Beca had always separated her life into two chapters; Before Chloe and After Chloe.

She much preferred After Chloe.

Before Chloe

Before Chloe, Beca's life had been a mess. She was born months early and was forced to live in a machine at the hospital until she could stay alive on her own. Growing up, her father had been an abusive bastard who was in and out half the time and her mother had turned to alcohol to help her cope with her husband's abuse. Due to her parents negligence, Beca had taught herself many things - how to tie her shoes, how to make herself food, how to throw a frisbee, etc. - but the one thing her parents did teach her was how to lower expectations.

It was her sixth birthday, and Beca had woken up to the sound of screaming. She watched helplessly from the safety of the stairs as her father screamed at her drunken mother.

At the time she hadn't known what "alcoholic," or "divorce," meant. What she did understand was that her parents were unhappy and it was probably her fault.

She had crawled back into her bed after that, the sound of her father slamming the door behind him echoing in her ears. She'd cried herself to sleep, wondering why she couldn't make her parents happy anymore.

The self hatred that had started to form in her at that age only grew as she did, resting in the pit of her stomach and making her a quiet, reserved girl. She didn't have many friends, choosing instead to stick by the side of a kind boy named Jesse who didn't seem to mind her silent actions or dark demeanor.

She'd found Jesse in sixth grade, and for that she was grateful. Jesse protected her - he was her mouthpiece, her way of communicating. If she didn't want to do something, he would sit out with her, and if she needed something to be said, he was right there. He didn't force her to talk, nor did he try to coax the words out of her. Sometimes he would do all the talking. Sometimes they would lay together on her bedroom floor, silently listening to her mother's nonsensical conversations with people nobody else could see.

She wasn't altogether silent, although she was noticeably more quiet than everyone else in her age group. She didn't talk to people she didn't know, and she didn't even acknowledge the ones she didn't like. It made her life simpler to keep her world whitelisted, only letting in the people she trusted. There was no point in talking to the others, she knew. They would just tease her or try to make her open up.

Jesse wasn't an idiot. He knew he couldn't help his friend any more than she wanted him to. So he did what any clueless 14 year old would do to help his friend. He turned to the internet.

In his extremely unprofessional opinion, Beca suffered from extreme social anxiety and was bordering on selective mutism. He'd shown her everything he'd found, and she'd just nodded and thanked him for not telling anyone. And when he was basically her only friend, the only one who cared about her, really cared, how could he break her trust?

He had been the one to get her interested in mixing music. A few nights at his house watching YouTube videos of different artists and DJs touring around the world, and she had been hooked. Jesse had given her his father's old mixing board, and they'd quickly downloaded software and music for her to work with. She was amazing. She outshone Jesse after a single week holed up in her room with her laptop and mixer, and they could both see she had a talent.

By the time they were in eighth grade, along with the power of music, Beca had discovered the power of self harm. She'd stumbled upon a box of plastic razors in her mom's bathroom, and carefully brought them back to her room. It had taken a whole hour for her to figure out how to break the plastic shell off of the precious blade, but when she held the tiny scrap of metal between her fingers and sliced at her skin, she knew everything she'd gone through to get to the pain had been worth it.

She didn't tell Jesse about the cutting, though she didn't try too hard to hide it. He would find out eventually, she reasoned, and who cared? She trusted him. He was part of her world. So when he pulled up her sleeve and began to chastise, she didn't react.

Jesse had tried for two straight months to get her to stop, and when he realized she wouldn't be helped, he started to accept the fact that she liked the pain. He kept a first aid kit in his room for cleaning her cuts, and even went so far as to make one for her and show her how to use it. She thanked him quietly whenever he bandaged her arms, and he would always reply the same way.

"Thank you for not going too far."

The self harm had sustained her through her first few years of high school. It had kept the bullies' voices at bay, and kept the harsh words of her teachers away from her ears. There was a group of advisors who accepted her for who she was - a small, silent girl with a bodyguard who would do anything to protect her - and there was a group who kept trying to fix her.

They had signed her up for the school therapist, and that was when Beca knew she had to get them to stop.

So she found a fake smile convincing enough to keep her out of therapy, and she began to use it throughout her school day. Jesse helped by becoming her fake boyfriend, every so often giving her a kiss on the cheek or a quick side hug. Beca had made it very clear that they were fake dating, nothing more, and he had agreed.

He'd be lying if he said he never felt anything for the small brunette, but she'd quickly told him that she wasn't interested in men, and they'd moved on.

With college right around the corner, both Beca and Jesse were nervous. They'd been friends for seven years, and now the monster that was college was threatening to tear them apart. Until a godsend scholarship from Beca's father had arrived, and they'd packed their bags for Barden University.

Beca had ridden to Barden with him, mixing equipment thrown in a bag in the back of their taxi. He'd held her hand the entire way there, deflecting the driver's questions with simple answers and shakes of his head.

They arrived at Barden early, and Jesse had opted to help her unpack. He set up her equipment on her side of the dorm while she hung posters from the walls and threw her clothes on hangers,

"There's an activities fair." He had suggested when they were done setting up. "We could go meet people."

Beca shook her head, but Jesse wasn't going for it. "If you're gonna be at this college, you're gonna need more than one friend." He'd reasoned. "Come on, Becs. This could be really good for you."

She'd begrudgingly allowed him to lead her down to the commons (only after he'd promised to pay for pizza for the next two weeks) and she fell in step behind him as he searched through the clubs.

"Beca, look." He'd pointed towards a group of boys in posh looking clothes singing characteristically by the entrance. "Those are the Barden Treblemakers. They're the best a capella team in school."

Beca had grinned at his excitement. "You can go." She'd said quietly. "I'll be fine."

"Really?" Jesse glanced between her and the Trebles. "Okay, but just for a bit. Don't go too far, okay?"

Beca rolled her eyes and lightly shoved him towards the singers. "You're the best!" She'd heard him call as he jogged towards the singers.

She had glanced around nervously, eyes finally coming to a stop as she caught the gaze of a perky redhead. The girl smiled happily, turning to the taller blonde next to her.

"What about her?" Beca heard.

"I don't know. She looks a little… Alternative for our taste." The blonde replied.

Beca watched the redhead wave her over. She cautiously took a few steps towards their table.

"Hi!" The redhead greeted her excitedly. "I'm Chloe. Do you wanna join our a capella team?"