Bad Quinn vs. Good Quinn, who of course has it all figured out.
Quinn sits there under the bleachers being lonely.
The Skanks have left without her, pretty sure they are getting stoned somewhere by now. But Quinn isn't in the mood to be rebellious today.
The cigarette in her right hand doesn't even count anymore, she barely notices it.
Inside of her is nothing but pain.
"Quinn" a soft voice calls.
She doesn't look up as the blonde girl in the white dress appears out of thin air.
"What do you want from me?" she grumbles.
"I just want you to be happy" the girl whispers.
"I am happy! I've never been this happy before, okay?" Quinn replies angrily.
"No, you're not."
Quiet hands make their way over her arms, her back, her neck; and she feels her head lifted upwards, just to stare in her own, innocent eyes. She stares at her for a moment, all of the sudden feeling the urge to cry, to let it all go loose.
Then she fights back.
"Why are you so fucking stupid!" she shouts, and tears appear in the other girl's eyes.
"You build your damn perfect little world, but it means nothing! Nothing! This here is real, okay? I don't have to care for limits, for expectations, I can just be myself for once!"
Her eyes are wet and her voice is shaking, but she still manages to say: "No, Quinny. That's not you. You don't love anymore."
Hell, Quinn hates her so much right now. She can't just say things like that; make her feel guilty and even more miserable. She simply can't.
"I've loved plenty, thank you very much. I have friends."
"They aren't your friends, Quinn" the girl states quietly and stands up, looking angelic as if a white cloud would come and take her up to heaven any second. Her blonde curls shine in the few beams of light that find their way under the bleachers.
"You have to look into yourself. Who makes you feel good? Who do you belong to?"
Oh, Quinn knows where she's going.
"They don't care about me. They don't accept me for who I am. They accepted the cute little puppet you are, because you're adapted and not strong enough to be yourself. They aren't friends."
She wishes she would have hurt her opposite with that, but the girl only smiles sadly.
"Every relationship has its rough times; you have to work through it. No person starts where another one stops. We have to leave space to the ones we love, because humans aren't puzzle pieces. There are conflicts. But it doesn't mean it won't work again eventually."
"Shut up!"
The anger rises in Quinn, the more she's speaking. Maybe, maybe she's right, just a little bit, but they hadn't been like that, she had to change for them, not just take minor setbacks.
She blinks sweetly, folding her hands.
"I'm praying for you, Quinn. Every single day. You will find your way."
That is when it's enough.
Quinn rises and takes the two steps towards the girl. She strikes out, throwing her cigarette away, and then she pushes her hand forward, with all the strength she has.
There is flesh and bones under the fierce hit of her palm, and it feels so strangely satisfying to see the girl fall, and the shock and fear in her face.
Finally, finally she has stopped talking, making her feel guilty.
Is there blood?
Quinn hopes there is, because everything she wants right now is that girl hurting, feeling the pain she causes by herself, the pain that is all this girl's fault.
"I don't need god anymore!" she screams and draws back her foot to kick the body on the ground. "I don't need your fucking advice!"
But when she launches her leg forward, there is no resistance.
The girl is gone.
Quinn loses her balance and struggles to stay on her feet, waggling her arms helplessly.
"I fell so sorry for you, Quinny" the breathe whispers to her, and somewhere up in the sky she can feel the girl smiling her sad, oh-so understanding smile.
Quinn just stands there, motionless, quiet, heavily breathing.
She didn't win, once again she didn't win over that little saint that tried to turn her back in the person she wanted to be the least right now.
But that girl would be back. She would be back to confront Quinn with what she could be like.
She would come back as long as Quinn couldn't explain herself. She would come back as long as Quinn wouldn't admit how broken she was.