PROLOGUE
When did this happen?
When did I become this person, this despicable person who destroys people emotionally, verbally, physically?
Could someone stop and tell me? Could someone please save me?
I am drowning in a sea of insecurities, and sudden epiphanies of who I am, who I'm not, and what I had done. With those realizations came the staggering feeling of loneliness that only came about when I realized that no one was going to swoop in and come to my rescue.
My friends were practically nonexistent. Santana had been slowly drifting from me, and Britney had Artie to latch onto. I stood no chance against this storm that had once been my life. The waves were just getting too high.
Chapter 1
The hallways of McKinley were, as always, packed. Monday morning's always seemed to be the worst. Maybe because I just wasn't prepared for the masses, and the voices that accompanied them. While the crowds parted for me, and no one spoke to me directly, it felt as if they were all slowly closing in on me. I wanted to run.
"Quinn!" The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. Oh God, Finn. Recently he had been attempting to rekindle a relationship that I wanted no part of. He couldn't seem to take no for an answer. I just wish he'd give me some space, or even better, just leave me altogether alone. Alas, twas not to be the case, but I kept on walking. I might have sped up a little but no one has to know that...
"Quinn wait up," Finn called. Come on. Come on. Almost to the girls restroom. I can lose him still. The hand that gripped my arm and pulled me to abrupt halt stopped all those plans of peace in their tracks.
'You can't cry in front of these people, you can't cry in front of all these people,' I chanted to myself, and hoped it made a difference.
I turned to face Finn whose grip on my arm bordered on painful. He was all smiles at having caught me. On occasions like this I wondered why I still bothered to come to school. Of course, then I always remembered my dreams of scholarships and getting out of Lima, and normally it was enough to make it worth it. This wasn't one of those times.
"Hey," he said, "I've been looking to talk to you since last week, but it's been like you've been trying to avoid me or something," Trying? I'd been succeeding till today," Did I do something wrong?"
"No, nothing's wrong," I tried to formulate a longer reply but the words were lost to the loud shriek behind me. It was followed by a very familiar splashing sound that recently I had come to hate.
I spun around to face one Rachel Berry. Rachel Berry who was covered in blue icky gooey slushie. Her eyes were squeezed shut as she tried to wipe some of it off. The halls were filled with laughter as she struggled, and I just couldn't stand it. It was all so loud. It echoed in my skull. Reverberated in my eardrum creating almost hyena like emulations in my ears. Rachel stood in the center like some poorly painted pinata, and I couldn't stand it. Any of it. The Slushie. The Laughter. The Humiliation that always followed the victim.
I marched up to her and grabbed her blue free hand. She was stuck being dragged behind me to the bathroom. I was breathing hard by the time I shoved her into the empty restroom. My fingers were massaging my temples as I attempted to stop not only the frustrated tears, but just all out rage that everything was just so crap.
Running water made me open my eyes. Rachel was slowly methodically cleaning off her face and clothes. Like she'd done it before. I knew she had. I strode past her and grabbed a fist full of paper towels to at least try and do something. She seemed wary when I made to hand them to her. It just seemed to make me madder. Not at her, but at myself. Why did I have to be such a bitch to her? Why couldn't I have been nice? Was being nice really that hard?
Apparently it was for me.
I didn't know what to do and she didn't reach for the paper towels. I suppose I wouldn't want help from me either. My hand dropped to my side with the crumpled mess clutched tightly. I glared at the ground. I carefully took my backpack off and placed it on the sink. I reached inside.
"Sorry," I whispered as I placed the black cardigan I had stored in my backpack on the sink beside her. Then I fled, and hoped to god that I was imagining the wetness on my cheeks.