Disclaimer: No matter how much I dream, I do not own Glee.
Here's another story for you guys. I know some of you wanted me to continue the last one but this one wrote itself and I hope you enjoy it. There is a possibility I will continue this so you gotta tell me what you think and what you want. :P I'd like to thank everyone who reads this, it means so much to me and I'd also like to thank my beta on this one Gleek1990. She was awesome even though she's mad at me, I'm sure you'll see why. :P Anyway, I'll shut up so you can go read and hopefully enjoy! Thanks! :D
A lot could be said about Rachel Berry; she's annoying, loud mouthed, opinionated, kind of sneaky hot, and many other, more humiliating, things. Although, if asked, most would say she's strong, confident, and carefree, but in reality it was all an act. The girl that walked the halls with her head held high and slush dripping from her chin and into her bra was a carefully constructed character Rachel adapted when her fathers stopped returning from business trips and the insults grew more vicious.
In all honesty, Rachel Berry was an empty shell, a living zombie. There was really only one thing keeping her from giving up completely; that was glee club. But soon even they started turning on her. Constantly putting her down and ignoring her; but when she decided to let go a little and let others have solos that's when the trouble began. They started taking all the solos and eventually they pushed her to the back, claiming that her dancing skills were best displayed on the high rise. Everything was peaceful though and that's all she ever wanted.
All that peace came tumbling down one Wednesday morning when Rachel decided she wants to sing. She hasn't had a solo in over a month and she is feeling emotional, but when she asks permission groans can be heard throughout the room. She looks pleadingly at Mr. Schue. She needs to express herself or she'll explode, but once again he lets her down.
"I'm sorry Rachel, we really should talk about sectionals, maybe tomorrow."
Rachel's heart sinks when Mercedes speaks up, "Or maybe we'll get lucky and she'll loose her voice."
Rachel's cheeks burn and her eyes sting with oncoming tears at the hums of agreement that can be heard. She gets up and sullenly walks to the door with her head hanging down and her hair creating a shield, hiding the tears leaking from her eyes.
As she steps out of the room, three waiting jocks deliver the coup de grace, a triple slushy facial. Now covered in a mixture of slushies, Rachel slowly makes her way to the restroom amongst her laughing peers. When she gets there she makes sure no one is inside before locking herself in the handicap stall. She sits on the floor and pulls out a small notepad and begins to write.
When she's finished she places it on the toilet and pulls a make up bag from her school bag. As she pulls a fresh razor blade from inside the bag she silently prays her fathers know she loves them. They may not love her but she loves them. Slowly guiding the blade over the smooth skin of her arm she leaves bright red gashes with blood oozing out and makes a cut for everyone who has hurt her. Twelve for glee club, Karofsky, Azimio, Sue Sylvester, and a few random ones for random people before making her final four.
Across one wrist she slashes open two deep wounds, one for each father. On the other wrist she repeats the process though this time for Shelby and the collective of WMHS. Taking pride in the fact that she'd been able to do one thing right she lets her eyes slip closed and the blood pour from her wounds. Continuing to bask in the feeling, she doesn't hear the opening of the door, the slip of the lock, or the shocked gasps.
However, she does feel hands moving on her arms so she struggles to stop them, fighting for her freedom. Forcing her eyes open she stares into Quinn's hazel eyes and whispers, "I love you." just before slipping away to place of true peace and happiness. Seeing the note Quinn instructs Santana to apply pressure as she picks it up and dials 911 at the same time.
Dear Reader, my name is Rachel Berry, I am seventeen years old and I have lost my life to needless bullying. Please learn from this and ban slushies permanently and instate a no bullying policy. Most teen suicide is caused because of bullying. I am now a statistic; please learn from it.
Sincerely,
Rachel Berry*
Quinn drops down on the other side of Rachel to apply pressure to her other arm. The hell you are.