â Q U I N N â
Nighttime is when we often reflect on our lives, and in those quiet hours, dreams become our escape, allowing us to delve deep into the hidden corners of our mindsâthey're like soft whispers from our souls.
Some people say that dreams are just products of our imagination, but for me, they are real memoriesâfragments of my past that linger while I navigate my present. These dreams have a powerful way of revealing truths I refuse to acknowledge when I'm awake. For me, that truth is the loneliness I carry inside.
But what if some dreams are actually doors to unseen worlds? Perhaps they serve as windows into parallel universes, where different versions of ourselves are living out alternate lives, making choices we can only imagine. I can't help but wish that another version of me, somewhere out there, doesn't have to endure this kind of pain.
I'm sitting on the floor, my legs crossed, in an old place that feels so familiar from my childhood. She's right in front of meâsitting in a chair, her green eyes calm yet filled with tears. I can see her lips moving, but all I hear is silence. I glance down at my thighs and see cuts and blood seeping from them. In my hand, I hold a piece of paper, and as I slide it against my skin, fresh blood oozes out. When I look back up at her, she smiles and mumbles those words again, but the silence is deafening. Why can't I hear her?!
Frustration builds within me as I make another slash, watching her reaction. Tears well up in her green eyes, and her lips continue to form words that I can't quite catch. I feel anger rising. I cut my thighs a few more times, each mark deepening the silence between us. Our eyes meet again; she's crying, and I can read her lips, but the words remain a mystery.
Suddenly, I jolted awake in my bed, my body drenched in sweat and my heart pounding in my chest. I gripped it tightly, pain coursing through me as tears streamed down my face while I struggled to catch my breath.
Sunday, 11 AMâI've been holed up in my room since waking from that dream. My hands are still shaking, an itch coursing through me that I know all too well. It's a craving I can't ignore. For the past few weeks, I haven't had the chance to run my fingers along other women's necks or make those familiar slashes on their skin. This deprivation is driving me frantic. I felt like my chest is about to burst, my head spinning. I have to do something.
I stormed out of my bedroom, slamming the door in frustration. In the kitchen, I saw Elise jumped at the noise, but I didn't care. I flung open the top cabinet door, my eyes locking onto the bottles of vodka I've stashed away for moments like this. I grabbed one and head straight to the bathroom without a word.
My mind was racing, and I don't know how long I've been leaning against the edge of the bathtub, sitting on the cold floor. My joggers are pulled down to my knees, revealing my canvasâfresh red lines crisscrossing my skin. Tiny pieces of paper litter the floor, their edges stained with evidence of what I've done. I lifted the vodka bottle to my lips and took a few deep gulps, the burn a brief distraction from the chaos in my head.
"Why can't I hear those words?" I whisper to myself, frustration bubbling over. "I need to hear them. I have to..."
I can hear something banging on the bathroom door, but my mind is too clouded, too buzzed. I kept my head down, the noise a distant echo as it continues.
"Quinn?!" I heard someone calling my name, but I'm too lost in the haze to lift my head. Then suddenly, I felt soft, warm hands on my face. "Quinn! Talk to me!" I felt her hand slap my cheek, jolting me from my thoughts. She lifted my chin, and I met her emerald green eyesâso calming, yet they stir something painful within me.
That's when the memory hits meâthat dream. Another woman with the same green eyes, tears brimming as she looked at me. Her lips moved, mouthing words I long to hear, but no matter how hard I try, I can't hear them. Frustration bubbled up again, and I tried to stand up, her warm hands gripped me, steadying me. I yanked away from her.
"Don't fucking touch me, Chloe." My voice came out angry, cutting through the silence. She didn't say a word, just stared back at me, her eyes filled with a thousand unspoken words.
I pulled my joggers up, stumbling out of the bathroom, leaving behind the bottle of vodka and the torn sheets of paper scattered across the floor. Each step feels uncertain, my body unsteady, as if my own weight is too much to carry. The chaos of the bathroom, of my thoughts, stays behind me, but I can't shake the heaviness that clings to me like a thick fog.
I moved slowly, barely keeping my balance, while everything around me felt like it's closing in. The air was suffocating, and all I want was to get awayâto escape this feeling, even if I don't know where I'm going.
As I stepped out of the bathroom, I caught sight of another familiar faceâmy roommate. Her eyes widened in shock, fear reflecting in them, but I didn't care. I brushed past her, the weight of my own turmoil overshadowing everything else. I heard Chloe's footsteps behind me, urgency lacing her voice.
"Quinn, hold on. Talk to me."
I kept walking, heading straight back to my bedroom, desperate to escape the concern and questions. Each step felt heavy, the tension thick in the air, as I try to drown out the worry and confusion that clings to me like a shadow.
I slammed the door behind me, but Chloe was quick, opening it again with that soft, familiar voice. "Quinn? What's going on? Talk to me, please." Her words were gentle, almost too comforting, and it made something in me twist.
"Get out, Chloe," I said, my voice cold, my back still turned to her. I didn't want her here, not right now. But I heard her footsteps moving closer until she was in front of me.
"No, talk to me, Quinn." Her eyes locked onto mine, both comforting and frustrating all at once. "What's wrong?" She searched my face for answers, but I didn't want to give her any.
"Just get out, will you?" I snapped, throwing a fierce look at her, but she didn't flinch.
"This isn't you, Quinn. Just tell me what's wrong." Her voice stayed calm, like she was trying to reach the part of me that I didn't even want to acknowledge right now.
"No, Chloe! This is me!" I shouted, my voice trembling with anger as my hand shook uncontrollably. "The same fucked-up, twisted person who loves inflicting pain on others. This is who I am!"
Chloe grabbed my shaking hands, her grip firm but tender. "No, it's not," she said, her eyes soft but unrelenting. "This is a person you made up, Quinn, to hide the real you behind all those walls you've built."
I yanked my hands from hers and lunged forward, my hand wrapping around her neck. Her eyes widened, and she instinctively stepped back until her back hit the bedside table. "If this is someone I made up," I hissed, my voice cold and dangerous, "then why does my mind crave to slit someone's skin right now, Chloe?"
Chloe stayed calm despite my grip around her neck. Her green eyes held a mix of confusion, sadness, and maybe a little frustration, but her body wasn't tense. "Is that what will make you better, Quinn?" she asked, her voice steady.
I tightened my grip. "You know it will," I spat, staring into her eyes, trying to convince myself. But deep down, I knew I was lying. This pain I inflictedâon others and on myselfâit only served one purpose and one purpose alone.
"Okay, Quinn," she whispered, tilting her head slightly in my grip, exposing more of her neck. "Go ahead and take it out on me. If this will make you feel better, do it."
The sight of her neck so vulnerable brought a rush through my body. My hands trembled, caught between the urge to stop and the darker urge to slit her skin. I wasn't sure which was winning.
"You think I won't do it, Chloe?" My voice rose, filled with desperation and anger.
"Go ahead, Quinn. Do it," she said calmly, her eyes soft, her face peaceful. She closed her eyes like she was ready, like she was embracing whatever was about to happen.
I grabbed a tiny sheet of paper from my case, my hands trembling as I brought the edge to her skin. I watched her, expecting fear, panic, something. But Chloe didn't flinch. Her breathing remained steady. Frustrated, I quickly slid the paper across her neck, the cut longer than I'd meant it to be. Blood began to seep from the thin line on her skin, but she stayed still. Unmoved.
My hands shook more violently. My jaw clenched as I stared at her, waiting for her to cry out, to pull awayâanything. But she didn't.
"It's okay, Quinn. You're not hurting me. It's okay," she whispered, her voice soft, familiar wordsâtoo familiar. It echoed in my mind from something in the past. The words hit me like a sudden wave of icy water, washing over me, freezing me in place.
"W-What...What did you say?" I stammered, my heart racing, my chest tightening with a sharp, unbearable sting. It felt like everything was collapsing inside me, the past rushing back in a flood I couldn't control.
"It's okay, Quinn. You're notâ"
"Fuck!" I screamed, spinning around, panic crashing over me like a tidal wave. "Stop talking!"
"Quinn! What's wrong?" Chloe's voice trembled now, worry thick in her words, like she was on the verge of tears.
"Stay the fuck away from me, Chloe!" I shouted, my chest tightening with every breath, the pain inside me spreading like fire.
"No, Quinn! I can't do that!" Her voice grew louder, matching mine, refusing to back down. She stepped closer, her eyes glistening with tears, desperate to understand.
"Fuck! Leave me alone, Chloe! Stay away from me!" I was losing control, my voice shaking with hysteria. My world was spinning, and all I wanted was for her to stop, to leave, to make this pain go away. But she wouldn't. She was still there, still trying to reach me, and it made everything hurt even more.
"Quinn, help me understand. Let me in, just for once." Chloe's hands cradled my trembling face, her touch gentle but firm.
"Chloe... just stay away from me... please," I begged, my voice cracking, tears spilling down my cheeks.
"No, Quinn. I can't." Her voice trembled as she wiped the tears from my face, refusing to let me push her away.
"Why are you being so stubborn? Why can't you just leave me?! Please... I'm begging you." My hands clenched, frustration bubbling inside me.
"You know why, Quinn?" She paused, but I didn't look at her, my eyes fixed on the floor.
"Because I love you."
Her words hit me like a shockwave, and I froze, my breath catching in my throat. "So I'm sorry if I just can't leave you like that. I can't, and I won't, Quinn. I'm in love with you."
Her confession hung in the air, suffocating me. My head snapped up, eyes wide in disbelief. No! Not this again. The words screamed in my mind as I stared at her, my body growing numb. The pain in my chest deepened, matching the frantic beating of my heart. I couldn't breathe. Chloe's expression shifted as she noticed my hands stiffening, my face paling.
"Quinn?" Her voice wavered with concern. I couldn't answer. My chest tightened, and it felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. The room spun, and I stepped back, losing my balance. That's when I felt Chloe's hand on my back.
"Shit! Quinn, you're having a panic attack!" she exclaimed, her voice urgent but calm. I gasped for air, but it felt like nothing was reaching my lungs. She gently guided me to sit on the floor, my back leaning against the bed frame.
"Quinn, look at me. Breathe in through your nose," she instructed, her voice soothing despite the panic swirling in her own eyes. I tried to follow, inhaling shakily.
"Now, breathe out through your mouth," she said, demonstrating as she held my face, her touch grounding me. But my fingers wouldn't move, my face was numb, and the edges of my vision blurred.
"Quinn, do it again. Breathe," Chloe coaxed, trying to stay calm, her beauty somehow radiating through the panic. My eyelids grew heavy, the room darkening around me.
"Quinn, hey! Look at me," she urged, her voice pulling at the last bits of my consciousness. But then, there was only darkness.
"I love you, By..."
Her whispered words made me smile as I pressed the sharp edge of the paper against my thigh again.
"I love you..."
Finally, I heard her say it again.
I slowly opened my eyes, my head heavy and throbbing as if caught in a vice. I was lying in my bed, the golden hues of sunset filtering through the window. As I blinked away the haze, my gaze drifted to the corner of the room. There she wasâChloe, her expression a mixture of worry and concern.
"Quinn..." She took a step closer and sat at the edge of my bed, her hand finding mine. It was warm, soft, gentle. "Are you okay?"
I remained silent, lost in the memory of what had transpired before the darkness swallowed me.
"Quinn, Iâ"
"I don't want to talk about what happened earlier, Chloe," I interrupted. She stared at me for a moment, her eyes searching mine. I couldn't tear my gaze away from her.
"Please," I added softly. She gave me a small smile and nodded.
"Okay, Quinn. Just take a rest for now." Her thumb stroked my hand, a comforting rhythm that calmed the chaos within me. "Just know I'm always here."
Her smile felt warmer than the sun setting outside. As she stood and walked closer, I held my breath. She leaned in, pressing a soft kiss on my cheek, filling me with a sense of relief I hadn't felt in ages.
I watched as she slowly walked out of the bedroom, leaving behind a lingering warmth.
Am I still dreaming? It felt surreal, like a fleeting fantasy. Those same words I longed to hear from the woman in my dreamsâshe had said them. I didn't know if I had truly heard her right, but the emotions swelled within me earlier, it was overwhelming and uncontainable.