False God | Quinn Hughes & Jack Hughes

Chapter Six

June 1, 2024

As Carter stood in her bathroom, staring into the mirror, she barely recognized herself. Her hair was still that bright blonde, the color her captor had liked so much. Every time she looked at it, every time she caught a glimpse of herself, she saw his twisted smile flash across her mind, heard his cold, calculated voice telling her how "pretty" it looked that way. It felt like a stain, a cruel reminder she couldn't wash away, no matter how many times she scrubbed her skin or tried to drown out the memories.

She clenched her hands on the bathroom counter, a fresh wave of anger boiling in her veins. Every inch of her skin crawled with the need to change something, anything that would strip away the pieces of him she felt clinging to her. Her eyes flicked to the box of black dye she'd bought impulsively on her way home, hands trembling as she'd reached for it on the shelf. She wanted—no, she *needed*—to take back control, to look in the mirror and see someone who was hers, not someone molded by his sick mind.

With a shaky breath, Carter grabbed the box, reading the instructions even though she barely needed them. Her mind replayed his voice, the praise he'd forced her to listen to every time he'd dyed her hair that same bleach-blonde shade. She squeezed the box tighter until her knuckles turned white, finally tearing it open and getting to work.

She applied the dye methodically, almost ritualistically. Each stroke of the brush felt like she was washing away a piece of him, letting him slip further and further from her grasp. She covered every strand, determined to leave no hint of blonde behind. The color was dark and thick, staining her hands and nails as she worked, but she didn't care. This was her choice, her change. The Carter she'd become after the captivity was gone, slipping down the drain as the black dye covered every inch of the bright blonde she despised.

After what felt like hours, she finally looked up, meeting her gaze in the mirror. The black hair framed her face, harsh and striking, a stark contrast to the Carter she'd once been. She looked...different. Stronger, maybe. There was a fierceness in her expression that she hadn't seen in a long time. She took in the new version of herself, but the satisfaction was short-lived. Behind her eyes, memories lurked, the darkness seeping into her mind as she remembered those days she'd spent in that basement. This wasn't enough; the dye couldn't erase what she'd been through, no matter how much she tried.

Her heart began to pound, each beat echoing louder, filling the silence of her house. She wanted to scream, to throw something, to make the feeling of helplessness go away. The anger, the fear, the pain—it all boiled over, consuming her until she couldn't contain it anymore.

She stormed out of the bathroom, her fists clenching and unclenching as her vision blurred. The house was too quiet, too still. It felt suffocating, trapping her with the memories she was desperate to escape. In a sudden burst of fury, she picked up the nearest object—a vase that sat on the side table—and hurled it across the room. It shattered against the wall, pieces scattering across the floor, but even that sound wasn't enough to drown out the rage and frustration brewing inside her.

One by one, she grabbed anything in sight and threw it, not caring about the mess or the damage. She tore through the room, ripping down curtains, overturning chairs, letting the chaos spill out of her in waves. The mess was something tangible, something she could control. But still, it wasn't enough. It couldn't touch the brokenness inside her, the part of her that was shattered in ways that no amount of destruction could fix.

Finally, her strength gave out, and she collapsed to her knees in the middle of the debris. Her breath came in ragged gasps, tears streaming down her face as the reality of it all sank in. The walls of her house were silent, bearing witness to her breakdown, to the pain she could no longer keep hidden.

As the sobs wracked her body, she heard the faint sound of keys turning in the lock. She barely registered it at first, too lost in her grief and exhaustion. But the door opened, and footsteps echoed in the hall. She looked up, her tear-streaked face meeting the shocked expressions of Jamie and Trevor as they entered, their eyes widening as they took in the destruction around her.

"Carter," Jamie's voice was soft, filled with concern as he took a cautious step toward her. He knelt down beside her, his hand reaching out tentatively, unsure if she'd accept his touch. "Hey, hey... It's okay."

Trevor was right behind him, his face a mixture of worry and heartbreak as he looked down at her. She could feel their eyes on her, feel their sympathy and concern washing over her like a wave. And that only made her cry harder, because she didn't want their pity. She didn't want them to see her like this, broken and vulnerable.

"I... I couldn't..." she choked out, her voice barely a whisper as she struggled to find the words. "I just... I can't stand it. Every time I look at myself, I see him. I see everything he did to me, and I just... I wanted to be someone else."

Jamie reached out, brushing a strand of her newly dyed hair away from her face. "It's okay to feel this way, Carter. After everything you've been through... It's okay."

She shook her head, pulling away from his touch as she looked down at the mess she'd created. "I just wanted to feel like myself again. But it's like... like he took that away from me. I don't even know who I am anymore."

Trevor knelt beside her, his hand resting gently on her shoulder. "You're still you, Carter. No one can take that away from you—not him, not anyone."

The warmth of his hand on her shoulder was grounding, a reminder that she wasn't alone in this. They were here, standing by her, even when she felt like she was falling apart. She let out a shaky breath, her hands trembling as she reached up to wipe the tears from her cheeks.

"I don't know what to do," she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. "I thought... I thought changing my hair would make me feel different, but it didn't work. I still feel... I still feel like I'm trapped."

Jamie and Trevor exchanged a glance, a silent conversation passing between them before Jamie spoke. "Carter, it's going to take time. What you went through... it's not something that you can just forget or change with a hair dye. But we're here. We're not going anywhere."

She looked up at him, her eyes meeting his, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she felt a flicker of hope. It was small, barely a spark, but it was there. She wasn't alone. She had people who cared about her, who were willing to stand by her no matter how broken she felt.

Trevor squeezed her shoulder gently. "Why don't we start by cleaning this up? It's a mess, but we'll help. And then... maybe we can just sit and talk. Or we can put on one of those old hockey games you love. Whatever you need, we're here."

Carter nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat as she took a shaky breath. "Thank you," she whispered, the words barely audible but filled with all the gratitude she felt. She didn't know how she was going to heal, how she was going to put the pieces of herself back together. But with Jamie and Trevor by her side, she felt a glimmer of strength she hadn't felt in a long time.

Authors note
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