The video came to a stop and Quinn sat there, staring at her screen, too stunned to do more than wipe at her eyes. This wasn't possible. No one loved life more than Rachel Berry. She was obsessive about life. She had dreams. She was going to be a Broadway star. She loved… everything. This had to be some kind of joke. Some kind of prank or… something. Right? Just another example of Rachel Berry being super overdramatic yet again. Yet Quinn couldn't get the memory of Rachel saying goodbye to leave her alone. That one word… so simple and so permanent.
Quinn rose from her desk chair, snatching at the keys she'd left laying there since getting home the afternoon before. She wasn't planning on needing them tonight, not with Sam driving them to Puck's "First Day of Christmas Break" party. Puck's parties were legendary for being what Santana referred to as "a drunken mess that's half drunk hookups and half drunk meltdowns". Quinn had been so glad she was going to that rather than… "Oh, God."
She ripped open the door and flew down the steps, shouting at her mom. "Hey, I gotta go! Something's come up! Tell Sam not to worry!" Quinn for a brief moment saw her mom look up from the couch in surprise, but Quinn was already out the door before she could respond.
She started the car, speeding out the driveway with barely a glance to check for oncoming traffic. As Quinn sped away from her house, she thought she passed a confused looking Sam in his truck, but it could have just been her imagination. Even if it was him, she was sure her mom would tell him what she'd said. No, it wasn't the best message to leave, but it would have to do.
God, how could I be so stupid, Quinn thought as she sped down the road towards Rachel's house. How could I not even think about…? I mean, it's not like we're friends or anything, not really, but still. Tonight was Puck's party, but it wasn't the only party she'd been invited to that night.
Right after winning Sectionals, Rachel had given all the girls in the Glee Club an invitation. It was of course overly girly with its pink envelope and pink bows and pink scented paper that had somehow smelled like birthday cake. Quinn had stuck it in the back of her locker, and for an entire week, whenever she opened it, she'd had an intense post-traumatic pregnancy craving for cake.
She'd still forgotten, though. Somehow, even with a weeklong cake scented reminder, Quinn had still forgotten about the diva's birthday. Pushed it into the back of her mind because it wasn't important. She wanted to think that surely, surely, one of the other girls from Glee had gone. Mercedes, maybe. Or Tina. Remembering Rachel's devastated look on the video, though, she knew it wasn't true. Everyone would be at Puck's party soon. Every single person that Rachel Berry thought should be her friend by now, after a year and a half of getting to know each other… all those people had abandoned her on her birthday.
The road was getting blurry, or at least Quinn thought that was the case until she brushed away a couple of tears trying to fall.
Pulling into Rachel's driveway a scant twenty minutes after leaving her own, the house stared down at her ominously. It was smaller than Quinn's own home, but, then again, most of the houses in Lima were. The Berry residence was a simple two story with a basement, and Quinn knew from past experience that Rachel's room was the second window on the right. The memory of the only other time she'd driven there hit Quinn like a hammer, stealing her breath as she got out of her car.
It had been freshman year, near the end of the school year. All the Cheerios had been picking on Rachel on Quinn's orders. She'd also gotten the football team involved by slushee-ing Rachel on a biweekly basis. Rachel had been threatening to go to Coach Sylvester, Coach Tanaka, Principal Figgins, the school board… basically anyone she could to get them in trouble for picking on her. So Quinn had decided to stop the little Jewish girl before that could happen.
She'd been with Santana who had "borrowed" her older brother's truck. Neither of them had a license, but Santana said that since she'd been the one to get the car, Quinn had to drive. They'd stopped a couple of houses over from the Berrys', not wanting to tip anyone in the house off. They had then brought the ladder from the back of the truck to her window, where Quinn had climbed up, peeking over the windowsill periodically. Eventually, some completely inappropriate pictures of Rachel were taken before Quinn and Santana left again.
Rachel had found a copy of one in her locker the next day that showed her lying down on her bed, topless, with a hand in her panties. The note attached said "Never threaten a Cheerio!". Quinn had watched the girl from her own locker, first the shock as she looked around for whoever might have done it, then the embarrassment and shame of being caught like that. She was about to go off crying before one of the football players walked by and slusheed her, driving the point home.
Rachel never told anyone.
Now Quinn was here trying to… what? Save her? Most of the bad things that had happened to Rachel for the first year and a half of her high school life had been because of Quinn. She'd be lucky if the girl even came to the door for her, much less listened to her. What could she say anyway?
It doesn't matter, Quinn thought as she closed her car door and walked towards the door of the house. It doesn't matter what happened in the past. I can't let her do this. I can't.
Quinn pressed the doorbell and heard some melody echo throughout the house. Of course the doorbell would be musical. Knowing Rachel, the whole house would be musical. Rachel overflowed with music. She was an amazing singer, but it was more than that. Quinn would catch her humming in the classes they shared during a test, or would hear her singing softly to herself while they changed into costumes for Glee. It was like she couldn't not be musical. The girl loved music… or, at least, she had until recently. Ever since not getting to sing at Sectionals, Quinn couldn't remember hearing the diva sing anything. Nothing until the video tonight, anyway.
Quinn hit the doorbell again, harder, as if that would make the girl come any faster. Again no one answered, so she hit the doorbell a third time, a fourth. A fifth. She started knocking after that, loud, with the base of her fist beating against the door. "Rachel!" she called out into the night, looking up at the lit window. "RACHEL!"
As Quinn's hand dove into her bag to retrieve her cell phone, a plan to call 911 already being set in motioned, the door swung open. Rachel stood there, a bottle in her hand, staring up at the frantic blonde. "What the hell, Quinn!" she slurred slightly, grasping the edge of the doorway for balance. "What are you doing here?"
"I just…" Quinn started, suddenly ill at ease, doubts coming into her head. What if Rachel was just saying goodbye to her MySpace account? What if this was all a big misunderstanding? What if Quinn was being the over reactive worrisome, meddlesome bitch she'd always accused Rachel of being? "I just wanted to make sure you were okay."
Rachel studied her for a long moment, lost in thought. "I suppose it does have a certain ironic… ness to it." She turned away from Quinn and the door and walked back inside, and Quinn had no option but to follow her, shutting the door. "Ironicity? Ironicalness? Ironic… ish… ness? That you'd be here, I mean."
Quinn followed her through the living room and into the kitchen where Rachel resumed sitting at the bar. There was a glass and a bag of ice sitting there, along with a crumpled dishrag. Sitting on the dishrag was a large kitchen knife, triangular blade gleaming, looking like something the victim in a horror movie would pick up.
"Rachel," Quinn said, and the brunette turned hazy brown eyes towards her. "Why… um… why are you drinking by yourself here on a Saturday night? Where are your dads? Where are the Glee girls? Wasn't tonight the birthday… sleepover… thing?"
While Quinn talked, Rachel poured another drink into the glass, and Quinn noted that she was drinking some kind of red vodka. She put the bottle down, slipped a couple of ice cubes in the glass, then picked it up with one hand while picking up the knife in the other.
"Look around, silly Quinnie," Rachel said with a smile that made Quinn nervous, spreading her arms. "I'm surrounded by everyone that loves me. Let's list them off: dads…? Nope. One's busy partying, the other's busy working. Mom…? Replaced me with a newer, better model. Boyfriend…? Ex. Friends from Glee…? They got a better offer tonight. Hell, the only person that bothered to show up was you, silly Quinnie." Rachel took a sip of the drink, grimaced, and shivered all over. "Ew." She paused to consider Quinn again. "Why are you even here, Quinn? Don't you have a perfect party to go to with your perfect boyfriend to celebrate your perfect life?"
Quinn started circling around the island in the center of the kitchen towards Rachel. If she could only get the knife away from her, maybe she could hold her down until she could call someone to help her. Rachel was wary of her, though, and slipped down from her barstool, keeping the island between them.
"You think I have a perfect life?" Quinn asked, doing her best to keep her voice calm and cool while continuing to try and circle slowly towards Rachel. "Maybe you forgot about last year when I got pregnant and kicked out by my parents. Or how I was bounced around from Finn's to Puck's to Mercedes' because no one wanted me. We're not so different, you and I."
"We are nothing alike! I haven't forgotten last year, Quinnie" Rachel said, doing another sip, grimace, shiver. "Nor have I forgotten how you got it all back just because you're pretty and blonde and evil. How you 'convinced' Sue to put you back on the Cheerios. How you ratted out your best friend to get your head bitch captain spot back. How Ken and Barbie got to sing at Sectionals because Finn and I threw the duets competition to make Sam feel wanted in the Glee Club. How yours and Puck's little bastard was the daughter my mom wanted more than the daughter she had. You cheated on your boyfriend, got knocked up, got kicked out, and got it all back within… what? A year? I've been picked on and bullied my ENTIRE LIFE! So please… PLEASE tell me how we're alike again."
"Rachel, I know that—"
"Stop calling me that!" Rachel screamed at her. "I've been Berry for the last two and a half years at this school because of you and the Cheerios. You don't get to come in here and start calling me Rachel like we're suddenly friends now."
Quinn was quiet for a moment. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."
"Really? REALLY?!" Rachel yelled across the island as they continued to circle it. "Well isn't that a fucking first?! Quinn Fabray didn't mean to upset me. After a year and a half of torturing me, she suddenly doesn't want to upset me." There was a tense silence for a minute as she stared at Quinn, daring her to say something else, but Quinn had nothing to say. "So I ask again, Quinnie, why are you here?"
Quinn finally stopped circling her and looked down at the floor, gathering the courage to say what she really didn't want to. She thought… well, she hoped… unrealistically, that if she could keep Rachel talking, maybe she wouldn't do anything. Maybe it would all be forgotten and they could talk about it or cry about it or something. Come to terms with everything. But Rachel was more upset that Quinn had ever seen her, and she was cursing more than she'd ever known her to, and Quinn could only tell the truth and pray everything worked out.
"I saw your video tonight, Ra— Berry," Quinn said softly. "The one you posted on MySpace."
Rachel faltered, and the anger drained from her face. "Oh." She glanced down to the knife in one hand, to the glass in the other. She took another long sip, emptying the glass, then grimaced and shivered again. She set the empty glass on the island, leaving her holding only the knife. "Well."
"I don't know what you mean to do, Ra— Berry, but I don't think you should," Quinn said, looking the girl directly in the eyes. "I know you must be going through a lot, with your parents and Finn and everything, but all that's temporary." Tears started welling up in Quinn's eyes as she watched Rachel looking from Quinn to the knife. "You're going to be a huge Broadway star someday, remember?" The tears were slipping down Quinn's cheeks now.
"Quinnie, Quinnie, don't cry," Rachel said softly. "Don't you understand? You were right. You were always right. I am worthless. I finally see that now. That's why no one wants me. Why no one loves me. It's because no one can love me. You can't love worthless things, Quinn. No matter how talented I was, how much I wanted things, I was never going to get them. Some of us don't get to win."
"No, Rachel, you're wrong," Quinn said, moving towards her again, quicker now. Rachel moved around at the same pace, still keeping the island between them. "You're so wrong. You're destined to get out of here and go on to bigger and better things. Much better. But you can't do that if you're… if you do this. It's… it's a sin. Like, the worst one. You'll… you'll go to hell, Rachel."
"Oh, Quinn…" Rachel said, sorrow coating her voice. She'd stopped her movement which caused Quinn to stop and just stare at her. "I'm already here."
Suddenly, Rachel turned around and took off running. Quinn was so shocked for a second that she could only stare at her retreating form. She quickly shook her head and followed after her and watched too late as Rachel rushed into another room, locking the door behind her.
Quinn slammed into the door. "Rachel!" She banged on the door, sobbing now. "Rachel, please! Please don't do this, please!" She didn't respond. "RACHEL?" Nothing. "RACHEL!"
Quinn closed her eyes, listening intently for anything on the other side of the door. She heard nothing for a long moment as she prayed that God would keep Rachel safe. Then, out of nowhere, she heard Rachel whimper. There was silence for a moment followed by another whimper, then silence again.
