Chapter title: I picture you in the sun, wondering what went wrong
Summary: Rachel watches Quinn from afar
Note: Hello all! So this is the very same In The Sun that I started writing when I first joined FF. I had thought this story was dead in the water but it turns out that my brain has decided otherwise and has since come up with ideas so I'm hoping I'll be writing some new chapters soon. In the meantime, I have updated the original three chapters, made the appropriate tweaks here and there as well as adding some things that I think improve it. I hope you enjoy it!
She's here again, sat on the same worn out bench, hands neatly folder in her lap as far from her stomach as she can possibly get without slouching forward. She's always hated slouching 'it's not good for your posture' but now she despises it, whether forward or backward, it accentuates her current problem - the one she has come to pray about. Strands of gold fall out of place as a gentle breeze rushes past. Delicate fingers clasp and unclasp. Eyes filled with concerns of far too many for one-person roam, searching for signs of life before settling on following the seemingly slow journey of a cloud. A deep shuddering breath wracks her delicate frame.
"I don't know if you can hear me, or if you're even there but...I really need help."
I watch as she dismantles every wall she puts up around anyone and everyone, taking away every last brick to reveal the person inside. It's when she lets her guard down that I realise how small and vulnerable she really is. How when she thinks no one is around to hear her, she is open and honest. She radiates an unexplainable innocence that offers the purest truth.
"I don't know what to do. I don't know how I'm supposed to feel. How do I fix this? I don't know anything right now."
The pain in her voice is almost tangible.
"I have no one else to turn to. Please help me."
Her eyes lose focus on the cloud she had been following, slowly they close and I can see her truth.
"I know there are people out there that need Your help more than I do and that I'm selfish for asking but please help me."
Her voice is so small, her last three words are desperate and imploring, barely a whisper.
"I don't know what to do. I feel so lost."
I hear the strain in her voice; the sobs that threaten to erupt for her fragile throat. Her body gives away nothing, her inner turmoil unapparent to the rest of the world. The only thing to break through the facade, to show any hint of what her life has become, are the silently shed tears staining her silky skin as they slowly succumb to the pull of gravity.
I watch on silently, she mustn't know I'm here. If she knew that I was here, that I was watching her - I would lose that trust, that thing that no one else in the world bares witness to.
It's only through my silence that I hear the hushed words falling from her lips.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
The bricks of the walls she had built have all been removed. The facade is slipping away as she brings her feet up to the bench, drawing her legs in as close as she can to her alienated body.
"Please. I'm sorry."
Her head falls to her knees, her hair falling like curtains as it completely conceals her features. Her slender arms wrap around her denim-clad legs. The facade, or what little remains of it, finally falls away. Her body trembles as she finally stops holding on and lets go of all she'd been keeping bottled up. Her hushed sobs are almost muted by the breeze fluttering through the tree.
"Please. I'm sorry. Please."
Her sobs permeate the air and for the briefest moment I swear I can taste the tears on her lips.
She lets it all fall on top of her, her body convulses with the weight of emotions she only allows herself to face here on this decrepit bench.
"Please. Please. Please."
She begs for the one thing she will never allow herself.
"I'm sorry!"
Forgiveness.
"God please...help me..."
All I can do is watch, wrestling with the urge to reach out and touch her. I want nothing more than to console her. To wipe away her tears with the pads of my thumbs, allowing the hot liquid to fill the ridges of my print. I want to place my lips on hers in a chaste kiss that tells her that it will all be ok. I want to soothe her aching heart.
Her body begins to still. Her sobs die out into silent tears.
"I'm sorry."
Her whispers grow stronger, closer to the husky rap of a seductress. Slowly she lifts her head, her hands remove themselves from denim to push aside fallen strands to reveal one last tear escaping.
"Please, just...anything."
And just like that, it's over. She stands on steady legs and arrangers her shirt, smoothing out every last crease, allowing her time to regain her composure. That look in her eyes, the one that reveals who she really is, fades away, replaced with the cold, hard stare she allows the rest of the world to see.
Still the only thing I can do is watch. I can feel the burning pain in my chest. Every time I witness those walls go back up, I feel that ache.
She walks away from her bench as though nothing has happened. The innocence is gone and that purest truth is lost.