Trapped in the Dark

A/N: Revised to flow together in three parts. Grammar and bad wording fixed (to my best abilities). Italics intended for metaphor/feelings/thoughts/past event.

Warnings for sensitive topics, and language.

Enjoy!

Part 1 "The Metaphor"

Rachel I

"Do you ever feel like you're trapped in a dark room, and no matter how hard you try, you can't find the light switch?" Judging from Finn's evident confusion, I guess that he hadn't.

Then he gives me a hesitant smile. God, if he thought I was sort of weird before, he must think I'm a complete lunatic now. "You mean when we got trapped in the black box a couple weeks ago, because some idiot thought it would be fun to turn off the light."

It happened unexpectantly. I thought it'd only be a few moments, a dark moment and nothing more.

But then it was black, and I couldn't find the door, and I couldn't find the light.

So I searched for the light, but as I looked, I went deeper and deeper into the darkness and further away from the light. It became darker as I searched, I could no longer see the outline of my shoes or finger tips. I was so afraid, so terribly frightened. You know you're in a dark place when you can't even see yourself.

I tried to pretend everything was fine, so I kept laughing. I thought if I faked it enough, my amusement would become real, but it only made it worse. Because the room was so dark that even though nobody could see my tears, the only way to keep my sobs quiet was by laughing. They all must have thought I was so weird.

"Yeah," I smile back, "That was funny."

"Uh-huh," He scratches his nose, "I didn't like it."

"You didn't?" I look at him. He didn't seem too messed up about it.

"Well, no. I hated not being able to see where I was going. It got so frustrating."

I nod my head, realizing that he isn't getting it. I never expected him too. After all, he's Finn. But I wonder if he could, would he care? Still, I elaborate, some part of me pushing to share. "Yeah, I know what you mean. But I guess that it got to the point where I didn't care where I was going. It didn't matter."

There's an awkward moment before he erupts into a dissatisfied look of worry, "Rachel, is there something you're trying to tell me."

"No," I whisper before overshadowing it in my mind with a definite Yes!

"Okay…" he waits a little bit, "This sounds like one of your metaphors. Like the gold stars."

"Yes," I give Finn a dainty smile, "It's a metaphor, but, just, forget about it."

"You're freaking me out."

"What?" I shrug my shoulders, the emptiness filling up inside of me.

He showers my body with analytical stares, pausing at my eyes to pull out all the emotions, but he fails. "You're not acting like yourself Rachel. And it's not just now. I'm worried about you."

This shocks me, Finn's intuitiveness. The darkness beckons me back, and I shut down.

As I went further into the unknown of the black, I couldn't find Finn. I couldn't find anyone. In the search, I'd pulled away from the group, and without their guidance I fell deeper and deeper into the abyss. "I'm sorry Finn, just forget I ever said anything."

"Rachel…"

"Forget it!"

Rachel II

Finn doesn't forget about our awkward conversation, and, once again, I've made a big mistake. Like always, I've messed up, done something wrong in a world where I can never do anything right.

I try to evade his persistence, his overwhelming curiosity and kindness. "Come on, Rachel," he whispers into my ear, "Tell me what's wrong."

But he's with Quinn, and that means he's not mine to tell. I can't make him care or listen. I won't let him risk it all just so that I can let him know what a trainwreck I am. Not when his happines could be jeapordized. "Forget about it."

But he's stubborn and all to sympathetic. He ignores Quinn's evil glares and nasty smacks to lean over everyday and inquire about my well-being in an all too suspicious voice.

Still she gets her way, pulls him away when I need him the most. I shouldn't care. I should be used to this. But now I'm stuck in the darkness alone.

The glee club started calling out for each other. 'Finn' I whispered, but it was overshadowed by Quinn's shrill. He went to her, and suddenly the darkness seemed real.

He continues to pester, and it takes him about a week before his efforts turn into his success, all to my dismay. He walks up to my locker one day with a big fat look of concern and pity plastered on his face. "Last night I went on this site called yahoo answers. Did you know you can just ask questions on the internet and people will answer them?

"Cool," I mumble trying to ignore him as I grab the world history textbook. He's too oblivious, so naive. I roll my eyes and slam my locker shut, my body glumly turning to the direction of my next destination. "Wait," his hand reaches out for my arm, and as I try to pull away I realize that his grip is abnormally strong. "We need to talk somewhere. It's important."

"I have to get to class," I snap at him, "Besides I couldn't care less about how you're going to cheat on you're homework."

Bewildered and genuinely hurt at my dwindling temperament, his hand falls. For a moment, I think he's speechless from shock, but then he says it. Five words "I figured out your metaphor."

"What?" I choke back.

"You're depressed," he says calmly.

"No... No... No..." I back away, "I'm not."

Finn squirms from the idea of premeditated tears. "Rach, let's talk somewhere else."

"No."

It's so dark now, and suddenly the group realizes I'm all alone as everyone else begins to join together to find the light. My facade of a laugh begins to subside to my genuine distraught and worry. I'm immersed in the darkness, and I'm terrified of everything. For a moment, I think nobody cares, but I want them to. I want somebody to hug and comfort me because I'm starting to get worried. How long will this last? But when Finn starts calling for me, I recoil back onto the floor. I don't want any help; I'm afraid of making the situation worse. So I stay on the ground alone. I'm safer that way, I think.

"Then what were you actually trying to say?"

"Nothing," I huff, irratated, "Absolutely nothing; I was just really sad and fustrated that day. I didn't know what I was talking about."

"Yahoo answer says..."

But I ignore him. "They're wrong. You're wrong. Now just forget it."

"Here," he shoves some papers at me. I glance to see a pile of printed out web md information about depression and brochures, "Look at it."

"Whatever," I say. His triumph is apparent, and, as an act out of definace and embarrassment, I trash the papers as soon as I pass the first trashcan.

Rachel III

Let me turn on the light.

My heart flutters when I read his text. Finn's never been one for poetry, as his confusion over my metaphor displayed. But he'll play along to cheer up poor old me. He's so sweet, so kind, too kind.

I can't stand the pity. He shouldn't care; he shouldn't know. But now he does and it's my entire fault. A pang of guilt thrusts through my body. Will I ever be enough? Can't I just get it right?

I lay my head back into my pillow. I should respond, but I don't. A few minutes another buzz… Ignore it. I'm too tired, too empty to care. I want to, but I can't. I need to stop pushing him away. I imagine asking for his help, but I won't. I don't. I can't. I won't.

Bzzz. Bzzz. Br-br-br-bring. Br-br-br-bring. No answering the phone or responding to texts for Rachel Berry. I don't have the energy, the motivation.

The light is off… gone. It's dark, but I've been trapped here too long so I just give up. There is no point in doing anything when I'll always be trapped in the dark.

I was waiting for the light to turn on by themselves. I wasn't ready to get out of the darkness. I had gotten used to it.

I think about Finn, how amazing he is. Good grades, excellent football player, amazing personality, and extraordinary voice. He's blessed. And it doesn't hurt that he's cute and popular as well. But that's not what does it for me; it's his heart. He's a born leader with morals and talents that I'd pray for. He cares about people, even me.

Then I think about me, how awful I am. Okay academics, slushie-prone gleek, abrasive, conceited, and decent vocals. I'll try to forget my big NOSE, and how I'm universally hated. We'll be honest, I'm not always the kindest soul and often step on peoples toes to get to the top. What did he ever see in me?

Bzzz. Bzzz. My phone summons attention, but it is ignored.

I decide that I deserve my darkness and a life time of loneliness.

I do nothing.

I feel nothing.

I am nothing.

Knock on the door.

No response.

"Rachel?" Daddy's voice fills the air

No response. I don't have enough energy to talk, that's how pathetic I am. Because nowadays everything's a chore. I can't even talk. I can't even sing.

"Honey, are you okay?"

"Yeah Daddy," I try to add the energy, the facade of happiness, back into my voice.

"Can I come in?" I turn on the light. I don't want Daddy to know I'm in the dark. And some part of me doesn't want him to turn it on.

"Of course," I give him a big cheery smile as he opens the door.

"Your father and I are going to New York this weekend," he says, "Do you want to go? We can see Wicked?"

I look up at him. I should want to do this; I should be thrilled. I love Wicked; I love New York; I even love spending time with my dad's. But I feel nothing, like I'm numb. Like I'm trapped in the dark.

"No," I shake my head, "School's been really busy. Next time."

"But Rachel…" He begins, and, after one look at my dead eyes, he gives up.

"Sorry." I mumble, guilt overwhelming me. The thought of agreeing to go crosses my mind, but I don't want to open my mouth again.

"It's fine, sweetie," he shifts his weight uncomfortably, puzzled as to what has become of me, his darling little girl. You can't see me; it's too dark.

I hear my phone, begging to be answered. I see my dad, begging for his daughter to return to normalcy. And I feel the emptiness of my heart begging for the end.

"Shouldn't you answer that Rach?" he asks. No point in arguing, or shrugging it off. I don't want my dad to get any more suspicious than he already is.

So my hands move on to press the little green answer button. Caller ID: Finn Hudson.

"Rachel!" Finn sounds ecstatic that I answer the phone. He shouldn't be; he shouldn't want to talk to me.

"Hey Finn," I say with far less enthusiasm, "So why were you trying to get a hold of me?"

"I wanted to make sure you were okay," he said, "Mr. Schu was kind of harsh on you in Glee today."

I gulp. Thinking about the glee coach's words, Rachel stop being so conceited. You're not the only one who can sing. I hadn't even said anything just raised my hand after Quinn preformed the solo she was doing for sectionals. I needed to go to the bathroom, but Mr. Schu always thought the worst of me and jumped to conclusions.

"I'm fine." Complete lie.

"Really?" His voice is calm and sweet, "Because you didn't look fine when you ran off."

"I was just being dramatic."

"Rach…"

"Don't worry about it, Finn. I'm fine." He knows I'm not just talking about the incident but about life. The words 'don't worry about me' don't quite make it out of my throat, but they run through my head like a pride of lions, aggressive and unnerving.

"I know that's not true."

"Is this all, Finn? Because I don't want to waste my minutes." I mentally scold myself for my rudeness.

"No, I wanted to know if you could meet me at Breadsticks to talk." He rushes out his request, too eager and nervous to keep it in any longer.

I take in a breath, the 'no' moving to my lips. From the way he sputtered out his request, I can tell he predicts my answer. Nobody asks to hang out anymore because they know that I'll make up some phony excuse. "Sorry, Finn."

"Please, Rach."

So I agree, how could I not when he begins to practically beg me. "I'll use blackmail if you don't come," he eventually jokes, but I wonder if there is some truth to his threat.

As I go downstairs and jump in my car, I notice my dads' beaming at me from the kitchen window. I haven't exactly been a social butterfly lately, but then again I never have been. And now they're thrilled to get rid of me.

Rachel IV

I see him waiting at a booth with Puck and Kurt. As soon as the revelation dawns on me, I take a step back, wanting to leave. I need to escape this torment. I just can't handle people anymore. Puck, the boy whose douced me with slushies, and Kurt, the diva who always disses my clothes and steals my solos. I could get along with both of them at times, but right now I couldn't deal with more than one set of painful memories.

But it's too late to escape because Finn sees me and waves me over.

"The ice queen didn't want him with you alone," Puck explains when he sees my confused face, "So you'll have to share Finnocence with Kurt and my Bad Assness."

"Whatever," I sit down in the empty seat next to Finn. This could be good, since I suspected Finn had wanted to talk about my depression, and he couldn't do that with Kurt and Puck present. But apparently I was wrong.

The beautiful redheaded waitress comes up and flirts with Finn and Puck a little as we order are drinks. It disgusts me how shamelessly she throws herself at them and how naturally they flirt back when they both have girlfriends. Kurt and I share accomplice-status smirks. Awkward.

"So we think you need to start seeing Ms. Pillsbury," Finn shoots out as soon as the whore leaves to go grab our sodas. My heart beats, as my eyes dart to Kurt and Puck and, then, back to Finn. "They already know."

My stomach squirms and my cheeks burn a deep crimson color from embarrassment. "You told them?"

"Yeah…"

My knees buckle up and for a moment I can't move. I grit my teeth and in an all too aggressive manner I ask him: "Who else did you tell?"

Finn looks nervous as the smoke practically shoots out from my ears; I've turned into a fire breathing dragon. Rage overtakes my body, scorching every ounce of self-control I had left. "J-just glee club."

"I hate you," The words spit out before my brain fully processes it, and I dash out of the restaurant. I've pushed him away. I need to be in the dark alone. No company. No help.

"Wait," He grabs my arm, "I'm sorry. I didn't know it would be a big deal. Glee club's a family; we're there to support each other."

"A family?" I try to hold in my tears, "Are families supposed to slushy each other, call each other names, hurt each other's feelings, and steal each other's boyfriends and girlfriends?"

"Rachel," his eyes look into mine, practically begging me to help him, "We're a team and sometimes we fight, but-"

"But what?" I look into his big dopey eyes, "Finn, I really care about you, and I think you care about me too. But for the rest of that club, this is just another opportunity for them to torment me further."

"They wouldn't do that."

"Yes they will," I say, "And this is why I didn't tell you."

"But you did? You told me that metaphor thingy."

"I didn't think you'd figure it out."

"Why not?"

"Because you're oblivious."

"Wait what does that mean?" Finn stops and I look up at his dopey eyes.

"It means that you need to forget about this; or you'll do more harm than good."

Finn I

It means you need to forget about this, or you'll do more harm than good.

Like a guy can just forget that his ex-girlfriend is depressed, and it's probably because of him. Quinn keeps telling me I should forget about it too. She tells me that I shouldn't care, but I do. I really like Rachel, I always have. We may not be going out, but that doesn't mean you just stop caring, right?

But Rachel may have point. I'm obviously not an expert at dealing with this. Every effort I've made in making her better has backfired. Maybe I should just pass off the baton to someone else, like Mr. Schue or Mrs. Pillsbury.

Except that Mrs. Pillsbury isn't always the best guidance counselor, and Mr. Schue isn't exactly Rachel's number one fan. Mrs. Holiday is unreliable and wouldn't take the issue seriously. Coach Beiste isn't nearly close enough with Rachel. Shelby would bring more pain than help. And I wouldn't even bother mom or Burt; they'd just pass it on to Mrs. Pillsbury or give me a talk and a hug.

So, that's how I end up sitting with both Mr. Berry's in their living room, while Rachel's away at dance class. It's difficult and, frankly, awkward to tell the two men my concerns about their daughter.

But the Berry's are nice about it. "We know," Leroy says softly. He's a nice guy and is the mild mannered one of the two. But he's clearly distraught and frustrated about what to do. "We've suspected it for a while now."

"We were hoping it was just a phrase," Hiram cuts in right after. I'm pretty sure he's afraid that I'm going to judge them as bad parents, or something like that. And he has reason to. People in this town are pretty nasty about their situation. 'Two gay dads shouldn't be fathers', 'they shouldn't push Rachel so much', 'they spoil her' and, the one I sometimes catch myself thinking 'it's irresponsible to leave your kid home so much.' Yes, I've heard all sorts of nonsense and advice from people who know nothing about their situation, and frankly it annoys me.

But as I stare at the two men, who despite my being Rachel's boyfriend at one point, I have only seen four times, I wonder if I'm judging them. Shouldn't they have realized that it wasn't just a phase a long time ago? Shouldn't they have done something by now? I want them to do something, I want them to know there is a real problem. "It's not a phase. She doesn't even sing in Glee anymore. She just sways in the background."

At this point, both of her dads appear visibly more worried. Their star in the background—Impossible!

"Finn," Leroy says, "We have a favor to ask you."

"What is it?" I can feel my heart beat a little faster, curious as to what it could possibly be.

"We do?" Hiram looks at Leroy and then me, clearly unaware of the favor, as well.

"Yes, we do. We're going out of town this weekend to New York. Could you maybe keep an eye out for her?"

"Sure, Mr. Berry," I give him a sad smile, wondering how trying to relinquish some of my responsibility landed me with more. But I guess it's whatever it takes to get Rachel better. Because I love her. Wait. No. No, I can't. I don't. I'm with Quinn. I don't love Rachel. I don't, or do I?

Finn II

When I get home, Kurt bombards me with questions. He's almost as worried about Rachel as I am. "What did they say? What are they planning on doing?"

"They're going to New York this weekend."

He flashes me a smile, "She'll love that. Broadway's the perfect way to cheer her up."

"It would be if she were going," I turn on the TV, so I don't have to talk about this anymore, but he doesn't get the message.

"Finn Hudson, what do you mean she's not going with them," He breathes, "You will not tell me they're leaving her alone when she's on the verge of a virgin suicide."

My body stiffens when he says that. 'Suicide'. Rachel wouldn't kill herself; she's just upset. She's smarter than that. She wouldn't do that to me, to any of us. I ignore Kurt's curiosity, and guide my feet back outside to my car. I need to see Rachel because now I'm paranoid.

Finn III

I catch a glimpse of her brunette hair before it disappears into her car. I start to trail behind her, with just a silver Ford in between us. Maybe, it's wrong to semi-stalk her, but she was the one who taught me how to stake out in the first place.

I try to calm down. Rachel's fine. She's not stupid. She won't commit suicide. Then why am I following her?

I'm doing it just in case there's a chance. And I know if I'm worried a little, I should tell Miss. Pillsbury or something, to make sure she's completely safe. But I told her dads, and the whole glee club knows, and nobody's had her committed, so it should be okay.

Then my cellphone rings, and Quinn's face shows up on my cell. I laugh gently realizing, I still haven't gotten around to changing her ringtone to something other than the wicked witch music from the Wizard of Oz. Yikes! She'd kill me if she found out.

"Hey!" I say as soon as I pick up, but as soon as the word falls from my mouth I hear a muffle of yelling and sobs. Great, crazy Quinn! What did I do wrong now? "Wait, Quinn. I can't understand you."

"I know that you went to Man Hand's house!" she cries, "I saw you!"

"I'm sorry," I roll my eyes, "I had to tell her dad's about her… problem."

"God Finn!" I hear her voice turn into lecturing mode, "What did I tell you about forgetting about her? She's doing this for your attention. The more you try to 'comfort' her, the more you're encouraging her to keep holding on to her crazy school girl fantasy that you and her will be together forever."

"That's not true," my throat clenches as I turn the corner behind Rachel. I know that we're not headed in the direction of her house, so where is she going? "She's in a really dark place, right now?"

"She's not over you."

"She is."

"Fine, maybe you're right. Maybe she's finally done with that, but the question is are you?"

"I'm with you" I say hesitantly, but then Rachel pulls into a parking space and my mind turns to different matters. "Hey I gotta go. Bye."

"Finn, you better not hang up on me!" Beep.

My eyes pop open when I see Rachel get out of her car, storming towards me. Apparently, I hadn't been nearly as stealthy as I thought I'd been. I open my door, only to hear her yell a scolding "Stop following me, Finn Hudson."

Before I can deny the truthful accusation, she's already backing I her car, driving off like a maniac.

I sigh, realizing my accomplishments for the day. Piss off Kurt, check! Piss of Quinn, check! Piss off Rachel, check! Now, if I could only be nearly as successful with my attempts to make Rachel better.