A/N: Sorry for the late update. I've been pretty busy and have had quite the writer's block.
Chapter 1: Let's Kill Tonight
One Year Later • Rachel
Finally.
As I emerge from the airport and step onto the busy New York streets, I cannot help but smile as it hits me. Through trials and tribulations, botched auditions and amnesia, the loss of friends and time, I have managed to gain entrance to NYADA, the college of my dreams. Everything I have ever done has prepared me for this moment. If there's one thing I've learned, it's that "all the world's a stage", and my life is the ultimate performance. Every thing that I can remember has given me experience that I can use on the stage of my world. At any moment in time, I could be given a role of someone whose boyfriend - along with several other friends - died in a car accident, who woke up one morning unable to remember several months of life and had to undergo twice the amount of schooling in order to graduate on time, or whose remaining friends all joined a cult.
At least, that is how it appears to me. For the last year, Tina, Sam, Artie, and Mike all have acted strangely when around me. I had caught them throwing pitying glances my way, or stopping abruptly in the middle of a sentence. They can rarely hangout with me after school because they rush off together as soon as the bell rings. Whatever cult they're in has them on some sort of diet because ever since the Incident, I'd never seen them eat much of anything. Even at graduation, they barely touched the long tables of food. Brittany is the one constant. For a time, she was incredibly depressed at the loss of Santana, but she had become more of her usual self during these last few months.
However, my old life is over. I can't dwell on the past. No longer am I Rachel Berry, Ohio's resident drama Queen.
After hopping into a cab, I make my way to the train station which will take me up to the NYADA campus, bejeweled pink rolling backpack in hand. The rest of my belongings have been sent to my dorm room prior to my arrival. Once on the train, I stand for the entire ride rather than sit. The seats are filthy, and Heaven knows what I could catch. It amazes me, even in New York, how little people think of hygine and keeping their bodies in the best shape possible.
The train comes to a stop and I get off, try not to shove anyone, and walk the two blocks that leads me to my future. The campus is thrice as large as McKinley was, and I know I have made the right choice as my eyes dart back and forth, processing what I see. The students milling about seem older and more artistic than my McKinley peers. In a place like this, my fashion choices certainly would not be ridiculed. Eagerly, my feet carry me towards the dorm rooms. I try to take notice of every thing around me; since the Incident, I have been determined to keep my memory in check. I get lost and only need to check my map once before making it to Talge Hall, the female dorm.
As I push open the doors, the sweet smell of jessamine hits me along with the swell of music and laughter. Girls run down the stairs and hallways as my feet carry me up to my room. The dorm is full of life and art as drawings and paintings aren't limited to our doors. Like children, the girls have drawn onto the walls with paint and crayons and the floor with chalk. It should look barbaric, but the merging of such different elements have me so transfixed that I nearly walk right into a door. I catch myself a few inches before my head meets the mahogony frame covered with stickers and look up at the room number: 306. My room!
My key has been turned into a part of my necklace to prevent me from losing it, so now I free it from its place and open the door. The room is bigger that I believed it to be, and one side of it - which I assume to be mine - lay completely bare as if an imaginary line divided the room. On the other side of the line is a whole world of things, chaos that seems to have a form of ridigity to it, as if everything is in its place. My roomate has band posters up on her wall and defaced editions of popular magazine tacked on as well. My roomate herself sits at a desk chair in front of a Mac, but now turns to look at me. She has pale skin, jet black hair binded in long dreadlocks, a nose stud, and bright blue eyes. She's wearing a dark blue shirt and black skinny jeans, and her feet are bare.
"No shoes in the room," she begins when she notices my gaze on her feet "and you must be Rachel." She rises and strides over to me, holding out her hand as a smile appears on her face. "I'm Lindsay."
I let go of my suitcase to shake her hand, replicating her smile. "You're correct about that, and I'm pleased to make your acquaintance, Lindsay." We let go and she looks at me with a weird expression on her face, and I wait for the "Why do you talk so funny?" question that every new stranger gives me. But she doesn't say anything except, "Need any help?"
Already, Lindsay has exceeded my expectations, which fills me with hope that this school will be nothing like McKinley. I will have no cheerleaders to fear or ice cold death traps to dodge. With this new sense of hope I take off my shoes and lay my suitcase flat. The rest of my belongings will be waiting for me in the front office which Lindsay would be delighted to show me. But for now, I bond with my roomate while emptying the first of my baggage.
Later, when everything is put away and the sky is beginning to darken, Lindsay turns to me.
"Hey, Rachel, how would you like to go on an official tour of New York?" she asked, an actual twinkle coming to her baby blues. "We'll do everything before the sun comes up."
I put down the shirt in my hands amongst the many clothes on my bed and turn to face her. "You want to hang out with me?"
"Don't act so surprised." She tells me, laughing. "You seem cool, and I want to give you the full college experience."
I look down at my outfit, trying to calm my excitement. How weird would it look if I semed eager to get out there with her?
"You know what?" I say, picking up my head. "That sounds pretty damn awesome."
••• Quinn •••
You'd be surprised how much you could learn in a year or so.
When she deemed my "mental state" stable enough, Raven moved me from the basement up into her room. I have been there for about five months now, and it has not been easy for me to fall asleep. I fill my waking hours with books. I am not particular, though I do find myself bringing home fiction that takes place in the 19th century. This is the furthest that most authors will plunge, and it surprises me how accurately they can describe the era from the fashion to the dialogue.
Now, the others are at breakfast and I am finishing the last page of Circle of Fire, the last book in a trilogy by the name of Prophecy of the Sisters by a woman named Michelle Zink.
It is the last page that I feel the most.
"Whatever else I may come to understand in this world, Alice will always be a beautiful mystery. It is one I am content not to solve. I can love her now in all her lovely darkness. Alice was my sister. And we were not so different after all."
It cannot be said that I didn't try. After Raven permitted me to live above ground, I expected it was because she had believed that I had ample time to forget about... That it was time to move on from the past. She had wanted me for centuries, never giving up even in times where either of us could have perished. I truly attempted to see her in a new light, as someone who sacrificed everything for the one she loved. But underneath that layer of undying love and devotion lies an evil so horrible that it's nearly impossible to stomach. Amalia was only able to love Alice after she died, and girls always end up with the hero of the movie.
The fraction of Raven's cult that is made up of my friends try to help me. Each day they try to recall some good deed she preformed for them and tell it in a way that does make her seem like a hero. But upon comparing their praise to the girl that shares a bed with me at night, none of it makes sense.
Raven's lovely darkness is a pretense that buries the deeper evil inside her. I have become her prisoner again, but things are much different than they were when I was human. She doesn't abuse me or make moves I'm not ready for. I have finally stopped tensing up when she kisses me, but it is impossible to replicate the passion felt in those tender touches. She strokes my hair and knows all my vulnerable spots, but I simply cannot bring myself to be really happy with her.
As long as I know what she is capable of, I can never truly love her.
••• Serena •••
Let it be put on record that I hate Quinn.
I mean, like, even if Mother can forgive her, I sure as hell won't. Quinn can't do anything to me, so I test out my theories on her. I've been a vampire for a little over whole year now, and she has been my subject dummy for as much. I'm glad we heal quickly, because if my experiments left scars, Mother would definitely take notice and be upset with me.
Quinn takes it in silence, which pisses me off even more. She knows to expect me when Mother isn't home and remains quiet jo matter what. She only makes sounds afterwards, sobbing when she is alone. I would pity her if I didn't despise her so fuckin' much.
Ari and I have grown close now. She walked in on me once drinking from a refridgerated blood packet and took the news surprisingly well. Considering how she was the one who had encouraged me to take the leap, I was surprised it took her this long to figure me out. In order to change, you would have to die with vampire blood in your system. Point blank - I committed suicide. But I knew I would come back, so I'm not sure if it even counted. I took a few pills and fell asleep in a drawn bath, drowning myself. When I emerged from my reverse baptism, my jaw hurt and everything felt different. Once Ari found out, she convinced me to torture Quinn. It didn't take much convincing, to be honest.
"Let's do something fun." she says to me now, sitting across from me as I play the new Assassin's Creed in my room. My black electric guitar is in her lap as she quietly strums a few chords She's been adopted into the family as seamlessly as I was, and we have that whole sibling vibe going on. She hasn't tried to get with me - or anyone, for that matter. Maybe she's one of those asexual types.
"I'm having a lot of fun where I am." I tell her, my eyes never leaving the television screen.
With my peripheral vision I notice her put down the guitar and make her way over to me. She leans across me to pause the game on my controller, smiling up at me. "Watching you play video games isn't fun." She says with a slight smirk.
With a sigh, I put down my controller and fold my legs, looking over to her. "What do you want to do?" I ask. She smirks at me as if she had been waiting for me to say that all night.
"If I retreat
Words, wars, and symphonies
Make room we're taking over here
So the gallanting
Cold and alone, it suits you well
You won't find me perching here again
May your feet serve you well
And the rest be sent to Hell
Where they always have belonged
Cold hearts, colder songs
They will play us out
With a song of pure romance
Stomp your feet and clap your hands
Let's kill tonight!
Kill tonight!
Show them all you're not the ordinary type
Let's kill tonight!
Kill tonight!
Show them all you're not the ordinary type
Let's kill tonight!
May your feet serve you well
And the rest be sent to Hell
Where they always have belonged
Cold hearts, colder songs
They will play us out
With a song of pure romance
Stomp your feet and clap your hands
Let's kill tonight!
Kill tonight!
Show them all you're not the ordinary type
Let's kill tonight!
Kill tonight!
Show them all you're not the ordinary type
Let's kill tonight!
Kill tonight!
Show them all you're not the ordinary type
Let's kill tonight!
Kill tonight!
Show them all you're not the ordinary type
Let's kill tonight!"
A/N: The song was Let's Kill Tonight by Panic at The Disco.
So should I stick to Quinn/Rachel's point of view? Should Raven be involved? And if you request a song, I could form a chapter around it. Feel free to review.