Hey guys! So I've been dying to write something er, fucked up forever, and here it is! Yay!
I advise you do not read this unless you can tolerate sorts of unthinkable things, whoops.
This is my first time writing anything like this, so reviews would be plenty helpful! Thanks!
To say that Rachel Berry was frequently 'paranoid' or 'angry' would be a disgusting understatement.
She sees them. She watches them.
When she sings, as amazing and breathtaking as her voice is, no one listens.
No one cares.
When they all group up as the Glee Club at lunch, all happily sitting together, sharing snacks and laughing like they're the happiest fucking group of people in the whole damn world, or when fucking Quinn Fabray purposely places her designer purse on the empty seat next to her just so she can't sit down with everyone else, no one cares.
Except for her.
Rachel cares. She cares a lot.
She cares too much about EVERYTHING. Every morning, she meticulously straightens the strands of her dark brown hair over and over, and irons her dresses and skirts to make sure every last wrinkle is removed. She even goes as far as to match her shoes with the almost unnoticeable colors of dress collars, and even washes the chain of her gold star necklace every night, to wear with every outfit. Gold stars are her metaphor, after all.
Of course no one ever notices.
Rarely ever sleeping, Rachel stays up nights studying the same french vocab words she already has memorized, or singing the same numbers from Les Miserables over and over despite the fact that she's had the whole songbook perfected since the age of 2. She does all this just to be noticed. And no one ever does.
Rachel once thought that joining the Glee Club would be the best way to 'meet some people' after her transfer. At least thats what her stupid fucking therapist told her, not that she knew anything about how to run her damn life. It was SO unfair she even had to transfer in the first place! She only threatened to break the neck one of her fellow classmates! She never actually did it.
But no, apparently saying things like "I'll snap your neck and watch your limp body coil in agony" in the middle of class is considered dangerous and a form of harassment. Doesn't mean she needed to go to that fucking mental hospital for a whole year. She wasn't crazy, she was just...outspoken.
Wonderfully, painfully outspoken, with a.. different view on the world. That's how she described herself to her doctors, that is.
The reality was that she was stellar talented and deserved proper recognition. So what if she was a little bit bossy and assertive? Was it wrong that she knew what she wanted? Was it wrong that she thought those who weren't as talented as her shouldn't exist?
But here she sat, alone at lunch, picking at her salad for the last half hour, as she locked eyes continuously with several of her 'teammates'. She watched Quinn Fabray fake a laugh, her blonde ponytail swaying in the wind with every duck of her head. She notices the way her cheerleading uniform clings to her thin body.
Then Quinn turns around, and simply smiles at her.
It wasn't an ordinary smile though. It was the kind of smile that said "unwelcome" and "unwanted" with every lasting second.
Suddenly Rachel was wondering how easy it would be to break that thin, fragile body. She shakes the thought, and continues to play with her uneaten salad until the bell rings.
It had just been a quick trip to the bathroom, just to fix her meticulously perfect mascara and smooth out her stockings.
"Rachel Berry," Quinn Fabray's shrill voice filled the once quiet bathroom as she entered the doors, with Santana Lopez and Brittany Pierce at her flanks. Rachel rolls her eyes, and continued to pamper in the mirror. Just one more brush of makeup, just one more fix of her headband..
Suddenly a hand is placed hard on the mirror, and Quinn is right in front of her face.
"Did you not hear me say your name?" Quinn said again, laughing.
"Actually, yes. I heard you. Usually I try to tune you out, though. I can't bring myself to converse with someone with a third grade reading level," Rachel responded without looking the blonde in the eye.
Santana and Brittany laughed behind Quinn, folding their arms in similar fashions.
"That was funny, really, Berry," Quinn breathed down her neck. As if her words were the signal, Santana and Brittany grabbed her arms, and dragged her to the bathroom stall across the floor.
"LET ME GO!" Rachel cried out with all of her might. Hoping someone, somewhere would hear her scream.
Of course no one did.
All Rachel felt was the dirty water of the toilet cover her manicured hair and face. She could barely breathe. She was dunked over and over again, hearing only the laughter of the girls and the sloshing of the water, and her own heavy panting in between. She didn't know how long it lasted, or how Quinn had managed to remove her gold star necklace without her knowledge before they stood her up again, but it was gone, and was suddenly being dangled in front of her face.
Quinn smirked and she dropped the necklace down the drain of the sink. Rachel cried out, the tears now pouring out her wet face.
Don't let them see you cry. Stop crying. Stop crying.
The lock of her arms suddenly ceased, causing her to fall on the floor again. The three girls just walked out of the restroom, engaging in fits of hysterical laughter, as if they just did the most hilarious thing of all time.
Rachel laid on that cold, hard floor crying until one of the nighttime janitors had to remove her to clean the bathroom.
Everything was spinning in Rachel's head. The feeling of the toilet water, the sight of her favorite necklace being dropped down the drain, Quinn's laugh.. they all repeated like a broken record in her head as she sat on her bed, rocking back and forth.
Stop crying. Stop fucking crying.
She glanced at the tiny bottle of her prescribed medication on her nightstand. They wouldn't calm her down. Not tonight.
She threw the bottle of pills across the room, screaming out and knocking over everything in sight.
If her fucking doctors were here they would be telling her that her aggression was "healthy" and "normal" and that "everything would be okay."
Well guess what. Rachel Berry was fucking tired of things "being okay".
She was fucking tired of sitting alone at lunch.
She was tired of being bullied and ridiculed and dunked into the toilets. She was a star, she deserved to be treated like one.
"Don't let them define you Rachel, you have to fight back." She replayed her therapists' words over and over again, laughing almost.
The tears began to pour down her face even harder despite the fits of laughter. She didn't want to simply fight back. She wanted absolute revenge.
She wanted blood.
Suddenly, a temporary high of euphoria filled her body at the mention of the word. Blood. There was something always so pretty about it, wasnt there?The image of Quinn Fabray's spine cracking in half, and cheerleading uniform being saturated in her warm, red, blood was almost intoxicating. She could hear her begging for her life, pleading with her failing breath to spare her. "Oh please, Rachel, I"m so fucking sorry! I'll let you sit with us, Rachel. I'll buy you a new necklace!", she would say before she would give her the final blow, before all of the blood would pour out of every limb of her horrid body..
Then it was decided. Oh, Rachel Berry was not just going to fight back.
If they thought she was fucking nuts for 'harassment', imagine how everyone would react if she actually put some actions behind her words.
After all, she had always been taught that words were just words, right? It was actions that made a difference. It was actions that got people noticed.
Rachel Berry was going to make ALL of the Glee Club WISH they let her sit with them, one by one. Starting with Quinn Fabray.
And for the first time, she went to bed with an absolute smile pasted on her face.
Tomorrow would be the beginning of the end.