A.N.
This is the first fanfiction I've ever written. The idea came to me during my English exam, and originally I had an anonymous woman narrating, however I then edited and added a few bits here and there to make it more Rachel Berry-esque.
Hopefully, it's worked out okay! I love reviews, but honestly, I'm just hoping for readers in the first place, so I'm not too bothered if you don't review.
Anyway! For anybody who is reading this: Thankyou, from the bottom of my heart. I simply cannot express my gratitude enough. =)

I hope you enjoy the story!

xox Eleanor Lyon.

Rachel clutched at the moth-eaten shawl covering her too-thin frame as the wind gusted through the over crowded streets of New York City. The grey clouds which were settled high above the skyscrapers reflected the mood of those dwelling below and was but a fore-shadowing of the harsh winter inevitably approaching. Rachel sighed heavily as she lowered herself to the edge of the pavement. Her breath crystallised before her eyes as she did so.

It was her first year living out on the streets of NYC. Of course, she had never expected this to be her. Dreams which had once seemed tangible had all but crumbled like ash falling from a cigarette. Like so many others, she had come to New York seeking the thrill of the stage. An auditorium packed full of adoring fans and potential admirers. Bouquets of roses waiting for her after each show. Offer upon offer from agents and producers wanting, no, yearning for talent that only she, Rachel Berry, could deliver.

Broadway! The name which called to Rachel's heart of hearts. If there was anyone who could have broken into the business, she was determined that it would be her. She was Rachel Berry, the shining star of Lima, Ohio. Her peers had always told her she was destined for the stage and she had believed so as well. It seemed like as much of a fact as the sun rising in the east and setting in the west. That was back in Lima though. Finn had been right all along, they were only Lima, Ohio good. She had been a fool to believe in the hyperbole that surrounded New York. She was too rash, too confident in her own abilities. She had not taken into account all of those who had the same vision, but were more competitive and talented than herself. Because, let's be truthful, who could possibly have been more talented than her? Well, it turned out they could.

They had finesse, poise, precision. Every action, every word, every gesture held a depth and meaning that she could not manage to evoke. Rachel had been unprepared and naïve. She couldn't tap-dance, she couldn't do high kicks and flips. How had she thought that she would have been snapped up for a role in the first few months? How did she let herself believe that the judges would hire her immediately? She was so lost in her dreams of ambition that she had overlooked the finer details. Yet again she had forgotten to account for the consequences of her impetuous decisions…

Palms sweating, knees quivering, Rachel had shakily made her way up to the small stage and faced her critics. The spotlight shone down, blindingly bright. Why was she so nervous? She thrived off the spotlight! The accompaniment began, the notes of the piano echoing in the vast expanse of the theatre. The cue struck… And nothing. No sound came forth from her vocal cords.
No, she thought, No, no, no! This could not be happening to her right now! She needed this! The critics waited, shifting impatiently in their seats.
They had viewed her credentials; nothing more than her lead role as Maria in McKinley High's musical of West Side Story, a few other community musicals and a referral letter from a source not renowned enough to have any substantial credit or influence on these men.

After all, this was Broadway. Not a stage in Lima. Here they settled for nothing less than the best. And Rachel could not possibly cope if they told her that she did not belong here. All her life she had craved to belong here. She had sacrificed everything for this; her meagre life savings and college fund, her relationship with Finn which had crashed and burned after she had pushed him too far, her friendship with Kurt who had stayed in Lima to help coach New Directions and earn money for his fashion design course as a barista at the Lima Bean, the chance of returning home to her Dads because she did not have enough funds for the trip home, and her chances of getting into NYADA since she no longer had enough money to pay for tuition. She could not afford to be shut down right now. She needed this like she needed air to breathe!
But the judges didn't know that. How could they? And even if they did, they wouldn't have cared… She should have expected their reaction. But she was naïve; she still believed the best in people.

"Enough!" one of the critics – a completely bald middle aged man in black framed glasses - had shouted after her third attempt at "I Feel Pretty".
"Honey, listen. You need to know this. You're no longer in your little house on the Prairie. This is the real world." His voice was condescending and laced with boredom, "You can't just waltz into a Broadway audition with shoddy credentials and references, then screw over one of the most basic musical songs created. You understand?"
He paused. Rachel nodded.
"Don't expect us to hire you, when all you have going for you is that you look like a younger version of Barbra Streisand and got a main role once or twice in a community theatre production. None of that means shit here, sweetheart. Here, in New York, you're nothing. Nada. Zilch. Zero. Not until you prove yourself. You understand?"

Another pause. Another nod.

"Good." He sighed, "Now next time, remember where you are. And get the hell off my stage before I call pest control to get rid of you instead."

And that was that. There was nothing more to say. She took her sheet music and slowly made her way out of the spotlight's glare.

That's what she got for being a pipe dreamer. An unfair dismissal when all she needed was to be given a chance. But here you don't get second chances. It's a dog-eat-dog world in show business. And choosing to be the nice guy, well, that just didn't work in your favour. No matter what happened, she would be shot down. And as unfair as it was, no one else cared. To them there were worse things to worry about than some washed-up no-hoper. Even though all of their judgements weren't true, it didn't matter. It just happened.

So here she was, wallowing in the filth of New York… Never to be seen on the bill-boards in Time square. Never to have "RACHEL BERRY" lit up by lights…Her dreams were over.

Rachel shivered again, but this time there was no wind. Only the sense of pure isolation.