Chapter 6: ● F I V E | Band-Aid ●

† C H L O E  †

The best kind of solution, for me, is the simple one. Like using a Band-Aid—it's all about solving a problem with the least amount of effort, time, and cost. No need for surgeries or stitches, no major operations. You just stick it on, and then, when the time comes, you pull it off. Sure, it stings for a moment, but then it's over, and there's a sense of relief.

That's pretty much how I deal with life. Whatever the problem is, I face it, but I don't let myself get buried under its weight. I patch it up like a Band-Aid, knowing that, with time, things will heal. Eventually, things get better.

"I really don't know how you do it, Chlo. You make everything look so easy," Scarlet sighed, fingers flying over her keyboard as she worked on her term paper—due in just 30 minutes. "We were all out partying the other night, none of us got any work done, but you still managed to finish yours. What am I even doing with my life?" She shot me a panicked look, her eyes wide with worry.

I patted her back, trying to offer a little support. "Hey, take it easy, Scar. Sometimes, you just have to manage your time a bit better. Focus on finishing things first, and then you can relax after. You always let yourself get distracted, and that's your biggest challenge." I chuckled, hoping to lighten the mood. She just kept typing away, determined to finish in time.

"Hey, Chloe! Scarlet!" Jessica and Penelope appeared behind us and slid into the seats, all smiles.

"Not now, I'm almost done! Almost done!" Scarlet mumbled, eyes glued to her laptop screen, her fingers flying across the keyboard.

Penelope took a sip from her slurpee, then said, "I don't know if you've noticed, but I've seen a few girls around campus wearing band-aids on their necks. It's kind of strange, don't you think?"

Jessica nodded, glancing across the courtyard. "Yeah, like those girls over there." She pointed to a group sitting nearby. Two of them—a blonde and a brunette—had matching band-aids on their necks.

"Maybe they're just trying to start a new trend?" I joked, a soft laugh escaping me.

"Or maybe the Cullens are secretly among us." Jessica chuckled, clearly amused by her own reference to vampires.

Penelope twirled her straw thoughtfully. "But the thing is, those girls are from totally different departments. Some of them even have rivalries with each other. I've actually noticed this for a couple of years now. It's kind of weird, don't you think?"

Scarlet suddenly paused from her typing, glancing around to make sure no one else was listening, then leaned in with a mischievous smile. "They're not trying out some new trend, and it's definitely not about the Cullens. It's actually about this hot student they're hooking up with." Her voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper as she continued, "I heard that these girls all had flings with one student. But before things get... intimate, she makes them agree to let her make a little cut on their necks."

Penelope's eyebrows shot up in horror. "What?! That's absolutely messed up! Why on earth would anyone agree to that?"

Jessica chimed in, her tone a mix of shock and curiosity. "Maybe she's just that hot, and they can't resist. You know how people can be. Still, it's pretty messed up."

"Oh, she's definitely hot! That Quinn Grey from Computer Science? She's a total knockout." Scarlet said, shaking her head knowingly. "And Chloe—remember that party? She thought you were a waiter. So technically, you've met her."

My eyes widened at the revelation. If Scarlet's story was true, Quinn was not just a heartbreaker; she was walking a line between allure and something disturbingly dark.

I watched the water cascade over my hands in the bathroom sink, the earlier conversation with my friends replaying in my head. Suddenly, the door creaked open, and to my surprise, Quinn walked in. Of course, it had to be her of all people. I quickly turned my gaze back to the sink, hoping to keep my composure.

"Looks like the bathroom is becoming our little meeting spot, huh?" she chuckled, striding closer but continuing past me to lean against the far wall, arms crossed, her eyes fixed on me as I washed my hands.

"Just another coincidence, I guess," I replied, my voice low, a hint of unease creeping in. She simply hummed in response, and my mind was still preoccupied with the unsettling rumors about her—about the girls she'd been with, about the cuts on their necks.

Driven by a mix of curiosity and an unexpected surge of boldness, I turned and faced her. "I've heard rumors about you. Something about torturing women's necks in exchange for sex?" My words came out bluntly, and for a moment, I almost regretted it.

Her grin widened, a dark gleam flashing in her eyes as she studied me. There was something intense—almost predatory—in the way she looked, her whole demeanor shifting to something a little more dangerous.

"Oh! That? Are you interested in making a deal too?" She pushed herself off the wall and slowly advancing toward me. My eyes widened in shock at her confirmation of the rumor.

"So, it's true then?" I stammered, struggling to keep my voice steady. "You torture those women, making cuts on their necks for a petty one-night stand?" The tremor in my voice grew louder.

"I wouldn't say torture, gorgeous," she replied, her grin widening, a playful yet sinister glint in her eyes. "They give me what I want, and I give them what they ask for. They're not forced at all." In one swift movement, she leaned in closer, both hands resting on the sink, effectively trapping me between her body and the cool porcelain.

"That's some kind of sick thing to do, Quinn." My heart raced, pounding against my ribcage as I realized how close we were—our faces mere inches apart, and I could feel the warmth radiating from her breath.

"Call it whatever you want," she murmured, her gaze locked onto mine. "They still get the pleasure they're itching to release." Her fingers danced along the hem of my dress, brushing against my thigh, and she leaned even closer, her face hovering near my neck as she inhaled deeply. "Mmm, is that Baccarat Rouge I smell on you?" Her voice dripped with a seductive chill that sent shivers down my spine.

In a burst of unexpected courage, I pushed her away, finally breaking free from her magnetic hold. She laughed softly, a haunting sound that sent an uneasy flutter through me. "You could've just asked directly if you needed some good old-fashioned fucking, gorgeous. I can make a deal with you, alright?"

This side of her was completely different from the Quinn I had met at the party and casually talked to the cafeteria, the one who had seemed so friendly. Was she playing a role back then just to get closer to me? What was her game? Which version of Quinn was the real one?

"So that's why you were fascinated with my neck too, huh? Well, over my dead body, Quinn. I will never be part of your twisted pleasures." My frustration bubbled to the surface, fueling my need to escape the bathroom. I hurried toward the door, desperate to leave.

"I don't do dead bodies, Chloe," she called after me, her voice laced with mockery. "But if you change your mind, let me know. Besides, it looks like fate keeps bringing us together, doesn't it?" Her eyebrow arched playfully, and her lips curled into a smirk, her expression dark and taunting as I stepped into the hallway.

† Q U I N N †

When I was a kid, I was always clumsy. I stumbled a lot, leaving scratches and wounds all over my body. I used to cover them with Band-Aids. But my mom would take them off, clean the wounds, and say, "Things that are covered don't heal well." She was right. Things that are hidden don't heal properly.

"How are things going so far, Quinn?" Jade, my psychiatrist, suddenly pulled me back to reality. I had been staring blankly at the wall for a while while sitting in her office.

"It's okay," I replied briefly. Her eyes were fixed on me, waiting for more.

"Are you still having trouble sleeping?" she asked.

"Not lately," I said. I'd been hooking up with women at night to wear myself out so I could sleep.

"How about that nightmare? Do you still have it?" Her expression remained serious.

"Sometimes," I answered, my responses still short. I heard Jade let out a small sigh.

"Well, you need to work with me here, Quinn. Can you tell me something new instead of just giving short answers? You have to be open and share so we can ease what's bothering you." Jade smiled at me. She's a good doctor, very patient. She didn't want her patients to call her "doctor"; she preferred we call her Jade, like a friend. But even after years of seeing her, I didn't feel comfortable sharing everything. It took me a while to admit my sleepless nights, twisted pleasures, and nightmares, but I still kept my walls up. After all, she's still a stranger. It was her job to listen to her patients' darkest thoughts and problems, but I wouldn't call her a friend yet.

"So, nothing new? No new hobbies? Haven't met anyone new? Haven't gone to any new places?" Jade continued, noticing my silence.

"Well, I did meet a new student at the university. She's not exactly new; she's been there for a while, but I guess our paths just crossed recently," I said, thinking of Chloe. Jade's face lit up with interest.

"Good! And how is she? Is she different from the girls you've met before?" I shrugged and hummed in response. Jade stayed quiet, clearly wanting me to share more. I sighed, feeling a little defeated.

"I really don't know, Jade. But she intrigues me. I can't quite put my finger on it," I admitted. Jade nodded, encouraging me to elaborate.

"Aren't you curious to find out what's so intriguing about her?" Her calm eyes were comforting to look at.

"I would be, but I think she'll want to keep her distance now that she's heard the rumor about my twisted kink," I said, chuckling softly.

"Why not show her the other side of Quinn?" Jade suggested with a smile.

"The weak, vulnerable Quinn? I guess I tried, but right now, she probably thinks I'm some perverted sicko. It's easier to let people see what they expect from me, Jade. Being mean keeps them from mocking me—hurting me," I replied, looking down.

"Masking yourself as someone else is like putting a Band-Aid on something that really needs stitches, Quinn. You can't patch up a wounded soul with a little sticky plaster. Letting people see your scars, imperfections, and vulnerabilities gradually will help them understand you better. If people can't accept who you are after that, it's best to move on. Don't force yourself to fit in with them; it's not worth the time and effort. But those who stay and accept you, even after you reveal your flaws, are the ones who truly matter. Sometimes it feels like you always have to be the strong, mean one, or everything will just fall apart. This act helps you hide your weaknesses, but in the end, it's just a Band-Aid. You'll realize that pretending to be strong will only hurt you in the end. Telling the truth can feel like ripping off an old Band-Aid. It stings at first, but the fresh air helps heal the wound faster in the end."

I let out a deep, long sigh at Jade's words. Still, I don't want people to see how truly weak and vulnerable I really am. Being weak means getting hurt easily, and that goes beyond just physical pain; it encompasses emotional pain too. I've been carrying so much pain for a long time, even after everything that happened long ago. I refuse to experience or witness that same kind of pain again. Not ever.