This is a one-shot based on the idea that Quinn suffers from Anorexia Nervosa.
Of course, the fan fiction is AU, because there were some things I wanted to include in the story that are inconsistent with the actual show.
Honestly, I have no idea where the idea came from. I just thought that it would be interesting to see Quinn, being that perfect head cheerleader that everybody wants to be, struggling with the darker side of perfection.
I have never experienced this disease, so I apologize if some of the content is incorrect.
Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or any of its wonderful characters. I think it is kind of obvious.
She was sick of trying to be perfect at everything.
And yet she couldn't stop.
Couldn't stop…
Couldn't stop…
Everything in her life was perfect.
That was really the only word that was ever on her mind.
She had to wake up every morning at exactly the right time. Her hair had to be brushed back just right. Her clothes couldn't even have the slightest of wrinkles. Every morning, the make-up brushes caressed her cheeks, and sometimes she would stand in front of the mirror for long periods of time before she was finally satisfied with the ways things looked.
She was always in class at exactly the right time. She was never late and never early, especially since now she rode her own car to school – a brand-new Toyota Camry with a glossy black paint job and no scratches.
She had to know exactly what her schedule was every day, and where she would be every second of every minute of every hour.
Her agenda wasn't the only thing that was flawless. She had a perfect 4.0. All her teachers loved her. So did the students – or at least, they appeared to, or else she probably wouldn't be president of her senior class with over a thousand friends on Facebook (pretty much everyone in the school). Not to mention she was also head cheerleader, which meant every single afternoon was occupied for a few hours by practice. Or she had been, anyway, up until a few months ago, when she quit for reasons she hadn't told anyone.
A perfect girl has to have the perfect boyfriend.
He was the quarterback on the football team, which made him desirable for every girl in the school. He brushed off all their flirts and gifts, though. He wasn't the smartest, but he was enough. And every day he would linger by her locker, exchanging a few kisses and whispering compliments and professions of love in her ear.
The list just went on and on.
Yes, Quinn Fabray had a dream of a life – something that most girls envied. The few enemies she had were simply jealous of her, her boyfriend, her grades.
If only they knew.
Quinn carefully inserted the key into the hole, taking note of every action that made the lock spring open. She placed her hand on the door-knob, putting slight pressure down and pushing it forward.
As usual, there was no one home. Mother would be home around 7, and Father…
Well, Father wasn't around anymore.
She walked through the hallway, passing faded photos on the wall. She used to stare at the memories of the past for hours, dreaming of a happier time when she had a daddy that would pick her up and spin her all around. When she didn't have so many things expected of her until all her obligations piled up on her shoulders and threatened to pull her under. When she was a part of something that she actually wanted to be part of – a family.
She still did.
Her bag dropped down to the ground, all her books clattering against the wood. Her eyes trailed across the dusty frames that forever sealed a time that she barely even remembered. There she was, wearing a cute little dress and pedaling a tricycle, or throwing around a plastic ball. Her mother was still radiant, back in those forgotten years.
There was her father, his youthful smiling face forever fated to appear only in old, almost-forgotten pictures with bent creases in the corner.
Quinn's eyes filled with tears.
She was rooted to the spot for a long time before she finally found it in herself to move.
Four years ago was when it all started.
When everything fell apart…
She sighed as she closed the bedroom door behind her. She locked it just in case her mother came home early. Highly unlikely, but it was always good to be cautious.
What she was about to do was not for her mother's eyes.
She pulled her blouse over her head, standing in front of her full-length mirror.
Quinn stood before her reflection, and her soul was just as naked as she.
Everything she had ever built for herself depended on this moment – when she would finally be as perfect as she wanted to be.
Perfect…
There was a voice, and that was all it ever whispered to her.
Perfect… Perfect…
Perfect…
The tears came to her eyes again – but this time they were tears of relief.
Because after months and years of first vomiting, then starving, she had finally achieved the body that would make her beautiful beyond imagining.
She brought her trembling hands up to her ribcage, not feeling the bones that threatened to poke through frail skin. All she felt was beauty.
In the mirror she was healthy. She had finally gotten rid of the bad.
Now she was only staring at the good…
Now there would be no more pain. She could stop, finally stop giving in.
Not perfect.
Not yet.
Don't you see?
That?
On your stomach?
It's bad.
Get rid of it.
Get rid of it get rid of it get rid of it
And now the tears of relief turned into despair that rain freely down her cheeks. She clutched her sides and sobbed, sobbed, sobbed.
Quinn fell backward.
At least there was a bed there… Her bed, she had to remind herself. The bed she spent five minutes smoothing the covers of every morning.
She curled into a ball, tried to drown the voice out, tried to tell herself that there was nothing more she had to do, that the pain that was now a constant companion could finally be gone.
She failed.
Miserably.
After the longest time, when her pillow was soaked with her tears, she uncurled painfully. Her mascara had run, she knew, and she probably looked like a mess. That could be easily remedied later. Right now she had to put on something, anything, before her mother could come home and see how ugly she was.
So she got up, smoothed the covers one last time, straightened her pillow, and stumbled to her closet.
Quinn knew, from years of masking her weaknesses from the world, what would hide her body the most. Baggy clothes were excellent. She pulled on old sweats, a ratty T-shirt. A sweatshirt went on, for good measure. Not the prettiest of clothes, but she thought it was appropriate to dress the way she felt.
She stared at her cheerleading uniform, which was hanging in the closet. She had been almost happy when she was forced to quit the squad. It was tiring work, making sure that no one saw how disgustingly overweight she was. To quit had been to lift another burden off her shoulders.
But then, she had had to give up the only thing that was dear to her heart, the only thing that she had ever felt a true part of…
Well. Either way, now her job was so much easier. It was so much easier to paint on that mask of perfection and hide her insecurities away, without having to reveal her arms and legs. She tried to convince herself that her limbs were perfectly normal, and that the only thing that was wrong was that they were much too fat.
So what if they were covered by those horrible purplish splotches? Those were easily taken care of. That was what make-up and long-sleeved clothes were for.
So what if her palms were always that yellow-orange color? No one noticed her palms anyway… And there were always gloves…
So what if her hair was starting to thin out? And her breasts were starting to shrink? What if she was always cold? What if she wished sometimes that she could crawl into a hole and just lay there and maybe even die?
What if what if what if
It was a miracle no one had noticed. It helped that she made sure Sam never embraced her for too long.
She claimed it was because of what had happened four years ago.
He still believed her. He still loved her, even though under all the careful layers she had built around herself she was not as flawless as people believed.
She didn't deserve him.
Her love for him didn't make up for her lies.
Because, even though what she said was, in a way, the truth, what had happened was no longer the only reason why she shied away from all human touch.
Not perfect…
Still…
Not perfect…
The next day, Quinn walked in school looking like she felt wonderful.
All the signs of yesterday's break down had been brushed away. Her clothes appeared to fit her figure fabulously. Her make-up was impeccable, as usual, covering up the bruise-like rings under her eyes and her gaunt cheeks. Nothing could disguise how red her eyes were, though, or how her hands trembled as she put her books in her locker.
Sam noticed.
"Baby, what's wrong?" he murmured to her soothingly, concern flashing across his face. He reached for her shoulders, perhaps to massage them, but she pulled away.
"What makes you think I'm not okay?" she said, but her voice gave her away; the confidence wavered, and a little bit of her despair trickled in. "Don't I look beautiful?"
"You are the most beautiful girl I have ever known," Sam replied with conviction. "Nobody in the school or in the town could ever compare."
If only he knew, she cried silently. If only he knew how ugly I am.
"But these past few weeks, you haven't been touching me, or answering any of my texts, or talking to me, besides at school. You've refused all my invitations to go out to dinner. You're pushing me away."
Each of his words drove home, and she felt like a stake was being driven into her heart.
"You want to break up with me?" Her lower lip trembled.
"God, no! What makes you think that?" Sam said, his expression shocked. "I… I just want to love you like I did before. Let me love you. At least, let me hug you."
He reached his arms out, and the voice was screaming to push him away again. But she was tired of doing it, tired of pushing him away, tired of pushing everyone away. All the will left her body, and she let him pull her into her arms. What did it matter if someone found out?
She felt his muscles freeze around her.
He knows.
"Quinn?" His voice sounded panicked. "You feel… so… skinny… Are you…"
Don't say the a word. Don't say it.
"Anorexic?"
One word was enough to make her break down.
"I'm so sorry," she sobbed, crying into his warm chest. God, it felt good to be able to take in his scent again. "I'm so sorry."
"Sorry for what? What do you have to be sorry for?"
"For… for not being perfect enough for you… for everybody…"
"What the hell, Quinn?" he said angrily, taking her shoulders and pushing her back so that he could see her face.
"I knew you'd be mad."
"Is that what you thought? That you weren't perfect enough? Is that why you… did this to yourself?" His voice sounded strangled.
She simply nodded.
"Quinn… You never had to change for me, or for anybody. Nobody's perfect, and nobody expects that of you, or of anyone, for that matter. When did this start?"
"A few months ago," she whispered. "Two weeks before I quit cheerleading."
The real beginning was when her father had died. That was when she had started to feel like she wasn't worth anything, because she wasn't perfect enough. That was when the vomiting had started. When she had carried her baby, she had been able to stop for a while, motivated by the idea that she was carrying another human being. She should have known it would have taken a lot more to stop permanently.
The starving had just happened. It felt natural, and it had been so easy to incorporate it into her routine those few months ago. So easy to drink a whole quart of water before each meal, so that she could eat less. So easy to let her diet dwindle to almost nothing.
"Quinn, we need to get you help."
That had been her biggest fear, that she would be shoved in front of a long line of therapists and told comforting lies. But she found she didn't care anymore. She just wanted to stop feeling worthless.
She just wanted to feel like herself again.
"Oh my god… I can't believe I didn't know…"
He brought her in for another hug, and she was glad that he was there to hold her together.
Well, that's the end of it. Thanks for sticking around. It would be kind of you to leave a review behind, even if it's criticism. I welcome all.