Rachel Berry had always loved winter in New York. She loved the way the wind tossed her hair, the way the snowflakes kissed her cheeks. She loved how even though the sky was pitch black at five in the evening, the streets glowed with the cities dazzling lights. She adored the tree at the Rockefeller Centre, she could stand in front of it for hours. Watching parents rush past with heaving bags from FAO Schwarz, seeing children wrapped in coats and mittens begging for the latest toys, gliding across the ice at Central Park – she treasured it all. Meals with her fathers' followed by a Broadway production – yes, Rachel Berry loved winter in New York.
She loved it when she went back in the evenings to a cosy hotel room. Not when she returned to her tiny apartment that she couldn't afford to heat. She didn't love it that wearing four sweaters had become the norm. She didn't love that she hated going to theatres now because they had become synonymous with the word 'no'. She certainly didn't love that whilst she was a shining star in Lima, Ohio, she was just another table-waiting musical theatre major in New York City.
Drawing her red coat around her tiny frame, Rachel lowered her head against the icy chill as she slowly made her way out of the Gershwin Theatre. Sure it was just a chorus part. As much as people claim that there are no small parts, this one was a tiny part. But it was a part in Wicked. She was born to be Elphaba. She would have been able to prove herself, she'd work her way up to the top. But she hadn't been given the chance. Once again a resounding 'no' rang in her ears. There was always some silly reason – she was too short, she just wasn't right, she was too inexperienced. But all Rachel could hear was 'you aren't good enough'. She would never good enough. At least in Lima, in Glee, she was the best. Here, she just wasn't sure anymore.
She shivered. New York really was cold. She'd never realised before. When she got chilly her dad would rush her into a waiting cab. There was no way that she could afford one now though. She picked up the pace, moving like a true New Yorker – no politeness, no care for others. Selfish. The city was selfish, and this was something she was beginning to realised. It chewed people up and spat them out. It was how it worked – it's what kept the city alive. At least that was how her increasingly cynical little mind saw it. Rachel was being chewed up. She was just waiting to be spat out.
Short and Sweet I hope? This is just a prologue, the meat of the story is on its way, and there will be plenty of St Berry goodness for us all!
Let me know what you think please :)