Everything Happens For a Reason: Chapter 2


Disclaimer: I am in no way affiliated with the making or writing of Glee. All rights belong to Ryan Murphy and his team.


Rachel POV

I arrive home an hour late, mentally preparing myself for Jesse's wrath. He normally gets home before me, seeing as I have to take off all of my stage make-up after the show. I know that I'm in for an extra harsh beating; Jesse hates it when I'm late. I can only hope that Ava is sound asleep and not privy to any of the happenings going on outside the safe confinements of her bedroom.

As I approach the apartment, I take a deep breath in a vain attempt to try and stem the tight knot that has taken up permanent residence in my stomach, and proceed to unlock the door.

Sure enough, I'm confronted by Jesse's intimidating demeanor, his blue eyes sparkling with malice and seeming to stare deep into my soul.

"Where the fuck were you?" he sneers.

"I-I-I'm really sorry, Jesse. Traffic was an absolute nightmare. I-it won't happen again. I s-swear," I respond in a slur of fear.

"You're damn right it won't happen again." He starts to slowly trail towards me, his fist clenched at his side. "I'll make sure of it."

I recognize the signs of what's about to come, so I try to diffuse the situation before it gets completely out of hand.

"P-please, Jesse, don't! I promise I won't be late again! I promise!" I beg him, desperately trying to hold back my tears.

He's circling me, entrapping me like a lion entraps its prey. I can feel my body trembling, my heart beating to its own rhythm, and I know what's about to occur; it's happened often enough.

Before I even have the chance to try and shield myself, Jesse lashes out, punching me roughly in the stomach. I double over in agony, a hiss escaping between my gritted teeth, my arms clutching my abdomen. Feeling something sharp hit the back of my head, I fall harshly to the ground, the hallway spinning dizzily around me. My vision is blurry, my surroundings weaving together to from one giant, distorted image. I can briefly make out Jesse's hazy figure pacing in front of me, his form rigid. Closing my eyes, I try and will away the pain, wishing for a small miracle to come and save me from this hell. Re-opening them, I start when I'm met with the stony stare of Jesse, his eyes boring deep into mine. He's whispering into my ear, his hot breath sending shivers down my spine, however my head is pounding so loudly that I'm unable to decipher what he's saying; it's most likely some sort of insult, though.

He straddles me, his body pressing down on mine, gripping my wrists and restraining them by my sides. A sadistic grin forms on his face and he spits at me, seeming to relish in the pain and humiliation he's unleashing upon me. His hand makes contact with my cheek three times, and there's a part of me wondering whether the red mark will be a permanent feature on my face. I feel his fist collide first with my shoulder, and then my stomach and ribs, knowing that Jesse is taking extra care to lay the harsher blows in places where the resulting marks can be easily concealed.

I refuse to let Jesse know how much pain he's causing me; I won't allow him the satisfaction of crying out in agony. Instead, I lie motionless on the floor, enduring my 'punishment' and hoping that it will soon be over.

Once he's content with the damage he's inflicted, he gets up, dusts himself off and with a final kick to my side, strolls out of the apartment like nothing has happened.

That's when the tears start flowing. I finally relinquish all of the pain I've been suppressing, letting my emotions resurface. Uncontrollable sobs ripple throughout my body, each one coming out in a strangled gasp. My breathing is short and labored, and I can feel my heart pounding furiously in my chest. With great difficulty, I pull myself up and carefully head off to go and check on Ava, assuming she's fast asleep since I haven't heard a peep from her since I got home.

Opening the door to her bedroom, I gaze over to her bed, expecting to see the little girl safe and sound in a place where nothing can hurt her. So naturally, I'm stunned to see her room empty, her bed the same way it was when I got her up this morning.

It hits me then that of course Jesse wouldn't have picked her up from my dads', not in the fury he was in. I traipse into my bedroom, stopping to look in the mirror, unable to recognize the person staring back at me. The woman in front of me is a long way from who she used to be; her once confident and happy demeanor now reduced to nothing but an empty vessel. I feel as if I'm looking into the face of a robot, its sole purpose just to get through life with each day passing by in a blur. I can feel the tears welling up once more, but I won't cry. Not again. I've shed enough tears and now I need to lift my defenses, mask my pain and go and collect my daughter.

"Pull yourself together," I say to my reflection, "your little girl is waiting. She's depending on you."

I don't need any more motivation than that. Just the thought of Ava is enough to allow me to gather my thoughts and spur me into movement.

Grabbing a hoodie to hide the marks on my wrists and shoulders, I apply some cover up to my ever reddening cheek and make my way out of the apartment. There's a slight breeze in the air and the smog of the city fills my senses, giving me a sense of comfort, a sense of home.

I flag down a cab, tell the driver my fathers' address and off we go. I spend the twenty minute journey staring out of the window, taking in the scenery of the city: the bright lights, the towering skyscrapers, the infamous buildings, the hustle and bustle of its citizens; it's just everything I love.

We're outside my dads' apartment complex before I know it. I quickly pay the driver and leave to go and fetch my daughter. Arriving at the door of their apartment, I knock and patiently wait for someone to answer. A few seconds later, the door opens revealing my dad, Leroy, a wide grin on his face, his arms open and inviting. I gratefully accept the hug, wincing a little at the contact, before stepping into the warm and homely apartment.

"I thought Jesse was supposed to be picking up Ava tonight. We were starting to get a little worried when he didn't show up."

"Yeah, that was the plan but Jesse had some things he needed to do at the theater. He was going to call but he just hasn't had the chance," I respond, shocked at how easy lying has become. "She wasn't too much trouble, I hope?"

"She was a complete angel as always. And don't think for one minute that we don't love having her here. Any extra time we get to spend with her is most certainly welcome."

I smile hugely at that. I've always felt guilty about the amount of time I've had to hand Ava off to someone else to watch, but knowing that my dads' feel the way they do about looking after her does help to relieve the guilt a little.

"It was getting late so I put her down in the spare room. I'll just go and get her up."

I head on into the living room where I find my daddy, Hiram, sitting on the couch watching the football game.

"Hey, Daddy, how are you?" I seat myself next to him on the brown leather couch, leaning over to plant a kiss on his cheek.

"The Jets are getting crushed by the Redskins. Their linebacker is out injured and the quarterback just fumbled the ball." At my confused look, Daddy chuckles before saying, "I'm fine, Sweetie. How are you?"

"I'm pretty good, thank you." I inwardly wince at my too polite tone and the fact that I'm lying, yet again, to one of my dads'.

I hate this. I hate my dishonesty to the men that raised me. My dads' and I have always prided ourselves on our open and honest relationship; I've always been able to confide in them about anything. But not this. They cannot find out what's going on. Jesse is like a son to them; they adore him so much. It would break their hearts to find out the truth. I just know that they would blame themselves for it, and I will not allow them to shoulder that burden.

"I was thinking, Rach, that we'd have you and Jesse over for dinner next Monday. We barely get to see the both of you as it is, and Jesse only ever stays for a few minutes when he comes to pick up Ava. It'd be lovely to catch up with the both of you. And I mean really catch up."

I freeze. I have no idea what to say. If I say no then he's going to be pretty hurt and want to know why we won't come over for dinner. But if I agree then I'm going to have to try and convince Jesse to participate…I can imagine just how well that conversation would go. How am I supposed to tell my dads' that their son-in-law has no intention of coming for a family dinner? He's always been eager to do so in the past. I feel a sharp pang in my heart at the thought of the old Jesse; the one that used to be so tender and caring. I need to bide some time; enough to think up a plausible excuse.

"That sounds like a good idea, Daddy, but I'll need to check with Jesse first. He's not really had any free time as of late and he may just want to spend the night at home relaxing. But rest assured, I will do my utmost best of ensuring that we can attend."

Daddy scrutinizes me, one eyebrow raised, a look of bemusement plastered on his face. "You okay, Honey? You don't seem like yourself."

"Y-yeah, I'm just tired. It's been a long day," I assure with what I hope is a convincing smile, "you know how show business can be."

Nodding his head in understanding, he turns his attention back to the game. I can feel the sweat building on my palms, the rate of my heart speeding up and my mouth is unusually dry. There's no one who know me better than my dads'; they can always tell when something's wrong. They have the best hearts of anyone I know. If something's going on they immediately want to help, want to try and fix whatever problem it may be. But I won't let them. Not this. It's my mess; I can't get them involved.

Thankfully, Dad walks in saving me from my inner turmoil. He's holding Ava in his arms, the little girl babbling contently to herself. I feel a smile etch onto my face at the sight; it's amazing how that can happen. How that little girl can make all my troubles go away – even if only for a short while – never ceases to astound me. Ava spots me within an instant and her face lights up, her big toothy grin, which never fails to take my breath away, beaming right at me. She is the ray of light in my dark, cold world, that little spark inside of me that tells me to keep living, keep breathing. Everything I go through, everything I work for is all for her.

She reaches out for me greedily and I immediately take her into my arms, holding her tightly and breathing in her calming scent which quells all of my fears. This little girl is my savior.

"Have you been a good girl for your grandpas', Sweetie?" I coo, using the voice I reserve only for her.

"Yeah, Mama," she babbles back, nodding her head fervently and toying with a few strands of my hair.

I place a kiss on her forehead, my lips lingering on her soft, olive skin, determined to pour all of my love for her into that one kiss. Gazing to my right, I can see my dads' looking on in devotion, a warm smile adorning both of their faces. I glance at my watch, realizing that I need to get Ava home to bed. Kissing both of my dads' goodbye, I snuggle Ava protectively to my chest and make my way out onto the busy New York streets.

I hail a cab, strap Ava in safely and tell the driver my address. Ava falls asleep five minutes into the journey, her light snores filling the silence and allowing me to marvel in her innocence. I pray that Jesse isn't at home as I am yearning for some time to reflect on my thoughts and wallow in my self-pity.

The cab ride flies by, my emotions invading every fiber of my being, demanding my attention. Before I know it, the cab pulls to a stop outside of the apartment complex and I can practically hear the warmth of my bed calling me into its depths. Handing some money to the driver, I lift Ava out of the car, taking extra care not to jostle her.

I catch the elevator up to the fifth floor, allowing the whirring of the mechanism calm my inner turmoil. As I linger outside the door of my apartment, I send up a prayer that Jesse isn't home, just waiting to unveil another attack. I unlock the door, gingerly stepping inside, taking in my surroundings slowly. I relinquish a breath I didn't know I was holding: Jesse's not home.

I take Ava to her room, removing her coat and changing her into her pajamas. Lowering the side bars, I gently place the little girl into her bed, tucking her in securely and leaving a tender kiss on her forehead.

"Goodnight, my angel," I murmur softly, slowly backing out of the room, flicking the light off on the way out.

I travel into the kitchen, grab myself a glass of water and make my way to the bedroom. As I scan the familiar room, fond memories flash through my mind: of times where Jesse and I would lie in bed, reminiscing on the past, of times where we would discuss how our day went, both of us reflecting on the highs and lows. I look over to the bed where we would confirm our love for each other, our bodies molding together in a dance that was so familiar, so natural, before we slipped into a deep slumber, his strong arms wrapped tightly around me, making me feel safe and loved.

I let out a sigh of despair; we'll never have memories like that again. Now the loving, gentle man that I used to know and loved deeply is gone, and in his place is a monster, an entity that is soulless, dead inside. A creature so cold it can inflict pain on someone without an ounce of remorse. I quickly push all thoughts of Jesse out of my head, instead focusing on the inviting bed where I can fall into a much needed slumber. I pull off my clothing, wincing as the material makes contact with my battered and torn skin. Once again I find myself looking in the mirror. I'm a vision of black and purple mess, the marks running together to form one giant bruise. I pull on a black tank top and matching shorts and crawl into bed, my aching body relishing in the soothing feeling the cold sheets offer.

As I close my eyes, I find myself speculating when Jesse will be home, wondering whether I will have the whole night to sleep soundly or if I'll be disturbed by my intoxicated husband - as I have so many nights before. Either way I'm going to close my eyes and drift off into what I hope is a sleep filled with dreams of a better life for me and my daughter, dreams filled with a hero to pull me from the abyss I call existence, that allow me to escape from the reality that is my life. I mean, that is the whole reason for dreaming, right?


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