A/N: I think this might be my first ever time writing gen, and certainly the first time in a long while that I've written in first person.
Inside and Out
I can still see her. When I look in the mirror, when I stand there in my underwear and just look, I can see her. In the flat planes of my stomach that are never smooth enough, in the twinkle of my eyes that hold contact lenses and in the wobble of my thighs when I move; she is here inside me. I turn and coquette in my bedroom, trying to convince myself that I'm thin now, and beautiful. Trying to pretend that I don't have to be afraid anymore. I run an experimental hand over one breast, feeling the soft swell, disgust filling me. This isn't how I should look. This isn't how I should be. My belly curves outwards a little and I feel bile rise in my throat as I take it in.
Logically, I know that it's from the baby, from not being on the Cheerio's, from a hundred thousand little things. It doesn't make me ugly. Or does it? One hand goes to my nose, running my fingertips over it, small and smooth to the touch. It didn't always look this way. I remember a time when I would stand in front of this very mirror, eyes red-rimmed as I poked and prodded at it, willing it to shrink and knowing it never would. I hated myself then. I hated the way I looked, the way I acted. I hated the way that I was mocked and bullied at school, the way they only saw what they expected to see. They never saw who I really was.
But do they see me now? Not really. They see Quinn Fabray, ex-captain of the Cheerio's, Finn Hudson's girlfriend and all-round popular girl. They don't know that inside I'm still terrified. Still screaming. The truth is, I'm not the ice queen that everyone makes me out to be. I feel pain, I feel insecurity. Some days I could scream with it, the cold, hard pressure on my chest making me want to cry out. But the truth is, I don't think anyone would come.
I've hurt them too badly over the years. I cheated and lied and bullied others to make myself feel better about the way I look, the way I am. I cheated on Finn with Puck not just because I was drunk, but because I wanted to feel something. I wanted to feel something again, anything at all; but with the shards of glass in my heart now, I'm regretting that. I bullied and victimised Rachel because she dared to go after what was mine, what I wanted to keep. I lost Finn to her, not through her own actions, but through mine. He's gone because of me.
Turning again in front of the ill-fated mirror, I catch sight of my hips, jutting proudly outwards. I want to be sick just at the sight of them. They're repulsive and gross, and yet I can't look away. I raise a hand and stroke over one lightly, before pulling it away in disgust. I face myself again, and take in my altered nose, my artificial eyes, my flat stomach. It doesn't matter what I look like now, I'm still ugly; inside and out.