about her twisted habits with women? Does she exchange stories for some kind of therapy, some kind of release? Worse—has she ever mentioned me? The thought of my name coming up in one of their sessions sent a shiver down my spine. And why did Quinn look so mad when she stormed out of the mall? I had to confront her. I needed answers, but I was more terrified about what she might've told my mom. Had she shared details about what happened between us?

I rushed to her room, only to find it empty. Elise wasn't back yet either. The room felt eerily still, but then I heard the sound of water gushing from the bathroom. Without thinking, I opened the door and stepped in. There she was, standing under the shower, wearing nothing but her underwear.

I froze.

At first, it was just shock at seeing her like this. But then my eyes caught sight of something else—her thighs. Scars. Dozens of them. Some faded, others fresh, still raw, with the unmistakable glisten of blood from recent cuts. It was as if the room itself had dropped ten degrees, a wave of cold washing over me. Chills ran down my spine as I stared, unable to process what I was seeing.

She was shouting at me, but I couldn't hear her. My mind was buzzing, thoughts racing too fast to make sense of. Were those scars made by her? Or were they inflicted by her hook ups? And if from those women, why hadn't she said anything? Why hadn't I heard any rumors? Or... was she doing this to herself?

The questions pounded in my head, one after another. Who was hurting her? Or worse... why was she hurting herself? Fear, confusion, and panic surged inside me as I stood there, rooted in place, staring at those scars, unable to comprehend the full weight of what was right in front of me.

"Get the hell out of here, Chloe!" Quinn's voice echoed, snapping me back to reality. I stood frozen for a moment, her anger hanging in the air. Without another word, I turned on my heels and rushed out of the dorm, my heart pounding in my chest.

By the time I reached home, my hands were trembling. I knocked lightly, and my mom opened the door, concern etched on her face.

"Chloe? What brings you here this late? Is everything alright?" she asked, her eyes searching mine for answers.

Without answering, I walked past her and into the living room. My mind raced with questions. I had to know the truth. "Quinn, Mom. How long has she been your patient?"

She paused, walking closer to me before answering, "Almost four years now." Her calm tone hit me like a brick. Four years. She's been treating Quinn for that long.

"So... you know about her... her twisted habits?" I asked hesitantly, fear lacing my words.

My mom sighed gently. "You know I can't discuss details, Chloe. Doctor-patient confidentiality." Her voice was soft but firm.

"Mom, please," I begged, tears stinging my eyes. "Do you know who's been hurting her?"

She looked at me with a mixture of sympathy and sadness. "Quinn's been through a lot, Chloe. Her actions, her habits—they stem from trauma, things she hasn't fully shared even with me. She makes bad choices, does things that aren't healthy, but people cope with their pain in different ways, ways that make sense only in their minds. She uses certain methods to manage her anxiety, though they're harmful. There's darkness in her, but she's fighting it, in her own way. She's not a bad person. There's more to her than the scars."

I exhaled deeply, my chest tight. If Quinn was harming herself, she must be fighting battles far deeper than I ever imagined.

"Is she getting better?" I asked, my voice breaking as tears rolled down my cheeks.

Mom gently wiped my tears away. "It's hard to say. Healing takes time, and in Quinn's case, it's a slow process. But I have high hopes for her, Chloe. She's strong, even if she doesn't always know it yet."

Her words brought me some comfort, but I still felt lost. "I've only known her for a short time," I admitted, my voice wavering. "But there's something about her... She intrigued me from the moment we met."

Mom hummed softly in response, a knowing sound. Then, without warning, her hand brushed against the skin of my neck—right where Quinn had left her most recent mark. I froze. The room suddenly felt colder, and my heart raced in panic. She knew.

"Mom–" I started, but I couldn't get the words out. The look in her eyes told me she already knew everything. I broke down, tears falling again.

"You're old enough to know right from wrong, Chloe," she said gently. "All I ask is that you be careful."

Then she pulled me into a hug, her warmth calming the storm inside me. But the weight of Quinn's pain—and my role in it—still pressed heavily on my heart.

10 PM—I found myself parked outside the campus dormitory, my thoughts racing with everything that had just been revealed. I couldn't stop thinking about Quinn. She had to be in a lot of pain. The fact that she was seeing a psychiatrist meant she was trying to fight whatever was driving her to those twisted habits. I knew I couldn't just go back to my apartment and sleep, not with all of this on my mind. I had to face her, to gather the courage and talk to her.

I found myself standing at their door, my hand raised to knock, this time more cautiously. I didn't want to storm in and make things worse like before.

The door opened, and Elise stood there. "Chloe?" she said, looking surprised.

"Hey, Elise. Is Quinn here?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

She nodded, her concern clear. "Yeah, but she's been in her room all night. She didn't even touch the takeout I brought her."

"I need to talk to her," I said. Elise hesitated for a moment, then opened the door wider to let me in.

"Is everything okay?" Elise asked, her worry growing.

I nodded, offering a small smile. "Everything's going to be fine, Elise." I tried to reassure her, though I wasn't sure I believed it myself.

As I approached Quinn's door, I paused for a moment, listening. I could hear music softly playing from inside. Slowly, I reached for the door handle and opened it. The room was dim, lit only by the soft glow of a bedside lamp. There she was, sitting at the edge of her bed, staring down at the floor. The sound of the door closing behind me caught her attention, and her eyes widened in shock when she saw me.

"What the hell are you doing here at this time, Chloe?" she asked coldly, her voice sharp. She stood up, her face hardening with anger. "Are you here to mess with my head again?"

"I want to talk, Quinn," I said softly, trying to stay calm as I moved closer.

"Talk? Fine! How long have you known I was your mom's patient? How long have you been playing these mind games, huh? Are you enjoying this?" Her eyes burned with fury as she stared me down, waiting for an answer.

"Just today, Quinn. I only found out about it today," I said, looking her straight in the eye.

"That's bullshit, Chloe," she hissed, anger flashing across her face.

I cupped her face with both my hands, forcing her to take a deep breath. "That's the truth, Quinn. And you know what your problem is? You keep building these walls so that no one can get through. Not even the people who genuinely want to help you and talk to you."

"Help me? You mean like I'm some crazy psycho?" She tilted her head to the side, but I gently forced it back to face me.

"No, I'm talking about people who want to know the real you. The one you're hiding behind all those walls you've built." I paused, letting my words sink in as she fell silent. "Why won't you just let other people in, Quinn?"

"To what end, Chloe?!" Her voice was rising now. "So people can just mock me? Use it to hurt me even more?!"

"Is that how you felt when you shared these things with my mom?" I asked, trying to stay calm.

"She's a psychiatrist, Chloe! It's her job to listen to the problems of twisted people!" Her tone was getting sharper.

"And what about Elise? Did you ever think she would judge you or use your pain against you? And do you think I'd do the same?" Her eyes widened, and she fell quiet. "I'm not saying you should let everyone in. But you know there are people you can trust, people you can open up to about at least some things. And just so you know, I'm here for you too," I said softly, my tone dropping as I watched her take another deep breath.

She stayed silent, her gaze locked onto mine as I gently brushed my thumb against her cheek. I could see her jaw tightening, a sign of the tension still gripping her. "Quinn..." I whispered, hoping to reach her through the walls she had built. "I'm here too, okay? Just remember that."

Gradually, her eyes began to soften, and I noticed her body relaxing from its earlier rigidity. "I'm not scared of you or your twisted habits," I added, pulling her face closer until her forehead rested against mine. She closed her eyes, and I could feel the warmth radiating between us. "I'm here; keep that in mind."

The room was filled with the music playing from Quinn's phone, but it felt much quieter now, more peaceful. I didn't know why, but I felt an overwhelming urge to do this—to make her feel like she wasn't alone. Over the past few months, I had seen a different side of Quinn: the protector, the one who cared for animals, the one who could genuinely laugh and smile. She was also someone who could kiss passionately, and I realized she wasn't just the person with twisted desires to inflict pain on others.

Those desires were merely a coping mechanism, a way to deal with the pain she carried inside. But beneath it all, I sensed there was another side of her—the real Quinn—who was more caring, passionate, and capable of true happiness. She didn't want to feel pain; she wanted to be free from it.