â Q U I N N â
Words spoken in a moment of vulnerability have the power to heal or destroy. That's why I've always kept my deepest pain, my darkest memories, hidden from others. Confession feels like weaknessâsomething only the brave or foolish dare to do. Revealing secrets is to let oneself be seen in the raw, without masks or pretenses. It may be good for the soul but bad for the reputation. The soul that suffers in silence carries its burden alone, choosing to bear the weight rather than risk exposure.
It's a gambleâit can either free a person, lifting the weight off their shoulders or pull them further into despair, unraveling everything they've tried to hold together.
My head was pounding, a dull, persistent ache. The room was wrapped in a deep, unsettling silence. I felt like I might scream at any moment. How long have I been sitting here? I couldn't tell. Across from me, she waited, her face calm, patient. She's giving me time, but the weight of her quiet expectation only added to the storm swirling in my mind. My hands won't stop shaking, my leg bouncing uncontrollably. So much is going on in my head, but I couldn't find a place to start.
"Do you want me to call her, Quinn?" Her voice is soft, steady, like she's trying not to push too hard.
I didn't answer right away. My thoughts were a mess, my head down as I continued fidgeting with my fingers, the discomfort growing with every second that passes. I've been sitting here for too long. What am I even doing? Was this a mistake?
"I don't think that's a good idea," I finally muttered, my voice barely above a whisper.
"Why would you say that?" she asked gently. I lifted my head, meeting her eyes again.
"Because I've hurt her." My voice trembled, the guilt weighing heavy. "I did hurt your daughter, Jade." My hands clenched in frustration, the reality of what I did sinking in deeper. I let my emotions get the best of me, and I hurt her.
Jade's expression didn't waver, her calmness almost unsettling after everything I just confessed. She stayed composed, her eyes full of understanding.
"You know," she began softly, "it's a good thing that you can admit you've made mistakes, Quinn. That you hurt someone. It shows you have a conscience, that part of you knows what you did was wrong."
I shook my head, the weight of it all still crushing. "But it doesn't change anything. I still did it." My voice was barely a whisper.
"No, it doesn't erase what happened," she agreed, her voice steady. "But admitting it, feeling bad about it, is the first step toward understanding why it happened in the first placeâand toward healing. It shows that part of you wants to do things differently."
"I don't know..." I said, clenching my jaw, trying to swallow the rising knot of frustration in my throat. "I just feel like I'm broken. Like I'm too far gone to get better."
Jade hummed thoughtfully before speaking again. "I don't believe you're too far gone. In fact, the very fact that you're sitting here, talking to me, shows that part of you wants to change. A part of you wants something better. That's not brokenâthat's strength. But it's not something you have to do alone."
I didn't respond right away, just sat there in silence, her words settling over me. She continued, "You've been carrying all this pain and guilt by yourself for so long. That isolation can make everything feel so much heavier. Have you ever thought about letting someone in? About opening up to someone in your life about what you're going through?"
I shook my head, my hands clenched so tight they turned white. "I can't let people see this side of me. They'd just run away. Hurt me. Hate me. Or worse, try to 'fix' me. I don't need pity."
"I understand why you feel that way," Jade said gently. "But the people who care about you might surprise you. They don't need to fix youâthey just need to understand. You're struggling, but that doesn't mean you're beyond help. Sometimes, just letting someone in, sharing even a small part of what you're feeling, can make all the difference. You don't have to fight this battle alone."
I looked up at her, and she smiledâa warm, gentle smile that held no judgment, only understanding. It was a small comfort, but somehow, it made me feel a little less alone.
The silence between Jade and me hung heavy, stretching out like an eternity. I was lost in my thoughts, barely registering the sound of the door opening behind me. My mind was too clouded to focus on anything else. Maybe my time was up, and Jade had another patient lined up.
"Mom?" A familiar voice broke through the haze, and my heart clenched. "I didn't know you still have a patient." The footsteps grew closer, my anxiety rising with each one.
"Come, dear," Jade said calmly, but I could feel the unease twisting inside me. My leg started bouncing again, uncontrollably this time, as the footsteps neared.
"Quinn?!" Chloe's voice hit me like a punch to the gut. I couldn't bear to look at her. The shame, the guiltâit was too much. I hurt her, and the weight of that was crushing me.
She sat on the other end of the couch, but I still couldn't bring myself to meet her eyes. I glanced at Jade, who gave me a reassuring smile, but it did little to calm the storm inside. My jaw tightened as I clenched my fists even harder, I stared down at the floor again. The silence was suffocating.
Finally, I sighed, deeply, almost as if trying to push the weight off my chest. Then, in a voice barely louder than a whisper, I let out the words I'd been holding back for years.
"J-Jacoby... Jacoby West." My voice trembled. "That's what my father named me."
Saying it out loud felt like peeling off an old band-aid, exposing a wound that never quite healed.
â C H L O E â
Confession is not weakness. It takes a very strong person to open up and admit their flaws. Sometimes, letting it out feels like a weight has been lifted, while other times, it's like the burden just shifts, waiting for the next step. But that first step is importantâit's the start of something. What really matters is what you choose to do after.
Confession isn't betrayal either. It's not about the words you say or the actions you take; it's about the feelings behind them. If someone could make me stop loving you, that would be the real betrayal. Sometimes, the hardest thing to do is the right thing. And even though it might be painful, letting go of the things that weigh you down can be the only way to set yourself free.
The thought lingered in my mind again, recalling that moment outside the coffee shop when a woman called her by a name I didn't recognize. So, she really did know her. It gnawed at me, but I pushed it aside for now.
I stayed quiet, watching Quinn from the other end of the couch. She looked so uneasy, her anxiety palpable. Her eyes kept blinking, hands clenched tightly, and her leg wouldn't stop bouncing. I wanted to move closer, to comfort her somehow, but before I could, my mom softly cleared her throat. I glanced at her and saw her giving a gentle shake of her head.
Right... give her space, I reminded myself, nodding slightly. I stayed put, remaining on the other end of the couch, trying to give Quinn the room she needed to feel safe.
"I... I hated when Papa called me by that name," Quinn's voice trembled, her lips quivering as she spoke. "But Mama... she called me 'By'. She was the only one who could calm me down, the only one who could take away the pain I felt." Her eyes filled with unshed tears, and her voice cracked. "But... but I killed her. Papa and I... we killed Mama."
My breath hitched, and my heart pounded in my chest. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. The pain in her voice was unbearable, and my own tears threatened to spill.
"I was eight," she began, her voice barely above a whisper. "Back in Texas. I woke up one night hearing muffled voices and strange noises coming from downstairs. I was scared, but I went to see what was happening." Her hands were shaking, and her leg bounced with agitation. "Mama was sitting in the kitchen, her face... it was bruised, her hands tied behind her back. She told me to go back upstairs, but then I heard Papa. He told me to stay. Mama begged him to let me leave, but he said I might get hurt if I did." Her voice wavered, each word drenched in fear and sorrow.
She paused, tears streaming down her face now. "Papa... he grabbed a knife, brought it close to Mama's neck, and said she was helping him practice for his operation. I saw him... I saw him cut into her skin. She winced, but she stayed quiet, not making a sound even though I could see the pain in her eyes."
My heart shattered, hearing the horror Quinn had carried with her all these years. Tears fell from her eyes, and I could only sit in stunned silence, the weight of her confession sinking into my bones.
"Every night after that, Papa would make me go downstairs to watch," Quinn's voice wavered, trembling with every word. "Mama couldn't do anything. He never untied her from that chair. I didn't even know how she ate. One night, I was watching Papa cut some paper, and he told me to get closer to Mama. He wiped the blood from her neck and handed me a small piece of paper."
Her hands shook as she continued, her face contorting with the painful memory. "He held my hand... brought it to Mama's neck. Mama begged him to leave me out of it, begged him to just do it himself, but he wouldn't listen. It was like he couldn't hear her anymore. And then, he made me do it. He slid that paper across her skin with my hand, and I saw the blood. Mama cried... and IâI told him she was hurting."
She paused, choking back a sob. "But he said no, she wasn't. He told me to do it again, this time by myself, without his help. I didn't want to, but when I looked at Mama, she smiled. She nodded at me, but... her tears wouldn't stop falling. Papa shouted, so I did it again. I brought the paper to her skin and made another cut. Mama stayed still, not even flinching. And then... Papa told me to do it one more time."
Quinn's voice cracked, her tears flowing freely now. "I looked at Mama again, and she looked into my eyes. And then she said... 'It's okay, By. You're not hurting me. It's okay.' She smiled at me, and I... I smiled back. And then I slid the paper across her skin again."
My breath hitched as the realization hit me, a cold wave rushing over my body. Those same words... the ones her mama had whispered to her. "It's okay, By. You're not hurting me. It's okay."
That was what I said to Quinn after she cut my skinâwhen she went hysterical, completely losing control. I hadn't understood it at the time, her sudden panic, the way she pulled away like she'd done something unforgivable. But now... now it made sense.
Was that the reason? I thought, my mind racing. Was that why she broke down so violently? Because I said the same words her mother used to say while she endured that nightmare?
My heart clenched as I replayed the moment in my head. I had unknowingly triggered something deep, something that brought her back to a memory that has been haunting her for many years.
Tears streamed down my face as Quinn spoke, her voice trembling with every word. I couldn't believe the horror she had endured, the twisted, sick game her father had forced her into. My heart ached for her, the pain so raw, so unimaginable.
Quinn's voice cracked as she continued, "I thought it was over. I thought it was done. But the next night, he didn't let me cut mama's skin anymore. Instead, he told me to sit on the floor. I was confused, but I did what he asked. Then... then he rolled up my shorts." Her voice grew quieter, more fragile. "Suddenly, I felt it. The sting. He slit the skin on my thigh with that same piece of paper. It hurt. It hurt so much I wanted to scream, but I couldn't. I just froze." Her fists clenched as her voice cracked.
"Mama screamed. She screamed so loud, but Papa didn't care. He didn't hear her. He never did. And then... then he handed me the paper, told me to do it myself."
I couldn't breathe, couldn't move, as she spoke.
Quinn's tears spilled over, her voice breaking as she recalled the worst part. "I didn't want to do it. I didn't understand why. But then Mama... Mama called me. She told me to look at her. She said, 'It's okay, By.' And I believed her. I trusted her. So I did it. I cut myself. Just a small cut... and it hurt so much."
She paused, wiping away the tears that wouldn't stop falling.
"And then... Mama said something. At first, I couldn't hear her. She was mumbling. But Papa told me to do it again. So I did. I cut myself again. And this time, Mama said it. She looked at me, smiling through her tears, and said, 'I love you.'"
Quinn's voice shook as she added, "Papa told me she'd keep saying it if I kept cutting. So I did. I cut myself again and again, just to hear her say those words... 'I love you.'"
"I wanted her to keep saying those words. It felt so nice to hear it. Every time she said 'I love you,' the pain faded, even just a little. I didn't feel the sting of the cuts or the ache in my heart; I just felt her love wrapping around me like a warm blanket. So I kept going. I kept cutting myself, desperate for her to keep saying those words, to keep assuring me that everything was okay, that I was okay."
I was completely shattered, my own tears mixing with Quinn's. My heart broke for the little girl she had been, for the unimaginable pain she had endured, and for the twisted, heartbreaking love she had clung to.
Now it all made sense to me. The scars on her thighs, those reminders of her pain and struggle, told a story I hadn't understood until now. Each mark was a testament to her desperate longing for her mother's wordsâthose soft, soothing assurances that made everything feel a little less heavy. She had been chasing that feeling, trying to recapture the love and comfort her mother once provided, even in the most twisted way possible.
Quinn wasn't just cutting her skin; she was reaching for a piece of the past, trying to hold onto the only thing that had ever made her feel safe. In those moments, with every cut, she sought a connection that had been torn away from her far too soon. The pain she inflicted upon herself and other women was a way to keep her mother's voice alive, to drown out the hurt and emptiness that threatened to swallow her whole.
"We kept doing that for a few more nights," she continued, her voice trembling as she relived the memories. "Either papa would make me cut mama's skin or my own, while she sat there, tied to that chair. And then one morning, I went to her. She was still sitting in the same place, her head down. I kept calling her, thinking she was asleep. But when I touched her hand... it was cold. So cold." Her voice broke, and I could see the pain etched across her face.
"I stayed with her for a while. I didn't know what to do. Then, suddenly, these random people forced their way into the house. Two men were holding papa. Some lady came over to check on mama, and then she looked at the other guy and... shook her head." Tears were streaming down her cheeks, her voice barely a whisper as she went on. "Then papa... papa just laughed, staring at me. It was the scariest thing I've ever seen. He looked at me and said, 'You killed your mama, Jacoby.' And then they dragged him out of the house. The lady took me away. That was the last time I saw mama."
My heart felt like it had been torn into a million pieces. Hearing her recount that momentâwhat she had endured, what she had lived throughâit was unbearable. The trauma she carried was so deep, so overwhelming. The weight of her story, of her pain, hit me like a tidal wave, and I could feel my chest tighten with a sorrow I couldn't put into words. I wanted to reach out to her, to somehow take away even a fraction of that pain, but I knew nothing could erase the scars left by a memory like that.
"I know it took an enormous amount of courage to share what you just shared, Quinn. To open up about something so dark and painfulâthat's incredibly brave,"
My mom started talking. Her gaze was calm, filled with a deep understanding.
"What happened to your mom... what you went through as a child... none of that was your fault. You were so young. You were only doing what he made you believe was okay. You just wanted to feel your mom's love, to hear her say those words. You and your mom, both of you, went through so much pain at the hands of someone who should have been your protector."
She paused, giving Quinn a moment. "But that painâthat wasn't yours to carry, Quinn. Not then. Not now."
Quinn's hands trembled, and her eyes were fixed on a spot on the floor, but there was a subtle shift in her, as if a piece of her burden had lightened.
"You've carried this alone for so long," she continued, her voice growing even softer. "But sharing it today, letting someone inâit's the start of something new. A step toward healing. It won't be easy, and it won't happen overnight, but this is a beginning. And you don't have to face it by yourself anymore."
The words seemed to bring a glimmer of calm, a crack in the wall Quinn had kept up for so long. She sat there quietly, absorbing it all. I felt a warmth settle within me too, as if my mom's words somehow lifted the air around us. My mom was rightâQuinn didn't have to bear this alone anymore. Not ever again.
The room fell into a heavy silence after that. Quinn didn't speak again, not until it was time to leave. As we stepped out of my mom's clinic, she called my name.
"Could you wait for me outside?" I asked softly. Quinn met my gaze for a moment, her hand lingering on the door knob, then gave a silent nod and stepped outside.
As the door closed, I felt my mom's presence behind me. "Chloe..." she spoke gently, a warmth in her voice. "Are you okay, dear?"
I shook my head, unable to hold back the flood of emotion. "No, Mom. I'm not. My heart feels so heavy... I feel so much pain for her." Tears began to spill down my cheeks, the weight of Quinn's story pressing down on me.
My mom stepped closer, brushing away my tears. "You have to be strong, dear. For her. You have to be her strength when she's down, and I know you can do that." She looked at me with unwavering kindness, no judgment, no hesitation. "Quinn chose to share her darkest memory with you here because she needed someone to hold her up when she feels she can't stand."
Her hand rested on my shoulder, grounding me. "Be her light when she feels lost, Chloe," she said with a gentle smile. "Because sometimes, that's all someone needs."
When I stepped out of my mom's clinic, I saw Quinn at the far end of the hall, leaning against the wall, her head lowered, staring down at the floor. I walked toward her slowly, taking in her silence, her stillness. When I finally reached her, she didn't say anything. I couldn't hold back any longer. I wrapped my arms around her neck, resting my head against her chest as tears started falling again. In that moment, I felt her arms wrap around my back, holding me close. It was the first time we had really huggedâwarm, intense, filled with emotions that needed no words. It felt genuine, raw.
"I'm starving," she whispered, her voice low, almost hesitant. "Would you like to grab a bite?"
I leaned back, meeting her gaze. There was still a heavy weight in her eyes, but I gave her a small smile and nodded.
We walked down the hall in silence, Quinn in front of me. As we moved, something urged me to reach out, and I gently took her hand. She halted in her tracks, surprised.
"Quinn..." I whispered, feeling the weight of the moment. "Thank you. For letting me in." I stepped closer, leaning in until our foreheads touched. Her eyes fluttered closed, and I cradled her face in my hands.
"I want you to know that I meant what I said last time." She didn't respond verbally, but I could hear her taking deep breaths, processing my words. "Just know I'm always here, okay?"
When she opened her eyes, they felt differentâmuch calmer. A small smile crept onto her lips, and as our eyes met, she nodded slowly in response.
***Author's Note***
This is by far the longest chapter I've written for this story, and I didn't want to cut any details about Quinn's past. I have about 6-8 chapters left, but I'm torn between finishing the story here or making a sequel. I have more ideas for Quinn and Chloe's story, but I worry it might be a lot to read already. I'd love to hear your thoughts on whether I should wrap up the story with the remaining chapters or continue with a sequel.
Cheers and I hope you enjoy reading! âºï¸