Written in Blood
by
Bella Taggart
Prologue
The day Jacob Ben Israel decides to go through with killing everyone he knows is a Tuesday. He has been fantasizing about it on and off for months, going through possible scenarios and outcomes, but it isn't until he gets a Tuesday morning slushy in the face that he finally makes up his mind.
Jacob doesn't know why he is suddenly so sure. This slushy is no different than the one he wiped off his face the day before. The jock isn't particularly mean about it as he throws the icy drink on his face. He doesn't get pushed into one of the lockers, not many people linger in the hall afterwards, and only a few snicker behind his back. All things considered it's a good day.
Jacob doesn't know what exactly changes inside of him but he knows that something does, as quickly and surely as the click of a switch. He also knows that he will come to school one day in the very near future and blow all these people away. The moment he thinks of it a feeling of calm surrounds him.
1/?
Rachel wakes up with a smile on her face. It's not only her 17th birthday, but it's also the day she's going to go up against Kurt Hummel, and remind everyone why she is the only choice for Defying Gravity. Obviously. She has been working on her rendition for a few days now, even though the song is a long time favorite and she could hit the high notes in her sleep by this point. Kurt is good, great even sometimes, she grudgingly admits. That doesn't mean he stands a chance against her however.
Her fathers break into song as soon as she walks into the kitchen. This is how every birthday morning starts in the Berry home. A plate of vegan pancakes with a candle in it is shoved in front of her face and her daddy blinds her with the flash of his camera.
"Make a wish, puppet." Dad says, his warm brown eyes glistening behind his glasses.
She knows she's lucky to have fathers who love her so much. She always knows this, but on special days like this she knows it even more.
She takes in a deep breath, closes her eyes to make her wish- a love so big it'll sweep her right off her feet (it's been the same wish for a few years now, she is hopeful it's going to take at some point)- and blows out the candle.
Hugs and kisses come after that. And a big breakfast. Presents will come later on; after dinner at her favorite restaurant. Well, maybe before, if her fathers can't wait any longer to give them to her. And she won't be surprised if she finds a card in her bag later in the day, something she can read at school. She is not spoiled. Not at all.
They settled into this routine years ago and it works out really well. She figures they came up with it in the first place so that she would have something to look forward to all day long. She doesn't mind. What she lacks in friends, her parents more than make up for.
She walks out of her house with a kick in her step. She's going to give her very best performance at glee this afternoon and tonight she will celebrate with an extra large serving of cake. It's going to be a day to remember, she's sure of it.
Quinn takes her pompoms out of her locker and shuts it with more force than strictly necessary. She's not having a very good day. Puck wants to talk about Beth, and he makes sure that she knows it every chance he gets. It's starting to get to her. She's told him as much, and yet he continues to push. She's pretty sure that if he mentions it one more time she is going to punch him. Or send Santana after him, which is perhaps the harsher of her options but she's tried everything at this point and nothing seems to get through. Perhaps physical violence will.
It isn't like they have anything left to talk about. They had a baby together, they gave it up. Rachel's birth mother has her now; the same mother who doesn't want to be a mother to her own daughter, but wants to be one to hers. It's a pretty messed up situation. But it's done.
She briefly wonders how Rachel feels about the whole thing- Not that she'll ask her, but it can't be easy on her. Then again not much seems to phase Rachel with her full teeth on display smile so who knows.
"Hey Quinny. Why so serious?"
It's Santana.
"Just thinking"
"About?"
"Glee." She says.
Santana is her best friend. Again. They have their ons and offs but they are on at the moment, and if she can talk to anyone about this, it's probably her. But then again, she doesn't want to talk about it.
Santana gives her a funny look, which means she isn't buying it, but plays along anyway.
"Ready for the diva off?"
"Huh?" Quinn asks.
"RuPaul and Porcelain."
"Right."
"I'm rooting for Kurt, if for no other reason than to knock her down a notch, the insufferable little bitch."
"Nice to see you in a sunny mood."
"I'm just sick and tired of that dwarf getting all the solos. Like seriously, has Shuster never heard me sing?"
"You should have thrown your hat into the ring if you wanted it San."
"Please, like I care about Glee."
"I dunno, seems to me like you care a little."
"Whatever, Rachel can suck on my dick."
A small gasp from behind makes her look back. And of course Rachel is there.
They lock eyes and for a second Quinn feels bad about what Santana said but then Rachel looks down without saying anything and that sparks enough anger in Quinn that she doesn't feel so bad anymore. The girl doesn't even stand up for herself, just takes it and goes on her merry little way. It's pathetic really.
"Good morning Quinn, Santana." Rachel greets them with her typical cheer to her voice.
Quinn feels like shaking the girl.
"What do you want?" Santana asks, her voice not the least bit apologetic.
"Mr. Shuster wants us to meet during lunch break. I believe that he's got an announcement to make regarding sectionals. I suggest you be on time."
"Fine." Quinn says, without looking back.
A moment later Rachel is gone.
Rachel is the first one to show up in the auditorium, as usual. She drops her bag on a seat and climbs onto the stage. She loves this place. This is where her dreams come true. Every day for a few minutes she walks in here and sings a song. She's been doing it since freshman year. The acoustics is brilliant, the space is grand. And the moment she opens her mouth she feels transported to a place where there is only beauty and warmth.
It's the exact opposite of how she feels when she gets slushied.
Here she belongs.
She fiddles with the piano, plays a few notes of On my Own and feels herself smiling. Les Mis really is a work of pure genius.
By her estimation she has at least a few minutes until people start piling in. Might as well make use of the time and space she thinks, as she takes center stage. She looks at the empty seats and imagines them full. Broadway, she thinks, and starts singing.
The song gets to her, it always does. And even though she is overcome with emotion she feels better as the final lyrics fall from her mouth.
She thinks it funny that she should feel better simply by getting lost in a song in an empty theater but she does, so what's the harm really. And it's proof that contrary to popular belief, it doesn't take much to make her happy. This is all she needs.
Someone claps, and Rachel snaps out of her thoughts. She wipes her face, getting rid of the tears.
"Hello?" She calls out, trying to see into the back.
"Hello Rachel."
"Jacob? What are you doing here?"
"I saw you walk in, I followed you."
She sighs, "You really need to stop doing that Jacob. It's unhealthy, this obsession."
"That was a great song and you sang it so well."
His attention is unwanted, and she feels intruded upon. And yet she can appreciate persistence. She herself has been known to go after what she wants, no matter how many times she gets rejected. So she gives him a weak smile, "Thank you."
Walking over to the piano, she shuts its cover, "If you want to talk, you might as well come forward. I can't see you over there."
He walks down the aisle, and stands where he is visible. His attire is the first thing she notices about him. He's wearing an army jacket, heavy boots and a green bandana on his head. His face is painted as well. Rachel holds in the laughter that suddenly wants to bubble out of her.
"You look very…Rambo-esque."
"You like it?"
"Hmm…" Rachel grins, "I'd say you're ready to infiltrate the enemy camp."
"That's the point."
She doesn't really understand what he means, but she isn't worried about it. Also, if she is being honest, she doesn't care enough to ask.
"Right…so, what can I help you with?"
He doesn't say anything for a while, and Rachel wants to work on her solo one more time before the others come in, so she urges him to get a move on.
"If you're here to ask me to be your date to the blue moon party, the answer I am afraid is still no. Really Jacob, I'm quite certain that if you give yourself half the chance and let go of this so called crush you have on me, you will find a perfectly acceptable girl who will reciprocate your feelings. Granted, she probably won't be as talented as I am but talent isn't everything. So they say."
"It's your birthday, right?"
She's caught off-guard by the question, not unpleasantly so but not in an entirely pleasant way either.
"Well yes, as a matter of fact. It's nice of you to remember."
"I see you, you know. I see the pain you are in."
O-kayyy. "I don't know what you mean."
"Every day you pretend like it doesn't bother you." He says, taking a step closer. "I see you trying to fit in, working harder than anybody else. You give it your all to be perfect. Perfect little Rachel Berry and still nobody appreciates you."
"Jacob." She warns, suddenly wary of this conversation.
"Deep down you know that you are just a loser and you don't deserve to be happy. But you do Rachel, don't you see? It's these people...they don't know you like I do. No matter how much you try to pretend, at the end of the day you're as miserable as I am. And that's why you cry every time you sing."
"That's not true." She says weakly, even as her eyes fill with tears.
"Don't LIE!" He yells, and she jumps. She doesn't want to talk anymore.
"Jacob, I don't know what's gotten into you but I think you should leave now."
"Don't play dumb." He says like a curse, somehow managing to look both calm and crazy at the same time. "And stop moving."
His hands go inside his pockets and for the first time Rachel notices the bulges at his sides. Her heart jumps to her throat and still she tries to make sense of what's going on. This isn't what it looks like she tells herself, it's a prank. Or a documentary. Yes, this is one of Jacob's stupid little documentaries.
"Where is the camera Jacob?" She asks, with a bravado she doesn't feel.
"I'm going to give you a gift Rachel. The best gift in the world."
"Oh, yeah?" She asks slowly, her eyes glued to his hands in his pockets.
"I'm going to make the pain stop."
"Jacob…You're scaring me."
"There is nothing to be afraid of. Not anymore."
And then he takes his hand out of his pocket, and holds up a gun.
"Oh God." She gasps, because it's a real gun, she has seen enough props to know the difference.
She doesn't understand what is happening, only hears herself beg when he points the gun towards her. "Don't, please."
Her hands go up on their own, motioning for him to stop, and her eyes close in fear, no longer able to meet his eyes. Shema Israel, she prays urgently, Shema Israel Adonai. Only she can't remember what comes next. And that in itself is crazy because she wakes up and goes to bed to this prayer.
God, she thinks, help me.
"Rachel."
She is crying, her head shaking in denial. This can't be happening.
"Look at me."
"No," She's too afraid.
"Yes," He says, "Look at me Rachel."
It's the softness of his voice that finally has her raising her head. "What?" She croaks, what do you want from me?
"Happy birthday."
The bullet- much louder than anything she has heard before- catches her right in the center and throws her flying back.
She is literally swept off her feet.