Title: The Songs of Quinn Fabray
Author: GleeLover77
Characters: Quinn. Not every fic will be told from her POV, but they'll all center on her.
Length: Collection of song fics
Rating: Overall, T or PG-13
Summary: As stated above, this is a collection of song fics centering on Quinn Fabray.
Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or any of its characters. I also do not own any of the songs.
Author's Note: None of the fics are related unless I say so.
Song: "Perfect" by Alanis Morissette
Characters: Told by Quinn, about her parents
Genre: Family/Hurt
Spoilers: Foreshadows Preggers
Rating: K+ or PG
Summary: In the Fabray household, you're only loved if you're perfect.
Disclaimer: I don't own Glee, Quinn, or "Perfect."
A/N: Some words slightly modified to fit situation. Nothing drastic.
Sometimes is never quite enough.
If you're flawless, then you'll win our love.
Don't forget to win first place.
Don't forget to keep that smile on your face.
I can't afford to not be perfect, not even for a second. Sometimes perfect isn't enough for Russell and Judy Fabray. If I'm flawless, then their love is won for the time being; if I'm not, I'm nothing to them.
Flawless, as defined by my dad: 4.0 GPA, Head Cheerio, president of Celibacy Club, quarterback boyfriend, swarms of friends, always winning first place.
Flawed: Anything less.
There is, of course, one last element crucial to perfection. I cannot forget to smile constantly, for no good reason. But they don't need to know I don't smile anymore when I'm not with them. They won't be smiling at me much longer, either.
Be a good girl.
Try a little harder.
You've got to measure up
And make us prouder.
I must be the consummate good girl. I must say no to everything that is not good and Christian. As far as they know, this rule I have never broken. If only that were really true.
I have to try harder at everything, even if the effort I'm already giving is enough. "Relax" is a word that isn't even in the Fabray family vocabulary.
My parents have standards I must measure up to. I must walk the path of my sister, who never wavered from perfect. At least, that's what they think. They don't know what I know.
Even when people say how proud my parents must be of me, I have to keep working to make them even prouder. No amount of pride they can have is enough.
But I might as well stop trying now. In a little while, they won't have any pride in me. And nothing will change that.
How long before I screw it up?
How many times do they have to tell me to hurry up?
With everything I do for them,
The least they can do is keep quiet.
I used to lie awake at night, wondering how long it would be before I screwed up my act of perfection permanently. (Yes, it is an act. I'm not stupid enough to think it isn't). I would always guess it would be ten, fifteen, twenty years before something happened. I never imagined that time would come within months.
Now I wonder how many times they will have to tell me to hurry up before they catch on. That my life is over, before it's really even started. They probably won't notice until it's undeniable.
I also wonder if everything I have given for them will be enough to let them overlook this one mistake. Maybe they will keep quiet, and love me all the same. Maybe.
They won't.
Be a good girl.
You've gotta try a little harder.
That simply wasn't good enough
To make us proud.
"Be a good girl." I hear these words everyday before I go to school, and now I'm so fucking tired of them. Before it was just irritating. Of course I would be a good girl. Until I wasn't.
"You've gotta try a little harder." I would hear this when I got a B, or when I felt too tired to go to Cheerios practice, or when I came in second at anything.
"That simply wasn't good enough." This almost always follows the sentiment that I need to try harder.
Of course, the "To make us proud" is always implied.
I'll live through you.
I'll make you what I never was.
If you're the best, then maybe so am I.
Compared to him, compared to her…
I'm doing this for your own damn good.
You'll make up for what they blew.
What's the problem...why are you crying?
It's taking me years to realize that my parents are living through me. I have become so good at lying that I can also recognize one with the ease I used to be able to do a back handspring with. Their own teenage lives were miserable. So they made my sister what they never were, and they are determined to do the same with me.
If we are the best, then so are they.
When compared to him, when compared to her, the Fabrays blow them out of the water. Doesn't matter who it is. But only for a little while longer.
I know they say they're doing this for my own good. But words don't mean anything. I'm making up for what they blew.
I think they know that I know that they are using me now. If that's true, they won't ever tell me that, though.
I also think they know something is up with me.
Just the other day, my mother asked me, "What's the problem?" after giving me the latest instructions on how to be better. I suppose she noticed the spaced out look on my face.
My father found me crying later that night. He asked, "Why are you crying?" In that moment, I almost told him.
Before I could say anything, he said, "Fabrays don't cry."
Right. So I stopped.
Be a good girl.
Push a little farther now.
That wasn't fast enough
To make us happy
"Be a good girl." I hear that every time I leave the house now.
"Push a little farther now." This is what my father tells me every time I complete something.
"That wasn't fast enough." He tells me this when I push that little bit farther. In my head, I complete his thought. To make us happy.
We love you just the way you are.
If you're perfect.
When I finally sit them down to tell them, my mom tells me "We love you just the way you are."
Sure.
My father doesn't say anything, but in his eyes I see what was left unsaid.
"If you're perfect."
I'm not.
They aren't either.
But will that matter?
No.
That's why I have already packed my bags.
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