*Inspired by the song "Like A Prayer" from the episode "The Power of Madonna". Just thought it fit Quinn/Puck for some reason!*
I hear your voice, it's like an angel sighing. I have no choice, I hear your voice, feels like flying.
All throughout my life, I had been known as an angel. One year, I had even been cast as one in a Christmas play at our church. I was perfect, saintly Quinn Fabray. At home, I never spoke out against my parents and I was the perfect daughter. They would dress me up for parties they attended and I would stand next to them, a smile plastered on my face, as they boasted and bragged about my newest accomplishments. Everything I did at home, I did to please them.
School was the only place where I could really voice my own thoughts. And voice them I did.
In high school, I ruled the hallways with terror, mainly because I could. I had been made head cheerleader my sophmore year and it gave me free reign to do whatever I liked. If I told someone to throw a slushie at Rachel Berry, someone would do it, or risk having one thrown on them. I could talk out and say whatever I wanted to people because who was there to stop me? Not to say people still didn't call me an angel at school though, because they did. I started the celibacy club at WMHS my freshman year and wore a small silver cross around my neck openly showing everyone that I was a proud Christian. I didn't drink or smoke, nor swear. Not very common for a high schooler nowadays.
I remember the exact time when I felt I no longer deserved the title of "angel". It was a Monday and I was pretty tired and stressed after a long weekend. My parents just didn't understand me. So what if I wanted to go to Santana's party? They should have been happy that I had plans on a Saturday night, but no. They were worried I'd be "too tired" to go to church the next morning. Instead of wasting my time arguing with the King and Queen, I spent my Saturday night alone in my bedroom eating ice cream and feeling sorry for myself.
I came to school Monday crabby and tired. Cheerios practice was terrible. We had weigh-ins that day and I had gained 3 pounds, according to Coach Slyvester's scale. She had screamed at me that I was "fatter than an elephant" and "should have been ashamed" to even show my face at practice. I had put on a strong face till after practice when I broke down and started crying in my car.
I distinctly remember there had been a slight knock on my window, and then he opened the door and sat in my passenger seat. He was carrying a 6-pack of wine coolers and wearing a devilish grin.
"Sup Fabray?" Noah Puckerman said to me.
"N-Nothing" I sniffed, ashamed I was crying. I had made it up in my mind that I was going on a seriously strict diet of apples and water for the next month. Anything to show Sue that she was wrong about me.
"Doesn't looking like nothing" he said, popping open one of the wine coolers and taking a hardy gulp. "Oh, how impolite of me" he said tauntingly, offering me a sip.
Normally I would have told him that it was a sin to break the law, or better yet, slapped the bottle out of his hand, but since it was today, I just grabbed the bottle from him and downed the rest.
"Woah Fabray, cool it. We still have 5 left."
I laughed along as we shared the remaining drinks, not thinking at all about what I was doing. I was caught up in the moment and the moment was a lot of fun. I remember he had grabbed my face and kissed me, full-on, until I realized that I wasn't shoving him away, but kissing him back.
"Quinn" he said in between gasps of air, "I want you."
"Don't talk" I said, too drunk to recognize my own name. "Please."
He paused for a slight moment, as if he were actually considering my feeings and my morals, but instead he just shrugged it off, going right back to where he had left off.
People still call me a perfect angel, but I don't agree with them. In my eyes, I've fallen from my perch in Heaven. Every night since I found out that I was pregnant, I prayed by my bedside, begging God to forgive me of my sins. Though I believe that He forgave me, that doesn't necessarily mean I can forgive myself.
I close my eyes. Oh God, I think I'm falling; out of the sky, I close my eyes. Heaven help me.
*Definitely not my best work, and I'm not too thrilled with it, but at least I tried. (:*
Reviews would make me extremely happy!
Note: I know wine coolers have like no alcohol in them, but assuming Quinn has never drank (drunken?) before I'd assume she'd get a little tipsy.