Love Unspoken

Quinn hesitated, her hands moving in a flurry of desperate gestures. "I won't see Juliet anymore, don't hurt her," she signed, her eyes pleading. Alexander's lips were a tight line, his gaze intense and unyielding. He said nothing, his silence hanging heavy in the air between them.

She continued, her hands shaping the words in the air. "She's quite old, doesn't have much time left, she's pitiful. Think of it as a kindness for how she once took care of you, take pity on her."

Whether he saw her sign language or not was unclear. His eyes hadn't darted once to her fingers; they were fixed on her eyes. She was unable to speak, her voice trapped in a body that refused to cooperate. If he chose not to watch her hands, she could never express herself, never communicate with him. His attention was a fickle thing, sometimes attentively watching her sign slowly, other times completely ignoring her. He held the power to cut off communication at any moment. Quinn signed earnestly, her hands moving with a frantic urgency. Yet he continued to just look at her, his gaze never wavering. Her heart began to sink, a heavy stone in her chest. Dropping her hands, she ceased her motions, her hope dwindling.

Then, out of nowhere, Alexander spoke, his voice breaking the silence. "Do you know why I don't want you interacting with those people?" Quinn's eyelids fluttered open, her gaze locking onto his with an unsettling intensity. A question burned through her mind, nearly driving her mad with the need for answers. She wondered why her most basic freedoms and rights had been stripped away, as if she were less than human.

As she waited for his response, she felt his slender fingers trail gently across her cheek. "But I hope you never find out," he murmured, his voice a soft whisper in the quiet room.

A twinge of recognition sparked in Quinn's eyes. That sentiment felt eerily familiar as if Walter had spoken similar words to her before. Walter had said, "If you remembered, you wouldn't need to ask. If you remembered, you wouldn't look at me with those eyes."

same disturbing implications. Quinn's head began to buzz with confusion and half-formed thoughts. What crucial memory

a twisted guessing game they played with her,

with desperation and helplessness, all she could do was silently

the chiseled contours of his body-a tapestry of red marks crisscrossing

no mark, but the traces of her desperate scrabbles spoke volumes of last night's frenzy. Now, Quinn lay almost immobile, depleted of strength

transforming him from

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his wristwatch, he glanced back at her and instructed, "Stay home

in