Full Blood

AU.

No, I don't own glee.

Summary: A school for half bloods. Creatures whom are strong, brave, sagacious, vindictive yet purposeful, the essence of power. And then there are myths, tales that are as old as time.

2. Scars are everlasting


She feels darkness penetrate her body. Voices all around her screaming, yelling. Clashes of metal hit each other letting the sounds roam through the air. Vague body's hold their grounds, trying not to fall under the enormous pressure they feel. Yet some seem to weaken and lose control. As result, falling.. The ground being their only substantiality as their heartbeat stops and their heads hit the land. However, during their time of what seems as fighting, she sees herself. Blood dripping from her head.

Her body feels cold, and her bones seem to shiver. It feels as if death has taken over her body and hostage her soul. Yet she's still alive and well to see a dark shadow stand before her. It's hand that had seemingly just struck her. Solely it didn't touch her face, instead it released something she has never seen before. Darkness she presumes, for all she sees is blackness. And all she feels is pain, leading her whole body to feel numb by it's will, by somebody or something.

Something had done this to her, not knowing who or what it is. Doesn't even know where she is, the world being too vague, to be seen. However, her body soon starts revealing itself, pronouncing her presence, young and little. Her features shining through the dark, vaguely, setting. Her figure just small enough to fit in a person's arms. Just cute enough to let a human smile, and light enough to not notice you're carrying her. Innocent, is the best word to define her.

Nevertheless her innocents, she still has been attacked, badly, awfully. The pain shooting to her core, burning her with just a swift movement.

It hurts, badly. Her head hurts, and everything in her body seems to stiffen under this kind of power. She wants to cry, and scream. Wanting to reveal her troubles, and she tries, she's doing it. Her lips open and she screams, hard. The blood leaping in her mouth, sliding down her lips and stopping at her chin. More seem to fall with it, pushing the rest of the blood that laid upon her chin to her neck. Sliding slowly, weakly, along her neck. Itching her, but she can't seem to scratch it, she can't seem to do anything but cry.

And she screams louder, harder. Begging for someone to help her, but no words seem to get out. She's too tiny, too unknown in this world to show her pain, clearly. Crying is her only way to communicate. Words are out of the question.

She can't see the causer of her pain, but she does see it's eyes. It's face grisly vague, just like the rest of the people around her. It's rage blackening it's pupils. A cold sensation leaving it's body, it's eyes. And with mere a tiny look she can already see those eyes showing it's mere insides, it's soulless body.. Or even anesthetic. The eyes relating it's pain, anger and hurt. All that seemed to be directed to her, allowing her to ask herself why something like that would be so malicious against her.

Was she truthfully the one who let it rage like this?

She doesn't know the reasons for it's actions, or the raging battle at the background. But she knows one thing, one feeling that can never go unnoticed, the feeling that will go by with her through the path of life, the journey she's bound to take, and somehow feels real. She calls it pain. It's a sentiment she desperately wants to escape, but it doesn't matter how hard she tries or how much force she puts in herself to run away, she is still tangled at the same spot. Detained on her current place.

And she tries wiggling her arms, moving them everywhere. But it seems to have no effect. She tries crying, even talking. But the words don't seem to get out. The sentences she wants to reveal to the world refuses to egress.

However, they rather declare themselves in screams.


Heavy breathing inflate the once silent room, screams following it's lead. Rachel shudders under the severe pressure, sweat leaking from her pores as she snatches her eyes open. She feels her clothing stick against her body, the wetness oozing through her shirt. She breaths in and out, her heart unequally beating and too fast for her health. She grabs her forehead tightly, sensing that the pain is still present.

It's just a nightmare she tells herself. It's just a dream.

She parts her lips slightly, letting the air escape her mouth and invade her room. She tries to hold herself steady, hoping that if she thinks of peaceful things that she might come to ease once again. But no such thing seems to happen, instead fear has found it's way in her, and doesn't seem to want to part ways just yet.

She positions herself on her bed, pushing her body up with her hands so she could sit on the mattress. Rachel grabs her blanket tightly, making sure that it wouldn't fall of her body and land upon the floor. She's too frightened to stand up, and letting her 'safety barrier' fall down would mean that she has to do the thing she fears the most. Thus she pulls her blanket up to her neck holding this close against her skin. Fearing that something might attack her, and that the blanket is the only thing that can protect her from harm.

Since she was a little girl she has had the same need to use her blanket in this particular way. Therefor she has made this as her habit, every now and then when a nightmare would occur, she would use her blanket as her protection. Rachel knows that a thin cotton dean wouldn't stop a bullet or any other painful object, however, it still seemed to ease her fear just a bit. She always felt the need to have something upon her to make her become less discernible.

Rachel closes her eyes, but fears to fall back to sleep. Scared that the nightmare would once again feel authentic, and seemingly real, even though if it isn't.

She keeps telling herself it isn't.

Her heartbeat finally decelerates, and the room once again roams in silence. She opens up her eyes. Hearing mere her breathing levitate in the room, the only sound to not go unnoticed. It haunts her.. Taunting her and letting her remember what just occurred in her dreams. And therewithal her head still hurts. Aching her up to her core. She remembers the fortitude hitting her head, passing through her skin and touching her cranium, implanting itself on her flesh. Revealing then a thin open wound, a scar. Rachel felt her untouched skin unfold, screeching softly, however, unheard for the others around her. But loud and clear for her young tender ears.

She keeps asking herself how a dream can do such a thing to her, and make mere a fantasy feel so real.

According to her psychiatrist her seemingly real nightmares are mere frictions of her imagination. He has told her that the mind falls so deeply in it's dreams that it starts thinking that it genuinely happens to it's body. When it actually doesn't.

Rachel doubts that his words are correct, however hopes that he is right.

She hears soft footsteps coming up, with every pace becoming louder. Rachel knows that her fathers have awaken, fully tired of doing the same routine every night. But still doing this just so they can check up on their daughter. Showing her their eternal love. She therefor doesn't even judge them for coming up when her outcry's have long ago died down. In their defense they have done this way too often, and have heard her cry out the same things, over and over again. Mostly about the same dream.

Sooner or later weariness would adopt their body's by doing the same routine every night.

Allowing them to come and see if she's well, when they definitely need sleep makes her feel like a hypocrite. As if to say; 'If I go down, you will come with me' and indeed her fathers do.

She wishes they didn't though.

When she was younger it was worst. Rachel would frequently cry for hours before she would stop, telling her fathers about the pain she felt, the things she saw and everything that somehow felt too real to be ignored. Her dreams had gone so far that she had one day awaken with blood upon her head (ask her psychiatrist if that was mere a friction of the imagination). At the same specific spot of her very foreseeable scar. Liquid dripping from the previous healed mark, stinging her with all it's might. Rachel thinks that every time her scar opens or ache's her that it's symbolizing her something. Maybe her dreams contain memories of the past, perhaps something deeper.

If only she knew a thing or two about her past, or anything that happened when she was born. However, no one would ever remember it's birth. Something like that is too big to be remembered by a small child who has yet to discover the world. And yet to have a fully evolved brain.

But why does she then behold herself in her dreams as a newly born? Experiencing a moment she has never known about. She was, before, too young to remember such a large occurrence, but still gets dreams of herself when she was merely a day old, perhaps a week. And that is nearly impossible, no- it is impossible. Perhaps it's her mind making things up and playing tricks on her.

Though if that was the case, she wouldn't still be getting the same dream over and over again at the age of sixteen.

Rachel desperately wants to believe that her nightmares are mere nightmares, and that the psychiatrist her fathers have sent her to, which she has been visiting for over a year now, is right. However, she can't commit herself to believe such a statement.

Even if she tried.

Her door smashes open, a ray of light entering the once darkened room. She gazes at the vehement lightning, letting it burn her sight. She barley blinks as she then focuses at the two body's. Two honorable parents wearing striped pajamas. Both seem to be very tired and neither look at all too worried about the daughter who's currently curled up in her bed.

Her face is pale and her eyes slightly dark, her structure looks weary as she sits beneath her blankets. Strangely the whole scenario doesn't seem a bit intriguing for the two fathers.

''Did you have another nightmare, honey?'' Her daddie Leroy walks up to her bed, seating his self by her toes. He smiles gently at her, assuring her that he does care. ''You want to talk about it?'' Rachel's shorter father Hiram walks around her bed seating his body next to hers. He puts his hand on her head as he strokes her dark soft hair, letting his fingers grace around her long strands.

''Yes, I am fine.'' She swallows tightly, ''It was just a nightmare.. Again. But I assure you that I'm okay.'' She forces a smile, determined to let her fathers leave. Rachel knows that they can't help her in this matter. Knowing that she can barley help herself, she doubts that another can do it better.

''Do you want us to make another appointment with Dr. Stephen?'' He refers to her psychiatrist, ''you don't have to go to school either, if that is what you prefer most.''

Rachel shakes her head, ''Thank you daddie, but I will go to school.'' She considers if it would be a good idea to go to Dr. Stephen. Maybe going to him wouldn't help her situation, it never has. But she finds it nice to talk to somebody about her nightmares. Rachel believes it's better to talk about it, then to hold it in and let it eat you alive. ''I think it would be a great idea to talk to Dr. Stephen, perhaps I need somebody to discourse with.''

Hiram smiles, ''are you sure you don't want to talk to us about it? We might help you better.'' He stops stroking her hair as he waits for a reaction.

''I- No.'' She shakes her head. ''I do have a question.''

''Anything.'' Leroy say's.

''When I was younger..'' She bites her lip, ''I had asked you and dad where I had received this scar I have. But neither of you seemed to give me a proper answer.''

''We had told you that we didn't know.'' She nods. ''As you know honey,'' Hiram continues. ''You are.. adopted, and we don't keep any secrets so this isn't anything that is new to you. Although, when we had gotten you, you had that scar.'' He points towards her forehead.

''I thought it was pretty cute.'' Leroy laughs softly. ''It made you look different then the others.''

''Thus, neither you or daddie knows how this has befallen upon me?'' She gazes at the two fathers beside her.

''Sadly, that is the truth. But if we did knew we would have told you. No one wants to have something on their skin that would probably have happened due to an accident, and not know how it precisely occurred. We assumed that your birth mother or father dropped you on the head.'' Hiram pauses. ''Why do you ask sweetheart?''

''I just- I think I just wanted to know a bit more about it. That is all.'' She brushes their question of without giving a further explanation. ''I think I can sleep now daddies.''

Both fathers stand up, casting her a last smile.

''Maybe you can ask Shannon Beiste about your scar.'' Leroy says as he walks towards the doorway. ''We remembered that according to the adoption papers she is like your, auntie. Not biologic though.''

''If I may ask daddie. Why didn't Shannon adopt me but had left me for adoption?'' Rachel hopes that they won't assume that she was trying to offend them by taking her in their home. She thereby loves them with her whole heart. For her, in her eyes they are her only real parents despite not having the same blood.

Although they didn't seem offended at all. ''No worriers honey,'' Leroy stops at the doorway, Hiram standing right next to him. ''According to Shannon she would love to still be a part of your life, that's why you see her nearly everyday, at your school, here at this house. However, she said and if I recall her words correctly, she had said that she would rather want you to have a normal life. And she didn't think she could provide for that well enough.'' He shrugs, ''of course we took her proposal gladly, if we could just have you in our arms.'' Leroy smiles, remembering Rachel when she was just a few moths old. ''You were so cute and little, and we loved you at first sight.''

''Just like now,'' Hiram adds.

''Yes, just like now.'' Leroy smiles. ''Does this answer your questions dear?'' Rachel nods. ''Good, then try to get some sleep. It's good for your voice, and we all know that you wouldn't want to try anything to jeopardize your chances at becoming a star.''

''Yes, you are certainly right. Good night daddy. Good night dad.'' Both fathers bid their good nights as they leave the bedroom, closing the door behind them and taking away the only light that had enter within her room. She gazes at the door, looking at it as it closes softly. Leaving her once again alone.

She pulls the blankets of her body, feeling the cold air impinged her skin, blowing it's soft breeze through her still wet clothes. She pushes her body to the edge of her bed and lets her legs dangle above the floor. She takes in a deep breath before letting her feet touch the save floor beneath her, feeling the soft carpet between her toes.

Though she can't deny the fear that has come upon her by making this movement. But having decided that she will go to school in the morning, this motion is needed.

Her head still hurts, still aches. Her forehead burns, still feeling the pain from her dream shooting through her brain. She knows going to school like this, will only provoke questions. And thus, to leave all that aside, she has to, must, walk to her bathroom and grab a few aspirins that may help her with this struggle. And keep the questions aside.

She steppes away from her bed and walks towards her bathroom door. Putting her hand on the door handle before pulling it open. She steppes inside of the room and closes the door behind her.

She's walking directly towards the mirror, staring at the reverberant glass, smiling at her. Mimicking her features on it. She stops right in front of the mirror. Looking at it, looking at herself. Gazing back at her facial expression, the weariness haunting her features.

Her fingers grace upon her cheek before roaming upwards. Going deliberately slow. Her nail itching her on it's way to her forehead.

Her index finger stops at the right side of her head, pushing away the strands of her pony. Slowly, baring her forehead completely. Her finger shifts an inch to the right, touching the scar with merely a finger. Pushing just a bit on it.

She gazes at herself in the mirror as her finger mimics the line on her forehead. Touching the mark softly. Closing her eyes she thinks of the pain that came upon her in the dream. The fortitude, hitting her, aching her. Feeling, so, so real.

Rachel shakes her head viciously, the pony falling back on it's place and hiding the scar, once more. ''You can't do this to yourself, Rachel.'' She's looking back at her reflection, at her pale contrast. ''Don't condemn yourself like this. It's just a mark, nothing more.'' Her lips quiver, her mind disbelieving her. ''There's nothing abaft a scar.''

She stands on her tiptoes and opens the cabinet, searching with her eyes for the aspirins needed. Her hand pushes away multifaceted of pharmaceuticals before finding the ones she needs at the back. She takes them out and closes the cabinet. Going back at standing on both her feet.

Her fingers take out two little aspires out of the box. The white drugs haunting her little palm, eating her vision.

Her head cups back up to the mirror, eyes connecting with eyes.

Why is she even hesitating to take the drugs?

Perhaps she's scared that these medicines will not help her for the thing that bothers her the most; her mental state.

She shakes her head. There is no time to reflect about such things. Over a few hours she will be going back to school, and sleep is needed.

Rachel takes a cup from the cabinet and turns on the sink. Letting the water fall into the cup, and shutting it down after the water haunts at the edge. She straightens her back before the mirror and gazes back at her reflection.

She's not going to hesitate now.

Closing her eyes she puts the two aspirins in her mouth and drinks halve of the cup. Swallowing the aspirins whole.

Her eyes flutter open, as she meets her reflection once again. Her lips are parted, the color of her face drained.

And she just, stares.


Rachel walks past her car, thrusting her feet forward into the asphalt. She passes several of cars on her way to the two way doors. Knowingly that the cars belong to her fellow peers and teachers. She tears her gaze away from the vehicles and instead focuses on her emerging destination. With her head held high and her trolley bag pack at her back, she has a feeling that today could go good. And not like the other day's where she would hide behind lockers to prevent a slushy from attacking her. Today she has a feeling that it could go better.

Perhaps the reason for her natural smile is that today she wouldn't be having any classes with her tormentors. And could go harassment free. Although she might still see them during recess and the occasionally walking through the halls. Nevertheless, Rachel can perfectly take care of herself during her free periods. Fortunately she would also have a teacher walk with her through these troubles, too.

Shannon Beiste was always near her when trouble occurred. Rachel doesn't know how she does it, but when one of her bullies wants (tries) to attack her Shannon would always be there. Although she might come late at times. She still, somehow, manages to make her feel good.

That has to mean something, she only doesn't know, what.

She is always a perfectly sweet honorable student. Always having straight 'A's, helping her fellow peers when they were in need.

Perhaps at times she could be a bit too full of herself when she would talk about her star rising dreams. But that isn't a reason to hurt a person arduously. Which has been befallen upon her, countless of times. It also was extremely extraneous when those cruel students attacked her. And the two children who would act out on her the most where in the football team.

Shannon has told them various of times to stop their torments, and even threatened them with suspension. However, when they agreed that no such thing would occur again, it would happen once more.

And strangely, Shannon couldn't do much about it.

Rachel doesn't blame her, though.

They are the ones who lead the football team to it's victory, losing them, means losing the team.

It's strange, though. After all the warnings they have received, they still kept torturing her.

It comes to the point that they don't even seem to care anymore. Their treatment only increases far more. She's starting to get slushies three times a day, her books being smashed out of her hands every time she passes them in the hallway, loser being called out at her, everywhere she goes. Even threats are finding it's way to her locker, written on a piece of paper in her favorite pink ballpoint she had lost weeks ago.

She doesn't even dare to tell Shannon, afraid of what they can or will do.

She arrives in front of the doors, taking in a deep breath before pushing it open. Already feeling her happiness diminish by the seconds.

She walks through the doors, stepping inside of the school. Rachel closes her eyes and breaths in, she cups her head up high before strutting through the halls. Looking straight ahead. Determined, and with a smile plastered on her face.

Relieve sweeps along her as she sees that her bullies aren't standing near her locker. Giving her the time needed to gather her books and go to class. However, as she accelerates in her steps and her focus attached on her locker, a body steps in front of her, blocking her way.

''Rachel,'' she focuses her gaze at the person before her. Feeling her smile brighten. ''I wanted to talk to you.''

''Of course, coach Beiste.'' At school Rachel calls Shannon the same way every other student does, it's merely appropriate. ''Is there anything I can do for you?''

Coach Beiste smiles, ''it's not the matter of fact, if you can do something for me. But if you can wait for me after school.''

Rachel raises her eyebrows, cupping her head slightly lop-sided. ''I would, but I have an appointment with Dr. Stephen.''

''You do? Why?'' Shannon always seems to have interest in Rachel's whereabouts and what occurs in her life. It makes Rachel feel loved that there are other people attentive about her. Not only does she have her fathers, but also Shannon. And knowing that she was abandoned by her birth mother and father, she feels cherished among the ones who do care.

''Another incubus.'' Rachel shrugs, letting it seem as if it's the commonest thing ever. ''Daddie and Dad thought that it would be a proper idea for me to have a little discourse with Dr. Stephen. And I agreed.''

Shannon purses her lips, ''what was the dream about?''

''The same dream I always receive.''

''..About the scar?'' Shannon continued, her face somehow unreadable.

''Yes..'' Rachel waves her hand, brushing the subject off. ''I'm use to it, I just need to talk to my psychiatrist. And all will be fine...'' She smiles. ''So, why do I have to wait for you after school?'' Rachel gazes back at Shannon, looking at her face that seems to reflect about something, her eyes staying steady, unmovable. Lately Rachel noticed that Shannon was thinking way too often. Mostly when they were talking she seemed to shut herself off. Leaving Rachel to wonder what was actually going on in Shannon's mind.

''Yes.. Uhm'' Shannon shakes her head, the whistle around her neck moving to the right and left. ''Just make sure that you wait for me before leaving, and we will go together.''

''But, I'm with my car.''

''Then we will leave your car here today, and take mine.''

Rachel folds her arms around her chest, squeezing her eyes to slits. ''What is so important that you need to talk to me about?''

''Just make sure that you wait for me, and don't discourse with anybody you don't know.'' Her eyes stay fixated upon Rachel as she puts her hand on her shoulder. ''And about the dreams,'' Shannon smiles reassuringly. ''Don't worry about them, it will make sense, when you get older.'' Shannon squeezes her shoulder, whereupon she pulled her hand away and walked down the hall. Leaving Rachel to her thoughts.

She turns around, revolving her back fully, to see Shannon walking past the lockers before making a turn right and disappearing from her sight.

She sighs, letting her arms fall from her chest. Words like these make no sense to her.

Rachel turns back around continuing her movement to her locker. But as she does this motion her eyes behold the sight she desperately wished for not to see. However, being the determined diva that she is, she refuses to let something as viscous as two football players stand in her way.

She continues her steps to her locker not even sparing a second glance at the two guys before her.

''Hello Berry, looking good.'' Rachel sighs, trying to push herself to her locker, attempting to show no fear and take her books out of her rightful property. Although with the two football players standing before her and blocking the road to her locker this gesture seems have some road blocks.

''What a pleasant surprise, Karofsky.'' She crosses her arms around her chest, sarcasm dripping from every word. ''Surely I have done nothing wrong today, or have I?''

''Well, just existing is wrong in our eyes.'' She turns her head to his companion at his left. ''We just wanted to remind you that not being with you in the same class today, doesn't mean that you won't get a little treat from us.''

''While I appreciated your forcefulness Azimio, I would value if you let me get my books.'' She forces a smile. ''I won't be any trouble.'' She tries pushing her way to her locker once again, but Karofsky acts fast and takes her wrist in his hand, making her stop this motion. ''Do not touch me, Dave.''

''What are you going to do? Call auntie Beistie on us?'' Azimio makes a swift turn as he walks to her back, he bents his body so his head would lie inches away from her ear. ''Today is a special day, Rachel.'' She feels shivers run down her spine as his words infiltrate her body.

Never has she felt more nauseous then at this moment. Not even when she had participate in a drinking game. ''Today we are going to have some fun.'' She hears the laughter in his soft voice. Only to be left with a sickening feeling in her stomach. ''But we won't make fun now, too many witnesses.'' His hand comes lying upon her cheek. Leading her to tense up underneath his rough touch, feeling both weak and vulnerable.

''I suggest that you give me my well earned space.'' She uses her left hand, to pull her wrist out of Karofsky's hold. ''You both disgust me, and I rather want you and Dave to stay out of my way.'' She turns around so her eyes could meet with Azimio. ''And as for you. You- you.. Pig,'' She points her finger at his chest. ''Unless you want to meet with my lawyers I suggest that you leave the threats aside. I can ensure you and your little friend that those threats will give both of you legally problems.'' She steps back. ''And I am Rachel berry...'' Her face turns serious, showing nothing but determination. ''I can make it happen.''

However the boy's don't seem at all scared, she even despises a little smile tugging at the corner of Karofsky's face. ''We are not scared for.. Legal lawsuits.'' Those bastards.. ''I think that you should be scared for us.'' Karofsky walks closer, invading her personal space once more. Gaining her to step back, with every step that he takes. Holding her head up high to look in his eyes, but unfortunately her body comes in osculation with the lockers behind her. Showing her that she has reached the end of her path. ''And not even coach Beiste can help you now.'' His smile seems so dangerous. And his eyes are so dark. It makes her wonder how a human can look so evil.

His hand leaves his body and comes lying upon her cheek. Rachel turns her face to the side, in order to let him know that she doesn't enjoy the touching. ''It was just a matter of time, Rachel...'' The shivers run upon her body once more, and she can't help but feel his words deep in her soul.

When did silly bullying become this serious?

''Why are you doing this?'' She whispers. ''What have I every done to deserve this?''

Azimio pulls Karofsky away, holding his arm tightly. ''It's just fun to provoke you.'' He pulls Karofsky to his side. Tearing the boy away from Rachel and starting to walk down the hall. ''Not now,'' he hisses to his friend, seeing him gaze back at Rachel. ''We have time for that later.'' Karofsky merely nods, for he knows that they will have time for it later.

Her breath hitches in her throat as she hears her peers stalk off. The larger bodies evaporating from her location.

Rachel is (and will always be) a strong confident girl. Wise, smart and endearing, no matter what others say. Her bravery will always be shown throughout her body and her eyes will always have such a spark, only proving her determination. She always believed that when she gained her star rising dreams, her bullies would be only part of her past. Just small memories, of a teenage nightmare.

But as Rachel revolves her head to the diminishing bodies of her tormentors, she has finally reached the point that everything she believes in, seems no longer intact. And that the memories she will have when growing older, will contain vicious deeds too.

Perhaps when she thought that she was brave and wise and that her life was going to be well in the end, she was holding on to that little friction of her imagination.