Inflicting Pain (gxg)

● T W E N T Y - T W O | Dreams ●

† Q U I N N †

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 minds—they're like soft whispers from our souls.

Some people say that dreams are just products of our imagination, but for me, they are real memories—fragments 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 me—sitting 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 AM—I'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 canvas—fresh 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 eyes—so calming, yet they stir something painful within me.

That's when the memory hits me—that 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.