Disclaimer: I do not own Pitch Perfect or the characters!
Beta'd By: Vanamo
A/N: Despite that this is not my headcanon about Aubrey's past, the idea would NOT let me alone until I wrote it. Chapter 1 is Aubrey!centric. Chapter 2 is Aubrey/Chloe.

Open Your Eyes

Get up, get out, get away from these liars,
'Cause they don't get your soul or your fire.
Take my hand, knot your fingers through mine,
And we'll walk from this dark room for the last time.

"You're an embarrassment to this family."

The verbal punches had been flying from her father's mouth for at least an hour now. Aubrey stood as straight as a soldier in the middle of the kitchen and let each and every word sink in as though she hadn't heard the criticism before. But in truth, she knew the lecture verbatim. She wasn't perfect, therefore she wasn't trying hard enough. She ruined every chance she had to make her father proud. She wasn't fit to be a part of the family he had built. The words he so often repeated cut through her very core, and she took them in with determination to learn from them. It was all she could do if she wanted to make him happy. The next chance she had, she would prove herself. She would be what he wanted as a daughter – whatever that was. This would be the last time he had to go through the trouble of reminding her that she was worthless. It would be the last time she was ridiculed in front of her brothers and grandfather for not matching up to the family name. She didn't know how many times she had convinced herself of that, but it didn't matter, because this time would be different. She would change and she would be perfect.

She stared intently at a spot on the wall just past the firmly-built man in front of her. He stood there with perfect posture, wearing a crisp white button-down shirt and black slacks that made him appear as if he'd been at a meeting all day as opposed to home taking care of two boys and an elderly man. In her entire life, she had never seen him dress in anything other than business clothes and his military uniform. She wouldn't be surprised if he slept in such clothes. For all she knew, he probably did. Her fingers twitched and she fought to remain as perfectly still as he was as she waited for him to continue on then dismiss her to her room. At least once he banished her from his sight, she could come up with an excuse to text Chloe and distract herself, providing he didn't shut off her cell service. She wouldn't be surprised if he had done that already, considering the amount of trouble she was in. The thought of being cut off from everyone she knew for yet another break caused her to twitch again. She quickly stilled herself and tried to pretend as though she hadn't moved. She clenched her jaw in determination to meet his expectations.

"You're not even listening to a word I say." Her father shook his head and slapped his thighs with his hands. He breathed a laugh of disbelief and looked at his father, an equally well-dressed and postured man, who was sitting at the kitchen table with two young boys. "It's like talking to a goddamn wall."

The elderly man placed his fork on his plate and swallowed the food that was in his mouth before speaking in a rickety voice, "You were the same way, Son." He picked up his napkin with quivering hands and wiped his mouth. "That girl just needs discipline. You give her too much damn leeway to do what she wants." He motioned to her with his napkin. "You tell her to stand still and she's over there twitching like she's an epileptic."

Don't move. Aubrey pressed her lips together and refused to even glance at her grandfather out of the corner of her eye. You can do this.

"You're going to stand there until you listen to me," her father said and looked at her again, "Is that clear? Do I need to repeat everything I said to you?"

Aubrey drew in a slow breath and shifted her gaze to her father. She couldn't let him know she found it hard to meet his gaze when he was lecturing her. It would be taken as a sign of weakness. "No, Sir," she assured him, "I have heard everything you said, Sir." She tried to drown out the background noise of silverware scraping against plates as the rest of her family finished their dinner. The scent of her grandfather's homemade bread had her subtly swallowing the excess saliva building in her mouth. Neither she nor her father would be eating tonight. She had ruined the family dinner by arriving home for break. Her father couldn't let her catastrophe at the finals go undealt with until later. She was being punished, and he was sacrificing his mealtime to make sure she learned a valuable lesson. Not that she had learned it the last eighty-times he taught it, as he reminded her.

"Your mother would be ashamed of you if she was here." He ran his hand over his short-cropped greying hair and looked positively appalled by the young woman standing in front of him. "I don't know how she saw you fit to call you our daughter."

Aubrey gasped a little before she could hold back. He'd never used those words on her before, and she felt gut-punched. His words slammed into her out of nowhere as if they were his knuckles taking a clean hit at her abdomen. She wavered before she clenched her fists and dug her nails into her palms to distract herself from the tears that suddenly burned her eyes. "My mother loved me," she managed in a tone just above a whisper. She tried to keep her voice steady but it still cracked and left her disgusted with herself. "Sir," she added, before he could correct her for not finishing her sentence.

"Love?" Her father asked. "Is that what you think that was?" He stepped forward and grabbed her by the wrist, yanking her in closer to him.

Aubrey stumbled then corrected her posture as quickly as she could. The thick stench of whiskey on his breath was enough to make her hold her breath to prevent herself from gagging. Her proneness to vomiting was what had started this. Not being able to help it was nothing more than an excuse. It was a miracle he was still standing with alcohol in his system, let alone doing it so perfectly. Her shame deepened. She stood stiffer than usual as his grip on her arm tightened enough that she was sure it would bruise. He had never grabbed her before. Every eye in the room was on her. "Yes, Sir," she stuck up for her mother. Her stomached rolled and she swallowed down the bile rising in the back of her throat.

"Your mother thought you were weak." He released her wrist while simultaneously pushing her back away from him. "If she had been at that acapello show of yours…"

"Acapella, Sir," Aubrey corrected him. The words slipped out before she could stop them. Her shoulders tensed and she momentarily stopped breathing again. She tried to stop her hands from shaking and lifted her chin, hoping he'd be too distracted by her perfect posture to take offense to her correction. She knew she had no right to say that.

He paused for a moment. "Excuse me?" he asked.

Aubrey fumbled for words. "It's called Acapella," she managed, "Sir." She tried to quell her passion for the Barden Bellas, the only thing that made sense to her right now. By the time she realized her mistake in her choice of response, it was too late to simply apologize, but she still tried. "I'm sorry."

"Did I ask you to speak?" he inquired.

Aubrey shook her head. "No, Sir," she answered.

"Then shut your goddamn mouth while I speak to you," he commanded.

"Yes, Sir." The room was silent and her face flushed with heat as she could feel everyone staring at her, just waiting for her to make the wrong move again. It was like a competition between her and her father, and she just kept losing. She almost wished he'd have gone through with his threats to staple her mouth shut when she was a child. It might have prevented her from singing, but it wouldn't be as hard to please him if she just never spoke the wrong words. It wasn't as though the only thing she had ever been good at was making him proud. She kept failing even at singing.

"Now, if your mother had been at that Acapella show of yours while you puked all over the goddamn stage, she probably would have rushed up on that stage and been holding your hair back because she'd think you're weak," her father told her, "She didn't love you. She felt bad that you'd never match up, Aubrey. What the hell kind of name is Aubrey anyway? I told her naming you something that girly would ruin you for the rest of your life. But she always had to have her own way."

"Please don't talk about her like that, Sir," Aubrey spoke up again, "She was a good woman." As hard as she tried to be silent, she couldn't stop defending her mother. She couldn't stop speaking and let him belittle her. She squeezed her eyes shut to lock back the tears then opened them again and stared past him with blurry vision.

"That she was," he finally agreed with something she had to say. But being on the same page didn't last for long. "It's too bad you're nothing like her. Now get out of my sight."

The words stung but Aubrey almost sighed in relief when he dismissed her. She held back, knowing that any sign of relief would just lead to him furthering her discomfort. She took a tentative step backward toward the archway between the kitchen and living room. "I'll be in my room, Sir." She glanced at the stairs against the right wall in the living room. She just needed to climb them then she was free to lock herself in her room with her phone and laptop for the rest of the evening. She was no longer hungry. The smell of food suddenly just made the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach worse. She wanted to get away and be alone.

"No." Her father calmly shook his head and spoke as though the conversation were completely casual. "I want you out of this house."

"Acascuse," Aubrey fumbled to make sense, "I mean, excuse me?" She blinked a few times, unsure what she was even saying or if she'd heard him correctly. She froze mid-step and slowly lowered her foot flat to the floor while doing her best not to break posture. Her lips remained pursed in a straight line and any trace of emotion was shoved back.

"You heard me," her father answered firmly, "I said get out. You can return tomorrow when I can stand to look at you again."

She forced a closed-lipped smile to ease the panic welling in her gut. "Sir, where am I supposed to go?" The corners of her lips twitched. The room felt low on oxygen. He had never gone as far as to kick her out before. At least not overnight.

"What, you don't have any friends in that pathetic excuse for a club you joined?" her father inquired.

The oldest of her younger brothers snorted loudly and dropped his fork on his plate. "Who'd want to be friends with her?" His lips twisted into a self-satisfied grin when she turned to glare at him.

Aubrey helplessly shifted her gaze from the sixteen year old to her grandfather, who looked just as stern as her father. "You can't just let him kick me out," she stated. She tried to sound confident, but her voice wavered.

"Respect your elders," her grandfather demanded simply.

Aubrey folded her arms tightly across her chest. It didn't matter how she stood now. She had already screwed up. Again. "Fine," she said, trying to sound apathetic. Her chin quivered against her will. "I'll just sleep in my car."

Her brothers were both focused on her every move, waiting to call her out on her mistakes. "Drama queen," the sixteen year old murmured at her choice of response.

Her ten year old brother laughed at him. "Dad, remember that time you said she was my age and kicked a soccer ball into the wrong goal and she got so upset she puked all over the car and she had to sit there until Mom got home and cleaned her up like three hours later."

Aubrey turned to face him and shot him a disgusted look.

"Careful," the sixteen your old murmured, "She might get upset and puke all over your food."

"Shut up!" Aubrey blurted out, "You're the ones Mom would be ashamed of."

"Enough!" Her father thundered. He looked at the boys. "Shut your goddamn mouths and eat your food."

"Yes, Sir," they murmured in unison. They smirked at Aubrey then turned their attention back to what remained of their dinner.

Aubrey stared at them for a moment, lost in memories of when they used to treat her as an equal. That was back when their mother had been around. She looked at her father and forced her expression to be blank then turned and marched from the room with her head held high. She got off easier if she took his disgust for her 'like a man'.

It wasn't until she knew she was out of sight in the living room that she stopped walking. She shut her eyes and gave her stomach a moment to settle. But it was only a matter of time before he'd come looking for her, just to make sure that she had obeyed him and left. She opened her eyes again and didn't even think about packing a bag. He hadn't given her permission. She stormed forward toward the door and was snatching her keys up off the end table when the only picture in the room of her and her mother caught her eye. She stuffed her keys in her pocket and grabbed the photo off the wall, holding it tightly to her chest as she fled to her car.

xxxxx

Two hours passed like ten as Aubrey sat cramped in her car with her feet on the seat and her arms tightly crossed. She had shoved the photograph under the passenger's side seat, unable to continue staring at it after an hour had passed. Tears stung her eyes, and even though she was alone, she focused on steady breathing and refused to let them fall. If someone walked outside and saw her bawling like a baby, she'd never hear the end of it. It would be just one more thing to add to her list of imperfections. She could fill a book with all the weaknesses and imperfections she was made up of. She sniffled and pressed her palms hard against her eyes then dropped her hands to her lap and looked at the clock. It was just after eight and only five minutes had passed since she last looked at the time. She puffed out her cheeks and pulled her phone out of her pocket, trying to comfort herself by looking for any new messages. Nothing. Chloe should have texted her by now to make sure she got home alright. She relied on her friend's habit of checking up on her, even during break, more than she'd like to admit. Not seeing a new message from her only furthered the emotions she was trying so hard to hold back.

She drew in a breath then jammed her thumb against the phone keys as she dialed Chloe's number with the intent of chewing her out for not texting. The angry phone calls she made to Chloe happened so often on breaks that she was surprised her friend still even answered her phone. It was always the same thing, and she could practically outline the entire call. Chloe would answer in a sickeningly cheery voice, and Aubrey would respond by naming every mistake she thought Chloe had made. Chloe would defend herself. Aubrey would retaliate by spewing a few insults to release her pent up anger. Chloe would be the first to raise her voice and they'd engage in a yelling match until Aubrey eventually hung up on her. It was a method of taking out her anger that she had picked up from her father, and as much as she hated herself for it, she still did it. Eventually, whoever let loose the worst insult would call back and apologize and the argument would be forgotten until it happened again. She pressed the phone to her ear but she was met with silence. It had been shut off.

She growled loudly in frustration and roughly threw the phone into the backseat. Her lower lip stuck out in a pout and her breaths came heavy with rage at her father and mainly at herself. She grabbed her key off the passenger's side seat and jammed it into the ignition. She knew she could drive away from him, and she hoped that if she drove far enough, she could drive away from herself as well.