A/N: Thanks to all who alerted and favourited this already. I can tell you, this is nothing like I've ever written and is a nice combination of several genres of fiction, you're bound to recognize something from somewhere in this. Mentions of sex, drug use and some darkness in this. You've been warned.
Disclaimer: Glee? Not mine.
.: one
Spill.
She ignores Quinn, dropping her book on the entry table with a thud and tucking her shoes neatly underneath.
It was her eleventh night by the bleachers, watching the sad, silent stranger from the shadows as he ran. He never speaks, never acknowledges her and she still wasn't able to read his mind. He jogs to the football field every night at midnight, runs for an hour and then slinks away tiredly, back to wherever it was he hid during the day. She doesn't follow him, although she wants to. The more she watches him, the more she wants to know about him. But she never follows him home. That dark, dangerous part of her warns her that would be a bad idea.
Rachel. You've gone out every night for the past week and a half. And you always come back smelling like man. Who is he?
She glares at Quinn and cuts her eyes at her. It was the same thing every night she came in.
"It doesn't concern you."
Quinn squeals cheekily and claps her hands. "She speaks! I figured if I kept annoying you long enough I'd get you to talk. So, who's the guy?"
Artie strolls in with a can of Pringles in his hand. Sour cream and onion. He sniffs the can and shuffles it around, his brows creasing in longing. "I bet this tastes delicious."
Rachel raises an eyebrow then smiles slyly at him. Artie was always willing to try anything at least three times, never mind the stomach-ache he was guaranteed afterwards. She flits over and snags the can from him, popping a handful of chips in her mouth.
"I hate you," he smiles at her. She chuckles evilly, winking at him as she eats another handful.
"So. What doesn't concern Quinn?" He mutters, narrowing his eyes in annoyance.
"Rachel met a boy," Quinn smirks.
She rolls her eyes at them and disappears into the kitchen and of course, they follow her. She pulls a bottle of water from the cupboard and uncaps it, drinking slowly as her mind wanders back to the man from the track.
"Oh? Is that so, Rachel? Who is he? Do tell."
She ignores Artie's sarcasm. "I dunno."
She watches the same look of confusion flash across their faces.
"Huh?"
You didn't check? You know, do that thing you do?
Nervous, she shrugs and shakes her head at Artie. "I can't."
Ignoring the disconcerted look that passes between her best friends, she walks towards her room, snatching Anna Karenina as she passes it by. She hasn't actually read the book on her excursions out to the football field, but she might need the distraction to try avoiding further questioning. Plus, it might be a good idea to get some more books, one can only pretend to read the same book for so long.
Quinn appears in front of her just as she pushes her door open.
"What do you mean you can't read him?"
She sighs, and none too gently pushes the woman aside. "Exactly that. He's silent. Not a peep. Zilch. Nada. No thoughts whatsoever. I hear nothing. His mind is completely mute to me."
Is this a good thing or a bad thing? Artie asks silently from the kitchen.
She glances over at Quinn, worrying at her bottom lip. "How should I know? I'm not sure. I mean, this has never happened to me before."
"OK. What does he look like?"
She tries to fight the blush creeping across her cheeks (but it's one of those things they can do that she can't,) and she cringes when Quinn claps her hands in glee again. (Exactly like one of those peppy blonde cheerleaders they saw in LA but if she told that to Quinn her ego might swell. So, no.)
The image of her tall, handsome stranger is vividly clear in her mind. "He's tall. Broad shoulders, brown hair sticking up everywhere, freckles, nice smile. Whiskey-coloured eyes."
Artie snickers from the kitchen. "You like him," he says in a sing-song voice.
"I don't know him. And besides, I'm not too keen on getting involved with anyone anytime soon. Jesse was enough of a life lesson for me."
Quinn snarls silently but when she looks over at the blonde, she's entirely focused on her manicure. Trying again to ignore them, she walks into her room and makes to close the door before Artie speaks again.
"Ah, Rachel, make sure you feed before you see him again? Everyone here knows you as a brown-eyed beauty. I'm not sure how they'd react if anyone saw you like that."
She frowns and turns towards the mirror on her wall, and bright azure blue eyes are sparkling back at her. Lips red, full and inviting.
The instant she sees the glow of her eyes, there's a tugging from somewhere deep inside and she can feel the faint twitches in her chest, her mouth suddenly starting to water. Touching a finger to her lips, she moans and turns to Quinn.
Quinn's smile was devilishly mischievous. "There's a house party over at the Omega house. I'll bring the wine."
She ignores Artie's mental growl.
...
Quinn wasn't the easiest person to get along with. Conceited and demanding, she had been that way for as long as Rachel could remember. She was blonde, beautiful and athletic, Rachel's complete opposite, and they had little in common. While they weren't exactly bosom buddies, for the sake of necessity, they had to tolerate each other. And as much as Rachel couldn't stand her on some days, there were times she was grateful to have Quinn around. With Artie rounding out their trio, over time they had become one small, dysfunctional family; aside from being the one to teach Rachel how to control her urges, Quinn really was the only blood relative she had left.
Walking to the frat party among the people just milling about, heading home or to go party, she was suddenly bombarded with images, thoughts and other hedonistic recognition of the beauty that was Quinn Fabray.
A group of men, barely surviving their third year, standing on the steps leading up to the frat house, were practically undressing Quinn as they approached. Shaking her head when she sees exactly what Quinn has in mind, Rachel purposely distances herself from the potent charisma beginning to swirl around the blonde.
"Hello, boys."
Quinn practically purrs from behind her. What she says mentally, would make a lesser woman blush. (This is one of those times Rachel was glad to have her around.)
The party was packed with bodies, male and female, pressing in and gyrating on each other, the music loud, heavy and seductive, alcohol flowing freely along with rolled-up blunts of weed and packets of pills and powder. As much as she was always down for a good time, a polluted mind and body were never welcome on the menu. She despises the habit and the people who wantonly embrace them. She scans the room quickly and passes to Quinn who to avoid and heads over to the bar, grabbing a cold bottle of Red Stripe.
She finds a spot along the wall where she can watch the whole room, her body swaying slightly to the throbbing music. Her gaze lands on a tall, athletic, dark-skinned man nursing his second beer, nervously fidgeting where he stands. (A freshman at his first frat party, the only reason he was there was because his dorm mates dragged him out.) She tips her beer back and saunters towards him, giving a slow wink when his eyes meet hers.
Matt.
She smiles seductively as she hears his heartbeat thumping louder and more erratic the closer she gets to him. His thoughts are muddled, the image of her in his mind scattering all common sense.
"Dance with me," she murmurs, running the tip of her finger across his cheek.
He shudders as his face warms from her touch, giving her a burst of energy that wraps around and settles in her belly. Matt smiles dopily and nods, dropping his drink on the floor as he follows her walking them backwards until her back presses against the wall. He bends down and tries to kiss her, his mind screaming at her how gorgeous she was and how good she smells and how he really, really wants to get her naked.
She fights her grimace and lets him push his lips against hers, pulling her roughly towards his groin. His lips move sloppily against hers and she fists his shirt and slants her mouth beneath his, moaning greedily as faint energy flows from him into her. He groans and tries to clumsily undress himself until she gently rests a hand on either side of his face, and he stills. His hand dropping to his side, he allows her to pull his body to hers against the wall, his moan raspy as she presses her lips harder onto his, greedily drinking him in.
She feels the wetness against her thigh as he slumps against her, pressing his forehead to the wall, his body quivering. She slips from beneath him, smirking at the dreamy look on his face as his legs finally give out and he slumps to the floor.
"Thanks, Matt."
She smirks down at him and drags her thumb across her bottom lip, then takes a deep gulp of her beer.
She flits throughout the room, feeding off the remnants of Quinn's conquests, pressing herself between two cheerleaders under the staircase, her hands pushed up the blouse of the redhead in front her, their lips attached as the blonde behind her presses kisses to her neck, her hand shoved into Rachel's panties. When the redhead slumps to her feet, Rachel turns around and pushes the blonde against the wall, attacking her lips eagerly as the girl's orgasm ripples through her. The woman pants and moans, gripping on to her shirt as her legs start trembling, her body shuddering and spasming beneath Rachel's ministrations.
"Fuck me," she pleads weakly then slumps the floor beside her friend, spent and breathing hard, already succumbing to the lure of sleep.
Unlike Quinn, she doesn't need to go all out to satisfy her hunger and she has a pretty good hold of her thirst. Also unlike Quinn, she doesn't incite sexual mania and orgies when she walks through a room. Not that she doesn't mind the tingles as she walks around, picking up random energy trickling from spent bodies, because, Quinn likes to get sloppy at times. Plus, she's not greedy. She's good with three, five bodies on a good day. Quinn is barely satisfied at a dozen.
It's more difficult for her to feed because (again, unlike Quinn) she must work to block out the thoughts of everyone around her and with Quinn nearby it was almost impossible, what with simultaneous orgasms rippling throughout the room and private thoughts screaming at her as they unravel.
The headache prickling at the back of her head tells her if she stays much longer she just might combust from the pressure.
She spies Quinn walking down the stairs, a bottle of water in her hand as she looks around, her skin practically glowing as she moves sinuously through the crowd. She stops suddenly and turns to Rachel, her eyebrows raised as she sniffs the air. She tilts her head to the right and frowns.
Do you smell that?
Sex? Rachel smirks back and Quinn narrows her eyes at her.
There's something or someone here.
She glances around and tastes the air, but there's nothing but the smell of sex, beer, drugs, and sweat.
Looking over at Quinn, she shakes her head. She doesn't see, smell, taste, feel or hear anything unusual - that is if you didn't count the two girl-five boy orgy going on upstairs in the second bedroom. (Hmm, someone really likes handcuffs). She snorts and shakes her head, pulling herself from the mind currently moaning in pleasure.
But, Quinn was centuries older and having just fed, her senses were more attuned than Rachel's. In barely a blink, she appears beside the woman and touches her bare shoulder, Quinn's eyes flashing silvery-white before a ripple of pleasure licks down her spine as she taps into Quinn's senses. She tastes a lingering, cloying sweetness in the air, and instinctively recoils. Quinn's voice in her head tells her to calm down and push the fear from of her mind. She closes her eyes and tries to get a better grasp on the sensation prickling in the back of Quinn's mind.
It was dangerous, bold and cold. And it was here about three or four days ago.
"It's like Artie. But colder," she murmurs to Quinn.
"Yes. And us being here is going to cause a clusterfuck. I thought Artie said the area was clean?"
Shivering, she pulls her hand away from Quinn and scans the room. "Artie isn't psychic, Quinn. They could've have come here after we did."
"But here? To OSU, Rachel?" Quinn wrinkles her nose.
She fights the urge to roll her eyes. Quinn wanted to go to Paris or Milan (for the fiftieth millionth time); she preferred the exotic lifestyle as opposed to the relaxed and laidback notions Rachel shared with Artie and was not pleased when they were leaving New York.
"Yes, Quinn. Here."
Just be careful. You're still young.
She focuses on a couple in the corner making out and ignores the repetitive lecture Quinn was giving in her head, grateful when she's distracted by a tall blond man drinking from a bottle of whiskey, his eyes undressing her. Quinn mewls and makes her way over to him, her thoughts dirtier than usual. Thinking of a brick wall, she throws Quinn out of her mind, smiling when she stumbles on her way to the waiting Adonis.
Five minutes. My head's killing me. And you're not making it any easier.
Although, there's a lot she can do in five minutes. Her eyes on the couple making out in the corner, Rachel walks over and runs her fingers over their cheeks. They both turn to her, eyes dilated, minds already undressing her, the man biting his lips and tugging her into him. Her headache dulls for just a moment when he licks along her neck.
…
She's at a music store near the OSU campus when he walks in.
Joe calls her in every time he gets new (old) records because he knows she has a soft spot for old soul albums, Otis Redding and Etta James. She's in the back corner with those thick studio headphones on listening to Solomon Burke's crooning when the familiar smell floats over to her and she hears him laughing as he talks to the store owner.
"I'm trying to find some screws for my hi-hat. Got any?"
"Sure Huddy, gimme a sec."
She presses her fingers into the sponge of the headphones, so hard they turn to dust in her hands, her breathing halted as she listens to the easy thump of his heartbeat, steady and calm under the music in her ears. His scent was intoxicating and already she can taste him on her tongue. Again, her mouth waters in anticipation.
She needs to leave.
She finds it funny that it was easier to deal with him under the cover of darkness when technically, it was more dangerous for him. Unfortunately, there were only two exits, one in the back room where Joe's two-man staff was lounging, and the other was directly behind the stranger; she's fast but there was no way to get out without being seen, or heard. For a moment, she wonders why she needs to hide. It wasn't like he could recognize her. Still, common sense tells her to leave. The longer she was this close to him, the more she wanted to go to him. Peel his clothes from him and wrap herself around his hard body until she was spent and sated, licking him to hardness to do it all over again.
She shakes her head to push the evocative images from her mind and stops breathing again.
She puts the headphones back on the shelf beside her and bends to pick up her bag. She hears Joe shuffling in the storeroom and walks as slowly as she humanly can towards the counter and exit. Joe comes back out and calls out to her, frowning at her empty hands. "Hey, Rachel? Nothing new this time?"
She shakes her head at him, giving him a small smile. "Nah, I'll come back some other time. See ya, Joe."
She gives him a small wave and nods politely to her handsome stranger as he smiles down at her and steps aside so she can escape.
She runs across the street, hurrying into the trees hidden by the coming evening mist but still listening to the easy conversation in the music store. The quiet stranger seemed to have a love for drums because he buys a new pedal and some decals for his kit at home. Joe promises him he'll call him when he gets some new alternative records and laughing, bids him goodbye. "Have a good one, Huddy!"
Now that she has a name to go with his scent, she hides in the shadows when he walks by her, twirling his drumsticks, his relaxed façade gone, face grim as he heads to a red truck in the parking lot across from the music shop. She keeps up with him as he drives, following his scent and the rattle of his truck. He parks in front of student housing on the opposite side of the campus where she lives.
She's so focused on him that she almost doesn't recognize the same cloying sweetness she had picked up from the Omega frat party. She stops and looks around but still finds nothing out the ordinary. The smell is faint, more than a couple days old.
Turning her attention back to her handsome stranger, she follows his scent to an apartment on the third floor. He lives with two other men, who complain loudly because he forgot to bring home pizza.
She chuckles and after lingering for a moment, turns back towards home, her pace easy and relaxed as she walks. Quinn had a gentleman caller last night, and she and Artie had been sexiled. She decides to order pizza as payback, detouring to the blood bank before she goes to their apartment.
...
She's totally unprepared the next time she sees him again.
This time she's sitting with Quinn, Sugar and Artie, listening to some story about two women in Artie's statistics class when the sudden shadow falling across their table alerts her to his presence right as his intoxicating smell of sandalwood and musk reaches her. She immediately stops breathing and looks up at him, eyes wide.
Quinn's mental shout totally belies her calm demeanour as she beams at the two men standing beside Rachel and practically purrs. To his credit, Artie doesn't react and Sugar was blissfully unaware.
"I'm sorry to interrupt," he smiles down at her.
From the corner of her eye, she sees the smirk on Quinn's face as she realizes what had happened. Artie looks between them, slowly raising an eyebrow. He frowns at her before exchanging a slow, knowing smile with Sugar.
Her handsome stranger was staring at her. He glances over at the others, smiling politely at them before his gaze comes back to her. "Hey."
She swallows her laugh at the look of abject rejection on Quinn's face, peeking up at him from under her lashes. He was gazing intensely down at her, waiting for her response.
"Uh, hi."
His smile was blinding. "Rachel, right? I saw you in Joe's shop the other day?"
His voice was rich, smooth. She blinks several times to clear the haze from her mind, swallowing nervously before she tries speaking again.
"Yeah, hi again," she breathes.
Beside him, his friend's eyes widen slightly when she speaks, and Artie kicks her foot under the table. Turn down the charm sweetie, you're turning me on. She glances over at the glassy look in Sugar's eyes as she stares wide-eyed at them.
"I'm Finn, Finn Hudson." He holds out a hand for her to shake and she does, swallowing again when tingles erupt over her fingertips as he takes her smaller hand in his. He stares at their hands, his brow furrowed, and she echoes the thought Quinn throws back at her.
He's different.
She nods imperceptibly and pulls her hand away, heat colouring her cheeks.
She imagines his fingers brushing over her face, thumb lingering over her lips and heat washes over her. Quinn snorts and Artie sniffs as he watches the redness creeping over her skin. She shakes her head to push the images away, focusing on the unfamiliar man standing beside Finn.
Whew, Huddy! That blonde is smoking! His mohawked friend has a cocky grin on his face, his gaze intent on Quinn. His thoughts are so dirty, she has to double check that he's human; he had a very creative imagination that Quinn would be immensely proud of.
Finn seems to remember his manners then and nods over at his friend. "Oh, this is Puck."
"I thought your name was Noah?" She grins at him. "I'm Rachel Berry. This is Quinn Fabray, Artie Abrams and Sugar Motta." She points them out in turn as they incline their heads in greeting.
Puck reaches over to shake Quinn's hand, pulling back with a glazed look in his eyes as she touches him. This time Rachel doesn't hide her snigger. She shakes Puck's hand quickly, surprised and happy that her palm doesn't tingle when they touch. Sugar gives them a dazzling smile, gives them a breathy 'hi' and waves, resting her cheek on Artie's shoulder. Artie shakes each man's hand then leans back in his wheelchair with his arms crossed, a small smile on his face as he glances between her and Finn.
Rachel steadfastly ignores him.
Puck finally pulls his eyes from Quinn over to her and blinks in confusion. "Sorry?"
"Noah Puckerman. Nice nickname." She smiles mischievously. Finn chuckles.
Scratching the back of his head, Puck frowns down at her. "Yea, everyone calls me Puck. Uh, do I know you?"
(He was in his second year as a business major. ) "Intro to Stat Analysis. Professor Landon?"
Quinn hides her delicate snort behind her hands.
Noah tries to recall seeing her in his class, vaguely remembering someone similar to her. (It's not her of course, but his mind is preoccupied with Quinn. So.) Finally, he nods and grins widely at her, then turns his charm back to Quinn. "So, do you mind if we join you? We were just about to get some lunch."
Quinn's frown is brief before she unleashes her charming smile onto Noah. "Sure. I was just about to go get something to eat too. Rachel?"
Noah's knees almost buckle and she doesn't need to read his mind to understand the lip biting thing he's doing right now. Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, because, Quinn rarely eats in public and needing to put some distance between Finn and the images of her moving beneath him sliding around her mind, she declines.
"Actually, I ah, need to go. I have a paper I need to hand in before two. Some other time?" She jumps to her feet before Noah and Finn can sit down. She ignores the hurt look on Finn's face and the snarky laugh in Artie's mind.
"Are you sure Rachel?" Sugar asks.
Artie's question comes to her silently. Why are you running? Is he the guy you keep watching?
"Yes." (To both questions.)
Finn shuffles from one foot to the other. "Alright, I guess I'll see you around then?"
He seems shy and hopeful.
She smiles and touches his arm covered by his jacket, turns and hurries away as slowly as she can manage before she can finally breathe easily again. She needs to be able to breathe if she's going to hang around him. And get her dirty thoughts under control.
His scent was much too intoxicating for her to think straight.
…
She looks pale and eerie in the mirrored wall as they enter the club, the beat of the music loud and thumping.
Tonight was another one of Quinn's ideas, another girl's night without Artie, who was more than willing to spend some quiet time with Sugar.
Walking beside her, Quinn looks ethereal, her blonde hair almost white under the lights. She turns around and winks slowly, tossing her hair over her shoulder, her green eyes luminous as her body moves sinuously towards the throng of people writhing on the dance floor. Rachel bites her lips and follows her, the anticipation prickling over her skin. She doesn't want to be here, but someone needs to control Quinn if she were to get out of control and if she were being honest, it wouldn't hurt to feed.
Two hulking men raise their brows as Quinn passes them by and she narrows her eyes, sidestepping them carefully as their gazes wander dangerously over Quinn's body. She warns the blonde about them: the one on the right has an affinity for choking women and the one on the left had the dirty habit of taking what he wanted and not caring who, or how, he hurt them in the process. While she was sure Quinn could more than handle herself, it was best to not tempt fate.
After claiming a Red Stripe from the bar, she walks to the nearest wall and closes her eyes, letting the energy pulsate around her. Someone presses in close in front her and her eyes slide open. A tall, svelte brunette brushes past her, winking as she does, her body lithe and supple. She twists and turns her body on the dance floor, eyes glued to Rachel as she beckons her towards her.
Tiffany. A second-year Biology major. Twirling her body to the beat of the music, she bites her lips and nods when Rachel whispers to her mind. Tiffany moves lithely towards her, backing her onto the wall and brushing their lips together. It's more of the usual monotony, and Rachel fights to block out the running commentary the other woman has going on in her mind.
She vaguely wonders what it would be like to bed the woman, or anyone else, as a lover; she honestly can't remember the last time. The thoughts were much too loud and overwhelming when she was that intimate. Anything - namely her feeding uninterrupted - could and would happen.
An image of Finn, naked and pressed up against her pops into her mind. Her nipples hardening, she moans at the phantom sensation of his tongue in her ear and hard body against hers.
Shaking her head to get the image out of her mind, she pushes her tongue into the woman's mouth, pinching Tiffany's nipples as she smells and feels the woman's arousal as her body goes slack, her essence rushing into Rachel. Wiping her mouth, she steps away from the brunette, pushing her so she's slouched against the wall, sighing contentedly.
She looks around and finds Quinn in the crowd, grinding between two dark-skinned men, her hands curled around the back of one's neck as he pushes his hand under her shirt, pressing into her from behind. She shakes her head at her when Quinn looks up and winks with one silvery-white eye, turning back to the bar for another beer.
This time, she's ready for the inevitable headache whenever Quinn gets out of hand with feeding. Sometimes alcohol helped to dull the ache.
What she doesn't expect this time is the virtual punch to the gut that almost doubles her over. Images flash behind her eyes: people shoving and stumbling about, bodies pressing in, others trampled on the floor as chaos ensues. Messy brown hair, dimpled smile and warm honey-coloured eyes. She can feel the crunch of bone under her feet, wetness on her fingers and the emptiness that surrounds his fading aura: his death.
Crap.
Quinn! She snarls. The other woman doesn't acknowledge her, too caught up in her greed and the energy from the mass of bodies pressing in around them. Loud moans and sighs fill the room and as a faint red haze seem to undulate from where Quinn twirls and twists her body.
It was already starting.
She growls and narrows her eyes, pushing her mind at the other woman. QUINN!
Quinn snaps her glowing eyes open and sneers over at her. She knows exactly what she's doing. What's about to happen if she keeps up that fucking dance.
The smile dies on her face as she stares at Rachel and frowns, her nostrils flaring as she turns to wildly look around the room. Rachel follows her gaze, scanning the crowded room quickly before the effects of Quinn's frenzied dance finally take hold.
Over there!
She sees him the same time Quinn's mind shouts at her, he's wavering on his feet, awkward and ungainly as he moves towards the front doors, fumbling through the people clustered in around him. He's drunk, she can smell it from here.
The token six seconds she was just privy to occur in real time achingly slow and too fast at the same time. Someone shrieks, the sound muffled as someone else screams from their orgasm. She's beside him immediately, gripping his arm and tugging him upright right before he falls over, pushing people away from him.
"Gerroff!" He complains, trying to pull his arm from her grip.
"Stop it. I'm trying to help you," she commands quietly. She wasn't too fond of what was about to happen, and she needed to get him, and herself, outside before it did. Still, Finn keeps trying to pull away from her. Her hands are small, tiny in comparison to his and he's strong. She frowns, wrapping both hands around his arm and drags him none too gently towards the door.
"Leggo. 'S hurts," he slurs.
Right as she pushes him through the doors of the club she hears the scream of the orgy from behind them.
"Wah-," He turns to go back inside and she narrows her eyes, literally lifting him off his feet and pushing towards the parking lot and to his truck.
Quinn knows how to get home, so she pushes him in, grabbing his keys from his pocket.
"Rachel?" Recognition finally pokes through the haze in his mind.
"Yes."
"Wha- what's going on?"
"I'm taking you home," she growls.
He groans and leans his head against the seat as she starts to drive off, people pouring out of the doors of the club behind them. She hears the shouts and screams as the veritable mass orgy explodes inside. A muffled scream, darker and more terrified than those inside the building drags her attention to the darkness to the right of them.
One of the hulking men they had seen when they first entered was mercilessly pounding away at a tiny strawberry blonde in the corner outside the club.
Growling, she stops and kicks the truck door open and moves behind the man as he laughs and grunts, relishing the pain of the tiny woman in his arms. She yanks him away and breaks the hand he has clamping down the woman's screams. He bellows in agony, squirming on the ground.
"Get in the truck. Now!" She snarls at the woman clutching at her torn dress. Terrified, the woman takes off on wobbly knees towards the stuttering truck.
Fire flashing in her eyes, she turns to the brute on the ground and kicks him in the groin, satisfied at the sickening crunch as he uses his good hand to cup himself, choking and gasping in pain. She kicks him three more times for good measure, breaking his jaw, collarbone, and knee before spitting on him and leaving him broken on the ground.
She's back beside Finn in the truck as he hangs his head out the truck, trying to empty his stomach outside his window.
"I'm dying," he groans.
She grinds her teeth in anger and with one last look at the building behind them, she drives off.
The woman in the backseat was terrified and frozen in shock. Yanking off her jacket, Rachel wraps it around her bony shoulders and heads to the nearest medical centre as Finn groans in misery and starts hurling again.
So much for staying away from Finn Hudson.
A/N: Exactly how crazy am I?