Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. If I did, Faberry woulda happened LONG ago.
Warnings: Graphic child abuse, mentions of self-loathing, and suicidal thoughts
Eventual Faberry with mentions of Brittana
Quinn's eyes were bloodshot as her gaze remained firmly on her bedroom door. The light switch was flicked off, and the only source of light was from the hallway. The light peered through the cracks of the door. Every shadow that crossed caused the blonde's breathing to hitch in her throat, and choke her with fear. When it would pass, even then she couldn't quite calm herself to relax.
Every sound reverberated throughout her ears, and her nerves would suddenly spasm a bit in a wild panic. At that moment, nothing was heard besides her erratic breathing, and that seemed too loud of a noise for Quinn's liking. She placed her sweating palm over her mouth in an attempt to stifle the sound.
The blonde pulled the covers closer to her body in hopes of protection. However, all it resulted in was unnecessary heat. It felt to hot, so she quickly shuffled the blanket off herself. The cool air tingled her skin, and goosebumps erupted on her bare arms. The hairs on her arms stood on edge, and a low creaking sound tore her from her panic induced reverie.
A whimper tumbled from her lips, and Quinn curled into herself. The creaking grew closer and closer, and tears stung her eyes irritatingly. Her heart was beating wildly in her chest, and her lip was nearly bleeding from how hard she was chewing on it. A shadow blocked the hallway light, and her room grew slightly darker. Fear gripped her tightly, and she closed her eyes, hoping it would block the world out.
Creak.
The door opened slowly, and heavy footsteps entered the room. Quinn covered her eyes with her hands, and a single sob sounded in her throat. She could already smell the alcohol as the aroma drifted to her nose. She could taste the vomit in her throat, but she swallowed it down roughly.
Crack!
The sound of a belt hitting his palm echoed harshly in the blonde's head. Another sob burst through her firmly shut lips. Tears slowly started to pour out of her eyes. Footsteps stalked forward, and Quinn could tell her father was stumbling a bit due to the alcohol running through his system. As soon as he was next to her bed, she forced a stoic facade. The beating would only be worse if she showed any signs of pain.
"Father?" Quinn asked. She silently thanked herself for the lack of tremble in her voice. A growl bubbled in her father's chest.
"Shut up." He hissed while tightening his grip on the belt. His daughter's jaw tensed, and she quieted down obediently.
"You disappointed me today, Quinn." Her father belittled angrily. He raised the belt, and swiftly slapped her wherever he could. The blonde teenager jolted as the leather met her back. The stinging on her back rivaled the stinging in her eyes.
"Yes, sir." She whispered brokenly. He tsked lowly, but loud enough for Quinn to despise herself.
"At least you're recognizing your fucking mistakes." He muttered before gripping her arm roughly. He pulled her towards him, and the alcohol burned her nose.
"I failed you." She spoke quietly.
"That you did, you little bitch." Her father agreed before making a fist, and punching her square in the gut. She doubled over in agony. Yet, she made no noise.
"How does it feel? How does it feel to fail at everything you do? Why can't you be more like your sister?" Those words were a verbal smack to the face. Her father noticed, but had to physically repeat the gesture. Quinn grasped her stinging cheek as silent tears slid down her cheeks.
"It feels horrible, sir." She choked out.
"I would imagine so. Hell, your failures affects me! It effects this family's image, and I will make sure you realize just how much this hurts me." He grounded out in a drunken fury.
Mr. Fabray twisted his hands in her hair, and reeled her back. Their eyes met briefly before he raised his belt, and smacked her across the face with it. She felt grateful that the next day was a school day. Others would groan at the lack of relaxation of a weekend, but for Quinn, it meant less of a beating the night before; It meant eight blissful hours of freedom. At school, she ruled, and unleashed her pain onto unsuspecting victims, while at home, she was the bottom of the food chain.
The breath was quickly ripped from her lungs as a particularly hard hit to the chest also ripped her from her inner thoughts. Her father smirked at the sight of her writhing. He grabbed her arm, and squeezed it tightly. She whimpered to herself, and she knew a bruise would be in its place the next day. His hand lifted into the air, and backhanded her roughly.
Quinn flew onto her side, and landed onto her pillow. Tears soaked her pillow, and Mr. Fabray narrowed his eyes. He glanced over at the clock on her bedside table. 1:45. The glowing red numbers glared back, and he sighed in exhaustion.
"Think about what I said. I only want you to be perfect. Like me." He muttered before turning on his heel, and exiting her room with a slam of the door. Quinn nuzzled into her pillow, and let the tears overtake her.
She believed what her father said. She was a disappointment, and if she bettered herself, and stopped making so many mistakes, she could be worthy of something. She could be worthy of many things: Perfection, success, maybe even love. If only she could be perfect. However, all she felt was trapped; Trapped and alone. A single thought drifted into her mind before exhaustion took over the pain.
What if I can't be perfect?
The alarm blared in Quinn's ear. Her eyes widened. Light filtered in through the thin curtains of her window. The clock continued to ring shrilly, and the blonde winced as she reached over to shut off the alarm. She grimaced at the purplish coloring covering her upper arms. She swung her legs over the side of her bed, but flinched as a dull throb shot through her abdomen.
Quinn lifted her shirt, and more bruising covered her stomach. A sigh escaped her lips, and she slowly hoisted herself to her feet. The blonde shuffled hesitantly to the bathroom, and a gasp tore from her lips when her cheek was swollen slightly, and her lip was split.
Panic enveloped her senses. She wasn't sure how to conceal the evidence of her father's rage, but decided that her best option was to ice her cheek. If anyone noticed her lip, she could just pass it off as a rendezvous with a boy. Then again, if word reached her father, hell would sure be paid.
When the time comes, I'll think of something.
With a tentative determination, she quickly (as quick as she could considering her bruises) dressed in enough clothing to cover herself. It might have appeared foreign, but Quinn dressed in a long sleeve shirt, and pants. She grabbed her bag, and walked downstairs to the kitchen. After gathering enough ice to fill a plastic baggie, she pulled out a rag, and folded the bag with it. A hiss escaped her mouth when the frozen sensation touched her cheek.
Footsteps descended the steps, and her father entered the kitchen without glancing her way. Something she was grateful for. Without a look back, the blonde girl walked out of the house, and prepared for the school day ahead.
Okay, so this is my first Glee fic, and reviews would certainly help me if any mistakes were caught. Or just a regular review to tell me how this is progressing? ;) Anyway, let me know what you think, yeah?