Creak. Creak Creak. Creak. Creak.
Rachel promised herself she would never sing again.
When she realized what might be about to happen she had used a confident voice to tell him he could stop bothering her or she'd call the police. He had laughed.
She had screamed at the top of her lungs.
"Stop it!"
"Fucking stop! You asshole! Let me go! Let me go!"
She though maybe she was about to die and that scared her, but he shoved her into his car, hitting her head on the door, twisting her wrist on the struggle, burning her knee on the seat, punching her so hard on the face for a second she felt no pain inside of her and it seemed her eye would fall off. She gave up and cried loud while he raped her. He moaned and huffed. He smelled of eucalyptus drops. When he finished, she vomited on the seat and on her hair. He cursed at her, stood up outside of the car, lit a cigarette and told her to get out.
She couldn't move, so he grabbed her and pulled her out of the car. She was weak and fell off the car like a sack of potatoes and stayed there, battered and almost naked on the ground. She was too hurt to move anywhere and decided someone else would take it from there, someone would find her and call the police and someone would take care of her.
But some time passed and the alley seemed more dangerous and she could move her legs again. So she tried to stand up, but all she managed to do was sit up against a filthy wall. There she cried again. The smell of her vomit fused with the smell of the alley and it would make her gag so many times in the following week she would soon acquire a habit of keeping her hair tied, always.
At a certain point, a high pitched, nasal voice sounded behind her and when she realized someone else was about to witness the mess she was, she started crying again. She was crying still when the back door to an establishment opened behind her and the nasal voice stopped shouting for a moment, looking at her, she knew. Then that voice screamed in a language she couldn't understand. It screamed and screamed and it got a response from inside, and all she could hear in between a string of unknown words was "9-1-1".
Rachel Berry isn't mine, she belongs to Fox Network.