Chapter 13: ● T W E L V E | Torture ●

† Q U I N N †

The past was not meant to be used as a device for torment. Bad memories are hard enough, but it was also a torture to be haunted for good. Physical wounds heal, but the scars left by emotional hurt often cut deeper, lingering long after the moment has passed, leaving behind a lasting mark.

"Ah wabd wu." *Slash.*

She whispered broken words through her tears, barely able to speak.

*Slash.* "Ah wabyu," she mumbled again.

The slashes kept coming, each one stinging sharply against my skin, but I didn't seem to feel the pain anymore. I kept my gaze locked on her, taking in the sadness in her eyes as she continued.

*Slash.* "I love you," she finally whispered, her green eyes meeting mine through the tears.

A strange, soft smile tugged at my lips. It felt like a bittersweet memory, one I wished would linger a little longer.

I jolted awake, drenched in sweat, heart pounding. The same dream had come back, haunting me once more.

I grabbed a glass of water from the kitchen, letting the cool liquid soothe my dry throat. It was only 6 PM—I hadn't even realized I'd fallen asleep after class. The apartment was dim, the living room draped in darkness. It seemed like Elise wasn't home yet.

Suddenly, I heard the main door open, followed by heavy footsteps echoing through the hall. I looked up just as she entered, her blonde hair tousled and those familiar green eyes locked onto mine, filled with a stormy intensity.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, setting the glass down on the counter. I watched as she closed the distance between us, each step deliberate. She stopped just in front of me, close enough that I could feel the tension radiating off her. She pushed her hair back, tilting her head and exposing the curve of her neck.

"Go ahead. Make the cut," she said, voice steady but eyes ablaze with something I couldn't quite read.

I raised an eyebrow, both confused and intrigued. "Are you finally giving in, gorgeous?" I asked with a teasing edge, trying to lighten the tension, but her expression didn't soften. Her eyes remained locked on mine, daring me to respond.

"No, Quinn. You're so fascinated with my neck, aren't you? Desperate for a piece of me," she shot back, her voice rising, full of frustration I hadn't expected. She tilted her head even further, almost challenging me. "Well, here it is. Go on, do it!"

I felt the surge of anger match her energy, and my hand moved to her neck, gripping just enough to make her meet my gaze head-on. "You really think I won't, Chloe? You just gave me your consent," I said, eyes narrowing, trying to see if she'd flinch. But she held her ground, unmoved. "Is that what this is all about? Giving in to my twisted need?"

She didn't break eye contact, her stare just as fierce. "Just get it over with, so I can leave," she demanded, her tone cold and commanding.

My gaze locked onto her neck—soft, pale, and inviting. The more I stared, the stronger the pull, the urge building with each second. I tilted her head slightly to the side, enough to expose her neck but still keep her face within view. Reaching into my jogger pocket, I took out the small metal case and flipped it open, extracting a tiny paper stored within.

Her jaw clenched as I brought the paper close to her skin. My grip on her neck and chin tightened, and with a steady hand, I brushed the paper against her neck, dragging it down slowly. I heard her exhale sharply as I made the cut. A thin red line appeared, the blood just beginning to seep through.

Watching it unfold, I let out a quiet groan of satisfaction, unable to tear my eyes away from the line of red marking her skin.

I flipped the paper's edge and brought it back to her skin, preparing to make another cut. As I pressed it down, I felt her jaw trembling under my grip. Then, unexpectedly, a tear rolled down her cheek. I stopped, releasing her neck. She turned to face me, her eyes a storm of hurt, sadness, anger, and fear.

"She's paid up now. So don't you dare hurt Elise or lay a finger on her neck, Quinn." Her words hit me, sending a wave of confusion through my mind. Why would I hurt Elise?

"You don't get to tell me what to do, Chloe," I snapped back, my tone icy. Her expression darkened.

"You've hurt her enough, Quinn! You've already done too much!" she shouted, and I could hear the desperation in her voice. But I still didn't understand. What had I done?

I grabbed my phone from my pocket and dialed Elise's number. She picked up after a few rings. "Quinn?" she said, her voice trembling.

"Where are you, El?" I asked softly, trying to keep my voice steady.

Chloe's voice cut in from behind me, shouting, "Don't you fucking dare tell her where you are, Elise!"

"Quinn, I–I'm..." Elise's voice was shaky, filled with nervousness.

"Where... the... hell... are you?" My tone hardened, my patience slipping away.

"St. Paul's General Hospital," she replied, and my stomach dropped. Shock washed over me as I moved quickly to the bedroom, grabbing my jacket and heading for the door. I had to get to her.

Chloe grabbed my arm, her grip like iron. "I'm not letting you near her, Quinn."

I yanked my arm free, pushing past her, and stormed out of the room. I heard her call my name, but my mind was spinning. Elise was hurt, and I needed to find out why.

† C H L O E †

A truly healthy person doesn't hurt others. In fact, it's often those who have suffered themselves who end up inflicting pain on others. Ironically, to torture someone requires a certain level of empathy; you can't intentionally cause someone pain without understanding what pain feels like. This pain isn't just physical; it can also be emotional and mental, and sometimes that can be even more harmful.

Some people who struggle with these habits try to find positive ways to heal. Healing doesn't mean that the hurt has vanished—it means that the hurt no longer controls their lives. But not everyone is ready to seek healing or change. Some remain trapped in their pain, unwilling to let it go.

I don't tolerate violence at all. I like things to be calm, with less pressure and no worries. So, I was really surprised to find out that Quinn's roommate was Elise. She's so sweet, charming, and innocent. I can't imagine how she puts up with Quinn's twisted habits. Maybe it's because she studies psychology and understands people on a deeper level.

When their team came to our department asking for help interviewing Pre-Med students for their research paper, I didn't think twice about volunteering. Elise is a smart woman, and her insights into human behavior never cease to amaze me.

I was walking back to my car after my last class of the day when I noticed someone sitting on the ground, leaning against the wall. Curiosity pulled me closer, and my heart sank as I saw Elise. She looked disheveled and weak. Her eyes were swollen from crying, her bottom lip was cut and bleeding, and her neck was bruised. I hurried over to help her stand and quickly drove her to the hospital.

Elise was silent for a long time while we waited in the emergency room. Finally, when the doctor told us she could be discharged after tending to her wounds, Elise spoke up.

"Can I check-in myself for a few days, doctor? Just until the wound and bruise heal?" she asked.

"Elise, you can rest in your dorm room for a few days. Staying here will just add to your hospital bills," I suggested, though my curiosity was piqued. Why was she so insistent on staying in the hospital instead of going back to her dorm?

Elise sighed heavily. "I just don't want Quinn to see me yet." My eyes widened in shock.

"Did something happen between you and Quinn?" I asked, my voice rising with concern.

Elise looked down at her hands. "Well, she and I kind of... I–I asked her to make a deal with me last night. And—"

My heart sank at Elise's words. I couldn't let her finish; I hurriedly stormed out of the hospital. How could Quinn do this to her? How could she hurt an innocent woman for her own twisted pleasure? How could she do this to her?

I rushed into their dorm room, which was surprisingly unlocked. There stood Quinn at the kitchen counter, casually drinking a glass of water.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, curiosity flashing in her eyes. I marched toward her, my anger boiling inside me. As I got closer, I swiped my hair back and tilted my head to expose my neck. "Go ahead. Make the cut," I challenged, my voice steady despite the rage simmering beneath the surface.

Her eyebrows furrowed as she shot me a sarcastic look. "Are you finally giving in, gorgeous?" Her mocking words only fueled my anger further.

"No, Quinn. You're so fascinated with my neck, aren't you? Desperate for a piece of me. Well, here it is. Go on, do it!" I shot back, my anger boiling over.

She grabbed my neck suddenly, her grip tight and her eyes wild. "You really think I won't, Chloe? You just gave me your consent," she said, her eyes wide with intensity. Despite the fear in my chest, I forced myself to stay composed, unflinching. "Is that what this is all about? You giving in to my twisted need?" She seemed a bit confused, but the dark look in her eyes told me she was too far gone.

"Just get it over with, so I can leave," I commanded, my voice steady. Her gaze drifted to my neck, her grip tightening as she slowly pulled out the familiar metal case. She opened it, revealing a thin piece of paper, and brought it closer to my skin. My jaw clenched as I felt the edge of the paper touch my neck. She slid it slowly across, and I heard her groan in satisfaction. Sickening!

She flipped the other edge of the paper and brought it close to my skin again, slicing another line. I couldn't stop thinking about Elise—she's already been through so much, too fragile to handle Quinn's twisted cruelty again. So, I made my choice—to take this pain instead of letting it fall on Elise. My resolve was strong, but my tears betrayed me, spilling over as she finished the cut. Quinn noticed and, suddenly, released her grip on my neck.

I locked my gaze on hers, anger burning through my tears. "She's paid up now. So don't you dare hurt Elise or lay a finger on her neck, Quinn."

She raised an eyebrow, her face a mix of annoyance and confusion. "You don't get to tell me what to do, Chloe."

"You've hurt her enough, Quinn! You've already done too much!" I shouted, my voice cracking. I could feel my heart racing, on the verge of breaking apart under the weight of it all. For a fleeting second, something softened in her eyes. Then, without a word, she turned her back to me and grabbed her phone, the coldness slipping back over her like a mask.

"Where are you, El?" Quinn's voice dripped with a terrifying calmness as she spoke into the phone. My heart pounded, the panic rising as I realized she was reaching for Elise again. Hadn't she already done enough?

"Don't you fucking dare tell her where you are, Elise!" I screamed, hoping my voice would reach through the line and stop Elise from saying anything.

Quinn ignored me and asked Elise again, her voice a low, chilling whisper. Then, silence. I could barely catch my breath, my chest tightening as Quinn's face twisted into something even darker. She stormed into her bedroom, then reappeared moments later, striding straight for the door.

I acted on instinct, grabbing her arm tightly. "I'm not letting you near her, Quinn." I shouted, desperation fueling my grip. But Quinn's eyes were wild, a storm brewing with each second. She yanked her arm free, her strength fueled by something almost feral, and pushed past me, slamming the door behind her as she stormed out of the dorm.

My heart pounded as I drove, hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly they trembled. I needed to get back to Elise. When I reached the hospital, I rushed to the reception, where the nurse informed me that Elise had been moved to a private room. Without hesitation, I sprinted down the hall.

As I rounded the corner, I spotted Quinn ahead of me, standing at Elise's room. She reached for the door handle, pushed it open, and walked inside. I quickened my pace, and by the time I entered the room, Quinn was already standing a few feet from Elise's bed, frozen in place.

Elise looked terrified, her eyes wide and brimming with tears. "Quinn," she murmured softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Quinn's gaze was sharp and cold, her fists clenched at her sides. "Who?" she demanded, her voice low but laced with a menacing edge. Her whole body seemed to shake with a barely contained rage.

"Who the fuck did this to you, El?!" she roared, her voice echoing through the room.

My mind was spinning. Could I have been wrong? Wasn't it Quinn who had done this to her? All this time, I'd thought she was the one who hurt Elise, yet here she was, demanding answers, her rage palpable.

Elise spoke softly, her voice trembling. "Quinn, don't worry. I'm fine."

But Quinn wasn't convinced. She moved quickly, cupping Elise's face in her hands, her own eyes full of fury and unshed tears. "Tell me who did this, El. If you don't, I swear, I'll tear through the whole campus until I find them. Who the fuck hurt you?" Her voice cracked, both tender and terrifying in its intensity.

Elise hesitated before whispering a name that sent a chill through me. "Ashley." Tears rolled down her cheeks, and Quinn's expression darkened. Her jaw clenched, and her hands shook as she slowly withdrew from Elise, as if afraid of breaking her.

She took a step back and turned towards the door, her gaze landed on me. Her eyes were blazing, her expression deadly. She looked like a storm about to break, and I was caught in the eye of it.

Regret washed over me like a wave, and I felt a deep embarrassment settle in. How could I have been so quick to assume? I'd let my assumptions get the best of me, letting Quinn's own twisted habits paint her as the villain in Elise's suffering. I'd been so wrong, so foolish.

Watching her now, with that intense fury in her eyes and the way she held Elise with such raw protectiveness, I realized just how badly I'd misjudged her. Quinn might have her own darkness, but this wasn't her doing. She was here to protect Elise, not hurt her. I felt a pang of guilt—maybe I should've tried to understand her better instead of jumping to conclusions. I swallowed hard, hoping I could find a way to make things right.