𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐘| Quinn (Timecut) [COMPLETED]

five

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APRIL 16, 2003
QUINN'S HOUSE

The silence on the boat was almost suffocating as the three of them settled into their respective spots, tension filling every inch of the small, cozy space. The air was thick with the unspoken weight of everything they had just been through, like ghosts lingering between them, brushing against their skin, cold and unsettling. The night's events hung over them like a storm cloud, and Alexis still couldn't shake the image of the mall-the sharp, metallic smell of fear, the adrenaline pulsing through her veins, and the horrifying realization that she had narrowly escaped death.

They hadn't even had time to process, to truly understand the gravity of what had just happened. All Alexis knew was that she was alive, but she could still feel the chill of death hovering close, as if it had grazed her and decided to linger, waiting for another opportunity.

Quinn moved with quiet purpose, grabbing a blanket from a small stack near the corner, the fabric soft and worn from use. He offered it to Lucy, gesturing to the couch that served as a makeshift bed. "You can just sleep here," he said gently, his voice a soft murmur in the silence.

Lucy nodded, taking the blanket with a small, tired smile. "Thanks," she whispered, clutching the fabric as if it could protect her from the dark thoughts lurking in her mind.

Alexis, standing a few feet away, hesitated for a moment before pulling off her hoodie. She reached over, holding it out to Lucy, her hand steady but her heart racing. "In case you get chilly," she offered, her tone soft, almost vulnerable. It was a simple gesture, but somehow it felt like an act of defiance against the fear, a way of saying, We're still here. We're still alive.

Lucy took the hoodie, her eyes filling with gratitude, and offered Alexis a small, appreciative smile. For a moment, the three of them stood there in silence, the weight of unspoken words pressing down on them.

Quinn noticed the sad, haunted look in Lucy's eyes, and he felt a pang of concern. "Are you okay?" he asked gently, lowering himself onto the couch beside her. Alexis joined him, sitting down on Lucy's other side, their presence a silent comfort, a barrier against the darkness.

Lucy took a deep, shuddering breath, her hands trembling slightly as she clutched the hoodie. "The security guard... he wasn't supposed to die," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. The confession seemed to hang in the air, echoing off the walls of the boat, sinking into their skin.

Alexis's eyes widened, her heart skipping a beat as Lucy's words registered. She glanced at Quinn, the look on his face mirroring her own shock and horror.

"I made the Sweetly Slasher even more deadly," Lucy continued, her voice thick with regret. The weight of her admission seemed to press down on her, her shoulders slumping as she tried to carry the guilt alone.