Quinn's sad. She feels empty and lonely and she knows it won't leave, at least not for a long time. She tries to smile; she tries to show everyone that she's the ever so resilient Quinn Fabray, that she's not afraid, she's not weak. But they don't know. She sits in glee club and listens to Rachel talk excitedly about Nationals.
"We need to start writing those songs, fellow glee clubbers!" Rachel exclaims. Quinn wants to punch her. Not out of annoyance or anger, but of hope. She wants someone like Rachel. Or Tina. Or Mercedes or anybody.
Finn agrees with a determined smile. "Rachel's right, you guys."
Rachel's always right. And Finn's always there to prove it.
Glee club used to make her happy, now she resents it. It adds to the humiliation that is her loneliness. She doesn't know why it aches everywhere but she just wants it stop. She feels weak, isolated. Quinn had the Cheerios, they were gone. She had Finn and Puck, they were gone. She had Beth, she was gone. But even when she was with those people, part of those people, one, she still felt lonely. They broke her. They stole her happiness.
No one knows. Glee club doesn't know. Her mother doesn't know. But Quinn cries in her bed every night, staining that pink frilly pillow. She sobs and whimpers and sometimes it gets so bad she throws up. Then she'll look in the mirror, see her tears, her red eyes, the messy her, and she'll hate herself even more. It's worse now. She does it so often that it seems natural, routine like.
The angelic faced girl thinks about all that's hurt her. Her mind is racing, overwhelming, and Rachel's voice is beginning to sound distant and fuzzy and she can't help but fall into the trap. She doesn't want to; she doesn't want to be caught in the daze of flashbacks that broke her already tender heart. But it comes, it hits her, and it hurts.
The Cheerios were not as fulfilling as she thought they would be. Quinn thought they were perfect, all that was good: it seemed appropriate, like it was needed. She was thin and blonde and flexible - it was fate. But the Cheerios weren't what she expected. She wanted to feel part of something; she wanted to be part of a team, with people who would have some cliché life changing high school experience that would make them different people. Did that happen? No. She didn't really have anyone there. Santana and Brittany were always together, they held hands and smiled at each other and had inside jokes – and Quinn wanted that. She just wanted a best friend who would listen to her. Just because she worse a uniform didn't mean that she was one. The red and white meant nothing. The rise of the Cheerios lasted less than day. After that hype, she was devastated. She put all her faith in cheerleaders and a sadistic coach. They'd part for her, the kids in the hallway. They'd move quicker than a bullet through the sky but Quinn didn't like it. She wished at least one of them would stay by her side.
Finn was perfect. Finn was... Finn was her own. The blonde had someone who would make her smile and hold her hand in the hallway. He was cute. He was sweet. He wasn't smart but he treated her well and that was all that mattered. They were meant to be, they were supposed to be, but even when Quinn has something that is hers, it's taken away. Rachel Berry - the oh so perfect note hitting brunette who stole everything from her. Rachel wasn't supposed to be a threat: she was short and obnoxious and dressed like her cousin who was eight, so Finn couldn't have wanted her. But no, Quinn would be disappointed again. She always was and it was starting to become a habit. Quinn wasn't pissed at Finn for choosing glee club over. Hell, he could sing and dance all he wanted, she didn't care. But Rachel was in glee club. And Rachel was what Finn Hudson wanted.
When Quinn was kicked out of her home, she felt relief, but then reality seeped in and the girl wasn't ready for it. She cried, and she hoped it would work, that it would convince her parents to let her stay, but it failed. Her father drank and drank and her mother sat and watched. Quinn needed out. They didn't love her. No one loved her. Her father's eyes had met hers in such a way that it felt surreal: he glared, his eyes were flaming, and Quinn's tiny legs shook so horribly she thought she'd faint. She wanted to cry out. "But daddy, I'm your daughter! It's me, it's Quinn - I love you, please!" She was screaming, aching to rid of the words, but the response from her daddy would break her, and her heart was already far too sore for anything that would hurt. Her mother was quiet and stared at her for a few minutes, and then looked down at the expensive carpet. When they locked eyes it was awkward, like meeting eyes with a stranger. It wasn't right. Quinn wanted her mummy. She didn't want to be one.
Quinn didn't want Beth to be with anyone else. She was inside of her, Quinn made her, gave her a heart and a soul and those lovely eyes that shined when they first made eye contact. She was so small, so fragile, thin as paper and weak as tissue. But Beth was hers. Beth was Quinn's and Puck's and they could be happy. They could make it work. Quinn was going to teach and Puck was going to have the best pool cleaning business the world had seen. But then they took her away, they stole Beth from Quinn's arms and it scared her. She wanted to call out for the nurse or doctor or anyone, somebody; she needed somebody to take it all away. Part of Quinn was gone. That hole was Puck's, that hole was Beth's, that hole still remained.
Quinn just wants to be happy. She wants someone, anyone, even Rachel, to make her feel better. They all have someone. Glee club is meant for losers, created for them so they have a home - yet they've all made it, located that sense of comfort and warmth Quinn craves for. Sometimes Quinn just wants to hug someone. She simply wants to feel someone's arms around her, letting her rest her head on their shoulder. She wants to find them, she prays to God every night for them, but even he doesn't help her despite the dedication she's given him over the years.
She cuts her hair in New York. Quinn feels better, like she breathe. The months have washed away with the ridding of her golden locks. She feels free, like she can fly. She doesn't know why, but she feels like the burden is gone for a moment when she knows she'll be on stage in a minute.
But then they kiss. They kiss so hard that Quinn can feel it. Finn never kissed her like that. Puck never did, nor did Sam. The burden is back. The feeling is back. The tears are threatening to fall but Quinn holds on until they can fall freely that night, like every night.