The first time was an accident. A simple cut from shaving her legs in the shower, and being a little too careless. Quinn leans over, running her fingers over the sliced skin of her calf, and flinching slightly at the sting, wondering if it would scar her perfect skin. She watches as the bright red liquid runs down over her ankle, through her toes, staining the pearly white bathtub floor red for just a moment before disappearing down the drain with no remnants of it left behind. It was almost as if the mistake had never happened at all.

Quinn rinses off her body, and turns off the warm water, wrapping herself in a towel and entering her room. She puts on a white silky lace camisole, and a pair of light pink boxers. She then sits on her bed, pumping lotion from a bottle into her hand, and rubbing the cream all over her legs. As her fingers brush across the cut, a sharp sting startles her, a ghost of the pain that she'd experienced just minutes ago in the shower.

She couldn't help but remember how beautiful it looked, the contrast of bright scarlet on her pale skin. She couldn't help but relish in the delightful release that the sting had brought her. It was strange. It didn't make sense. So like most things that were strange, and that Quinn didn't understand, she chose to ignore it, hoping that it would not make an appearance again. She places a band-aid neatly over it, and goes to sleep.

By the time she gets up for school the next morning, the whole ordeal was forgotten.

x-x-x-x

The next time it happens it isn't quite so accidental. A few days have passed, and Quinn is once again, in the shower, shaving her legs. As she leans over to reach the hair on her left calf, she notices the fading pink line- all that was left of her foolish mistake the last time she had shaved.

She runs the razor over it, and it seems the skin has healed enough that the pressure does not re-open the wound. Quinn surprises herself by being slightly disappointed. She was almost looking forward to the sting. The painful pleasure that had been so relieving a few days ago.

She hesitates before closing her eyes, pressing the razor hard against the skin of her ankle. In one, quick, sweeping motion, the deed is done. Quinn is bleeding from her ankle. She half-smiles. The cut is slightly deeper than last time, and the high that Quinn gets lasts a few seconds longer. For those few seconds, it felt like she was on top of the world- like she could do anything, be anything. And then the moment is gone. It slips through her fingers, and is carried down the drain. Gone forever. Quinn will never get those seconds back. Suddenly, she feels really, really, empty. It feels like something is missing. Like she'd lost a piece of herself with the blood spiraling away.

Quinn shakes her head, turning the water to cold before shutting it off completely.

x-x-x-x

Quinn can't sleep that night. She tosses, and turns, and flips, and twists, but she just can't seem to get comfortable. She plays relaxing music, even reads for a while, but it's two A.M., and Quinn can't seem to get herself to fall asleep. She turns on the lamp on her bedside table, sitting up, and pulling the covers back. She hugs her legs to her chest, but after a while, finds herself scratching at the band-aid she'd placed on her ankle before getting in bed that night. She slowly peels it back, and the sight of her reddened skin pleases her.

She just stares at it for a while, before she begins to scratch at it, and before she knows it, she's bleeding again, and the feeling is so calming and reassuring that Quinn almost forgets to breathe.

This is the first time she's felt this safe and secure since…well, since she can remember.

Things just kept happening to her. Ever since Beth was born, things had been very hard. It just felt like everyone knew everything about her. That she was so exposed. Sam had stopped that hurt for a moment, but it wasn't enough. He was too perfect. He was different, and Quinn couldn't' handle different. She needed things to go back to the way they used to be. That's why she sought out Finn. That's why she needed him so badly.

She knew he didn't' want her anymore. He knew she wasn't enough for him after Rachel, for whatever reason. If Rachel was better for Finn than she was, what did that say about her? That she was, dare she say it, lesser than Rachel Berry? Was she more of a loser and an outcast than her? Was that possible?

But everyday, it became more and more clear that it was. Finn doesn't love her. Not the way he used to. Not the way he loves Rachel. And everybody seems to know it. They seem to anticipate the day that they will break up. But Quinn can't let that happen. Not to her.

And then she loses the Prom Queen vote, and that's it. It's proof. Confirmation that things will never, ever be the same for Quinn Fabray ever again. Things can't go back to the way they were sophomore year before the baby. Quinn isn't the same. Finn isn't the same, and McKinley High School sure as hell knows it.

It just seems like everybody has a piece of her these days. That she is so out of control because she can't control what goes on in her life anymore. She has let others influence her so much that she can't rely on herself. Nothing was hers.

But, this. This new discovery that Quinn had made. This was hers, and nobody else could take it from her. This release that made her forget how awful she felt about herself. It was Quinn's. Soley Quinn's. Only Quinn's.

So, that's how this habit starts. This is the beginning of the end.

x-x-x-x

Somehow, it becomes too much of a good thing. It's an addiction. She can't stop. She starts losing her mind if she goes too long without bleeding. Her chest literally aches with need, she sometimes feels dizzy, and more often than not, she'll develop a headache. She gets a lot more irritable, but once she excuses herself to the bathroom, and uses anything she can- sometimes her own nails- to relieve the emptiness, she comes back as calm and as laidback as ever. It's like a drug.

When she has to leave during a church service to cut, Quinn starts questioning herself. So, that's why she starts sifting through the bible, looking for something to tell her that what she was doing was wrong. That it was a sin. But in the back of her mind, she almost hopes that it would say nothing so that she could continue doing what made her feel so good.

There wasn't much. It explicitly said that Christians are not to get tattoos, and Quinn already knew that, but the first part of Leviticus 19:28 read "you shall not make any cuts in your body for the dead".

Upon further research, Quinn finds that the "for the dead" part derives from a funerary practice that people used to perform, involving making slashes on your arms. It was widely considered sinful, but it was a sign of mourning.

Quinn is breaking a rule, because although she was not hurting herself for the death of another, she was hurting herself for the death of herself. Not literally of course, but figuratively. The death of the former Quinn. The person that she longed to be, the person she longed to get back. But that Quinn was lost in another dimension of time and space, never to be found again. Quinn wasn't getting her back. And that hurt so much, that Quinn shuts her bible, tossing it across her room, and commits herself to Hell as she slashes her wrists with a nail file.

She wonders how something that makes her feel so good, could in any way be bad. Why would God want to keep her from this?

Nothing so beautiful could ever be a sin.

Yeah, Quinn Fabray is on her way to Hell.

But the for the first time in her life, she can't bring herself to care.