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Chapter_79
Quinn’s breath hitched as Juliet’s panic-stricken face came into focus. The sight of the blood—the unmistakable, crimson stains on her clothes—made everything inside Quinn freeze for a brief, terrifying second. The pain surged again, sharper than before, but she fought to suppress the urge to scream.
“No… ambulance…” Quinn whispered, her voice strained, barely audible. She attempted to push herself upright, her hands trembling with each movement, but the agony in her abdomen made her vision blur. “It’s… it’s not that bad.”
Juliet’s heart raced, her hands hovering around Quinn but unsure of what to do. “Don’t talk like that,” she muttered, a note of hysteria creeping into her voice. She was about to call again when Quinn weakly shook her head, her eyes locking with Juliet’s.
“It’s not… it’s not the first time,” Quinn managed to say, her breath shallow as she fought to stay conscious. The words were a faint echo of the storm inside her head—the unrelenting weight of everything she had been holding in, physically and emotionally.
Juliet stared at her, her eyes wide with shock. “You’re bleeding, Quinn,” she repeated, her voice softening as she realized the severity of the situation. “This isn’t normal. You need help.”
Quinn squeezed her eyes shut, feeling a cold sweat slicking down her neck. She couldn’t explain it, couldn’t tell Juliet everything that had been weighing on her. Alexander’s words, the way he had dismissed her so callously, were still ringing in her ears. But there was something deeper, something she didn’t have the strength to address right now.
“I’ll be fine,” she whispered, though her tone was anything but convincing. She could feel the warmth of her blood seeping through her clothes, soaking into the fabric. It wasn’t just the physical pain; it was the overwhelming sense of helplessness that threatened to swallow her whole.
Juliet wasn’t convinced. She bent down, her face tight with concern as she gently cupped Quinn’s cheek. “I don’t think you understand how serious this is. Please, let me help you.”
The desperation in Juliet’s voice made something inside Quinn crack. She opened her eyes, her vision blurry from both pain and tears. “I don’t… want to bother anyone anymore, Juliet,” she murmured, feeling the weight of her loneliness pressing on her chest. “I don’t want anyone to see me like this…”
But Juliet wasn’t having it. Without another word, she grabbed the phone from her pocket, dialed for the ambulance, and spoke urgently to the operator. Quinn didn’t fight her this time, her strength ebbing as the warmth of the blood continued to stain her skin.
After what felt like an eternity, the doorbell rang, sharp and insistent. Juliet quickly opened the door to reveal the paramedics, who swiftly rushed in, taking charge of the situation with practiced ease. Quinn, barely aware of what was happening around her, felt herself being lifted onto a stretcher. The coolness of the medical equipment, the sterile smell of the room, everything was a blur as her thoughts faded in and out.
Before the paramedics could carry her out of the study, Quinn’s gaze drifted to the doorway, where Alexander stood silently, watching them. His expression was unreadable, his eyes dark with something—concern? Guilt? She couldn’t tell.
“Take care of her,” he said, his voice steady but with an edge of something that made Quinn’s heart twist in her chest. It was a simple statement, a command, but in that moment, it felt like more. As if there was more he wasn’t saying, more he wasn’t allowing himself to show.
Juliet glanced at him, then back at Quinn, as if weighing the unspoken tension in the air. She nodded, a quick movement, and followed the paramedics down the stairs, her hand on Quinn’s arm for comfort.
The journey to the hospital was a blur, and Quinn wasn’t sure when she fell unconscious, her mind slipping away into a haze of pain and exhaustion. The last thing she remembered was Juliet’s voice, soft but determined, urging her to hold on.
When she awoke, the sterile hospital room greeted her with its cold, clinical light. The faint sound of machines beeped softly in the background. She blinked, slowly gathering her bearings, her hand instinctively going to her abdomen. The pain had dulled, but it hadn’t completely gone away.
A soft knock on the door startled her. Juliet entered, her face weary but relieved. She smiled weakly as she stepped closer to the bed. “How are you feeling?” she asked gently, sitting on the edge of the chair beside Quinn.
“I’ve been better,” Quinn murmured, her voice raspy. Her throat felt dry, and the emotional weight of the past few days threatened to crash down on her once more.
Juliet studied her for a long moment before speaking again. “I called Alexander,” she said quietly, her eyes flickering to the floor. “He’s not here, though. He told me to take care of you.”
Quinn closed her eyes, her mind racing. “He told you… to take care of me?” The words felt foreign on her tongue, yet they were undeniably true. There was something so hollow about it, as if it was just another order, another demand.
Juliet nodded, her expression tinged with uncertainty. “He said he’ll be back later.”
Quinn didn’t respond, her thoughts swirling around Alexander’s words, his cold detachment, the way he’d dismissed her pain, both physical and emotional, time and time again. But then, she remembered the brief moment he had stood by the door. The flicker of something in his eyes—concern, perhaps? Or was it guilt?
She wasn’t sure. But in that moment, the only thing she knew for certain was that she had to find a way out of this cycle. A way to reclaim herself, her voice, and her strength.
“I’ll be fine,” Quinn said, her voice firmer now, as she met Juliet’s gaze. “Thank you for being here.”
Juliet smiled softly, her expression filled with quiet understanding. “You don’t have to thank me. You’re not alone anymore, Quinn.”
And for the first time in a long while, Quinn felt a flicker of hope amidst the pain.
