A/N: Hello. I am TheSilentPen, a writer fairly new to this genre. Basic facts: I'm a fanfiction writer from another genre who wants to start over with a new outlook on life. My last penname, I think ended one chapter of my life. I think this new one will represent a brand new path for me to follow. I hope you enjoy the story, please read and review :)

I Want Her

TheSilentPen

It enrages me that someone could have so much power over my emotions. That someone could actually make me, the Queen Bee of McKinley High, weak at the knees and wanting more.

Boys? They were meant to chase me. To desire everything that I might have as their own. To chase after something that they could never have as I watched them trip and stumble over their tangled lives.

Girls? The losers were meant to envy me. To know that I might snatch their man up at any given time, just for the pleasure of seeing their faces contorted in pain and rage.

I enjoy my reputation as top bitch. The girl who rules the school. The one who can have anyone or anything she wants without even batting an eyelash. That's the way it's meant to be.

It's part of the unwritten code of hierarchy instilled in all High School systems. An unspoken law that every damn person had better adhere to, else the Jocks would beat them back into submission.

Anyone who disrupted the order faced slushie facials for the rest of their High School career.

It was a good incentive for the Lima Losers at the bottom to keep their greasy little noses in place. If you got through school without getting slushied, chances are you had pretty high hopes for the rest of your pathetic life.

You weren't marked as an enemy of society.

Being the Head Cheerio of the feared Sue Sylvester's squad yielded virtually limitless power over the scum of McKinley society.

Anyone who got in my face risked a slushie. Any man who resisted my advances was quickly dispatched into the nearest garbage bin by my friends on the football team.

Yet there was one person who seemed undaunted by my threats. One person who I quickly learned to loathe over all others in school (well… except for that creepy Jacob Ben Israel perv).

Rachel Berry.

The little wannabe Broadway Star who's plagued me for as long as I can remember.

She's a fashion crisis waiting to explode. The girl always wore those damn knee high socks, those shiny brown loafers that I'm sure she stole from Grandma Fabray's closet, and the excessive amounts of argyle/animal knit sweaters she had in her possession.

It was like someone had taken all the ugliest clothes and vomited them onto her every day of the week. Maybe it was the Heavenly Father's divine punishment for that little fidget's obnoxious personality.

Rachel Berry oozes perfectionism. She can't go anywhere without proving that she's better than someone else at something. Can't keep her damn mouth shut unless the conversation is about her. If the conversation ISN'T about her, she might explode.

Rachel Berry is the archetype of an annoyance.

She irks me so thoroughly.

She's the only girl who doesn't flinch when I approach her. Who doesn't fear or envy me as I pass.

She's the only one who has the balls to pursue my man openly without the fear of slushies for the rest of her goddamned High School career.

She's the only one who makes me weak at the knees. Who makes me want to kiss her.

I don't know when… or how it happened, but I found that one day, there was an emotion… a feeling for Rachel Berry that hadn't been there before.

A respect.

A love.

I found myself looking at her tanned countenance. Admiring every shapely curve that adorned a petite, yet lean muscled body.

I found myself melting at every pearly white smile that shone between two pouting, cherry red lips. Lips that begged to be caressed and attended to at various increments of the day.

I wanted… yearned to run my callused fingers through the gentle waves of pure, soft chocolate that cascaded down chiseled, delicate shoulders. I needed to see what those dark, soft brown orbs felt as they looked gently into my own with the same pure adoration that she seems to shower so undeservedly upon my clumsy boyfriend.

Try as I might, I knew what I wanted.

Rachel Berry.

But I can't have her.

Every grain of society says that this is wrong. That what I want and need is an abomination to my faith and to my family.

I'd seen my father condemn this behavior for many years. How he shouted and spat bible verses at those he deemed 'hell-bound.' How he would tell me how ardently he wished God would aid him in striking down the sinners that pervaded the sacred chastity of marriage with their perverse love.

Every fibre of me wants to fight… to punish myself for feeling such unclean, unholy things. For going against years of bible study just for one stupid obsession.

But it feels so right.

I can't fight this... this emotion that draws me to her. That drives me to admire her features… her tenacity…

Her voice.

That sweet, heaven sent sound that pours forth from such a small body in huge droves of unparalleled beauty.

A voice that can be so sweet yet change into something much more raw and sultry within moments.

She is heaven sent.

But… even if I want her. Even if I accepted my situation and felt free to love her without guilt or fear.

I could never have her.

I'm the one who smirks at her. Who has tortured her for so long and cut her to pieces.

I'm the one who knocks her books over and sneers cruel nothings at her.

I'm her enemy.

All the popularity, all the threats in the world couldn't bring us together.

I have to be content as I am now.

Content to touch her in passing. Content to disguise my love as hatred.

But right now… as I look at her, silently from the wings of the theater, pouring her soul in a heartbreaking version of Take a Bow, tears included…

Right now…

All I want is her.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed. I'm working on a bit of a new project as well. A Faberry, of course. Multi-chapter. Reviews are greatly appreciated :)