Rachel and Him are still dating. I think Rachel mentioned to the other Peasants how unhappy I was about the new relationship, because they send me dirty looks now. I've stopped eating in the cafeteria. Kurt joins me in the library for lunch almost every day now, but today he's absent.
I'm comfortable with being alone, though. Gives me more time to read.
I leave the library to go the the bathroom for just a second. It's empty in the hallway. All of the sheep are in their classrooms, obediently learning things that will not matter to them ten years from now.
One moment I'm walking, the next I'm being dragged down.
It's Him. He must have been waiting for me by the library doors. His hands are rough on my skin, dragon scales scratching bloody murder against my slippery costume. He drapes fingers across my mouth, making sure I don't cry out in shock.
"Don't you dare scream," He whispers to me once we're dragged behind a corner, cut off from the world, from windows, from eyes to see. We are alone again. My entire body is snap-snap crackling like frantic fireworks set off too soon. I'm shaking but I try to control it, not to let him see the affect he has on me. He already knows. He knows I fear him.
"What have you been telling Rachel, huh? You told her not to date me?"
I'm pushed up against the wall. My breaths are coming in and out too fast, not right, my heart is about to stop beating explode in my chest bloody the school floor. My eyes churn away from His face, His ugly monster face, snakes and insects crawling through my muscles.
"Say something!" He demands.
Me:
I choose a bad time to be silent. He takes me and my throat is in his hands. It's not a lock hold, it's not painful or cutting off air. In fact his grip across my throat is gentle, the touch of a lover before they go to bed. Stroking the throat he's kissed so lovingly. His gentleness terrifies me, because it's all a joke. He's mocking me. He's telling me that there's so much power behind these fingers. He could kill me if he wanted to.
"You think I'm a threat?" His voice is low. Almost a growl. I imagine him as a tiger, claws caught around my fleshy throat, striped tail lashing back and forth. The tiny emerald yellow eyes burn into mine.
Yes. I fear you more than I've ever feared anything.
He leaves the question hanging there in the air like a body hanging from a noose. I can see it, swaying back and forth in the afternoon wind. He doesn't want me to answer the question, he just wants it there so I can see it. He already knows the answer.
He is a threat.
I close my eyes as he nears me. He lowers his head a little, closer to mine. I'm shaking so badly. I can feel my skin jumping every time my heart throbs. I don't want to see the nightmarish things in his eyes.
He leans in and kisses me very slowly. His lips stay on mine for seconds, minutes, hours, days, years. I am motionless, shutting down just like I did the night of Rachel Berry's party. He doesn't try to shove His tongue in my mouth or hold me in any places. He just stands there, a hand on my throat, His lips eating mine.
The pressure of His disgusting mouth is gone. When I open my eyes, He is gone. I imagine him stalking away, wiping his mouth, leerily smiling at Rachel as be approaches her with the taste of me on his face.
He kissed me. He touched me. He was a part of me once again. I am too shocked to do anything. I slowly slip down the wall, rubbing and scratching at my lips until He is gone and I draw my fingers away to find blood there.
It wasn't a kiss. It was a warning. He thinks he has power over me, that he can steal my mouth and my words and my happiness. He's already broken me down so many times, it seems impossible that he still has a hold over me.
But he does. My shoulders convulse, my wings shuddering against the smashed wall, as I dip my face into my legs and tangle my fingers in my short hair. The lunch bell rings, announcing the Sheep are headed to their afternoon classes. A roar overcomes the school as the animals are let loose, crawling and screeching and laughing like hyenas. It is overwhelming noise all around me.
No one hears me scream.
It's harder on some nights. Especially on this night, when I am all alone. On this night, on the day when His mouth touched mine and his disgust entered my body. I want to wash away everything. I thought it was getting better, but it's getting bad again.
I am crouched on the edge of my tub. There is water there. It is filled with myself. I can see everything reflected back into me. My memories swirl with the bubbles like there is nowhere else to go. I can see my parents and my friends and my Real Self dying alongside my Pretend Self. Most of all I see Him and the baby.
I've thought about killing myself. Most of the time I can push the thoughts away. I would never do that to my family, to the world. Even if everyone hates me and thinks I'm a whore because of rumors He spread, there are still things on funny little strings that connect me to this world.
I don't know if I'm brave enough to kill myself. Or selfish enough, I guess. I don't think I would. But then I never thought I'd end up here, with a mouthful of dirt and a mindful of memories I cannot erase.
I slip into the tub, fully clothed. I'm too tired to take anything off. I close my eyes, dip my head under the water. I rest the back of my skull against the porcelain of the tub. My eyes are open underwater.
It's a trick that took a long time to master. I used to do it in the pool as a child. I imagine that I am in that pool. I'm at my grandma's house and my parents are there, in their swim suits, sunning on the patio while my grandparents make cold lemonade inside.
The water is a startlingly clear blue. Aqua, topaz, sky-blue. I hop in, destroying the motionless surface. Water rains on my parents. They laugh and rate my splash. Ten out of ten, they insist.
I go deep into the pool, into the ten foot where my father warns me about going. I go until my ears pop and my body tries floating up to the surface but I want to see how long I can take this sensation of my lungs bursting.
The water is clear and blue all around me. Maybe I'm a mermaid in the ocean, searching for pearls. Maybe I'm a dolphin, swimming with my family through the summer water. Maybe I'm a little girl, who once upon a time believed in a happy life. My hair is curling slowly around my goggles, dancing to a silent tune. It's unbelievably silent down here. I wish I could live at the bottom of this pool, and never have to break the surface.
"What if I killed myself tonight?" I asked into my phone. He didn't pick up. I didn't blame him as I sat on the edge of the tub, my toes touching the ice-cold water. "If I just close my eyes and breath in water, can I go back to the peace I found at the bottom of my grandma's pool?"
When I finished the voice mail, I hung up my phone. I placed it carefully on the surface of the sink. And I slipped into the water, where it became my grandma's pool once again. I exist at the bottom of her pool for ages. I hold my breath for years. I grow old at the bottom of her pool, just dreaming and bubbling and watching the combines dreams and bubbles turn into color that explode when they reach the surface. I look up at the water's surface. It's paralyzing to think there is nothing for me to breath all the way down here. I am locked in a glass box of water.
I'm falling asleep to the gentle tune of mermaids at the bottom of the pool. Then there's a hurricane. I'm being stolen from the peace. Angry hands pull at me, rip me from the bottom.
I watch the mermaids flutter away in fear, my parents watch in disbelief, my grandma's pool fades into darkened memory.
I'm on the floor of my bathroom, gasping for air. Kurt is on top of me, pressing his mouth to mine, filling me up with oxygen like I'm a balloon. I throw up water, my chest spasms as my heart stutters to life.
It's so cold. I'm soaking wet. My clothes cling to my skin like leeches.
I'm waterlogged everywhere. My ears are filled, sloshing back and forth on the inside against my eardrums. My eyes overflow with water, dripping from bubbles and soap. My hair is short and plastered to my scalp. I try to sit up, coughing, as breathing returns to me.
"You're alive," Kurt chokes out, as breathless as if he'd almost drowned in water as well. I realize he's crying. His face is red and wet from mingled tears and the water on my face as he revived me.
The world is still very dark and dizzy, fading this way and that.
"Fuck you, Quinn Fabray. Fuck you. Oh, my god, fuck you." He says this in a rush, gasping and cursing me for being so selfish, so stupid. He's furious with me. I can see the anger in his glinting blue eyes. "You're so fucking stupid. Why would you leave me that message. You were going to kill yourself."
I cannot respond. My eyes flutter open and shut, the lashes stuck together and wet as if I've been crying. His words aren't angry, but soft, disbelieving, relieved. I relax deeper into the bathroom tiles, staring at my eyelids. Did I really leave him that awful message? I relaxed
into the tub believing it had been a dream. I would never call someone and do that to them. Never.
I fade in and out for a long time. I can hear Kurt cursing me every time my eyes half open. I am exhausted, having drawn so close to death and been yanked back to life. It's a long time before I can wake up.
When I finally do, I am on my bed. It's growing dark outside, and the Museum is silent, as if my parents are still not home. Towels and blankets have been draped around me, and I am not alone. Kurt is beside me.
He's asleep. He breaths in and out softly. I can hear his gentle inhales and exhales. He is on his back, arms tucked under the blanket. His hair is mussed, pushed this way and that by sleep. Some of it is sticking straight up. He looks much younger when he's sleeping, much more at peace.
He's not under the blankets, as if he only laid down next to me for a second and fell asleep before realizing it. His clothes and hair are still damp, but drying. I feel warm and slightly wet now, but safe.
I called him just before trying to kill myself. I don't know why I chose him. But I did. And he must have come to my house immediately after getting the voice mail. I cannot forgive myself for doing something like that to him, but I also cannot believe my sheer luck. He happened to listen to his voice mail, happened to rush here, happened to grab me out of Death's arms. I don't know if I am blessed or cursed. Even in suicide I am a failure.
I glance up just in time to see his eyes flicker open. His eyes are a brilliant blur of green and blue this morning. It feels as if I'm looking into the opening wings of a butterfly.
"Kurt." My voice is hesitant. A question.
When he sees me, his eyes harden. He shifts away from me, slipping off of the bed. "I didn't mean to fall asleep. I meant to leave hours ago..."
I say nothing. I think my silence makes it worse.
Kurt turns to me. He's pissed. "You're so fucking selfish, Quinn. Why would you call me, out of all of the fucking people you could have called? You will never understand how horrible it was to pick up my phone and hear that, and to come here and find you half-dead in your tub. It's completely unforgivable."
There are words in his mouth that hurt me, even though I have no reason to feel that way. I've never heard him swear this much before. But as he stares at me through his spiraling, spiky anger, I know he is only furious because he cares. I refuse to lose him.
"You hate me." It's not a question.
He doesn't physically soften. But I know him. I can see something weaken, just a little. Maybe he can't bear the torture in my voice. "Of course I don't hate you, Quinn. I- I just don't understand why you would do that."
I watch my fingers tangle together. I'm procrastinating. I don't know what to say.
"You don't deserve this, Kurt. I'm a mess and I'm dragging you down with me. Just get out before you get too deep."
"Too deep into what, Quinn? Your craziness?" he spits.
Kurt's still visibly angry, trembling this way and that like a deer who's been grazed by a hunter's bullet. But under the layers of anger he's perplexed. For every single thing he understands about me, there are a thousands things he doesn't understand. I wish there was an easy way to take everything in my head and put it in his so he will understand why I am so selfish and strange and different. But I can't.
There's nothing left but the truth. "I can't escape myself, Kurt, but you still can. You can escape.
This is your chance."
Kurt stares across the room at me. The air crackles with electricity. I can see it riding around on the invisible currents, angrily zapping this way and that. "Okay, then what? I leave you today and then you just go back to that bathroom and try to kill yourself again?"
No. I'm not a coward. I hate people who commit suicide. I drowned myself in a moment of pure terror. If Kurt leaves me today, I won't be alive, but I won't be dead, either. He sees these thoughts in my eyes.
I can't stand him looking at the floor and then at me with that agonized look of his, it shreds what remains of my heart into tinier fragments. I need him, with all of his hope and his kindness and his aqua blue eyes, but I won't keep him.
Suddenly I'm no longer in the room with Kurt and the monsters. I am a child, my hands are smaller and my mind is still filled with dreams. I am at a park, running through a yellow field with my mother watching from a ways off. Something flutters on a tall flower above me.
I reach out my hands and cup the butterfly in my hands.
I hurry back to my mother, my little legs kicking wildly with youthful excitement. My voice is at the top of my lungs as I call my mother over, show her the little butterfly trapped in my hands. It is so beautiful, its soft wings beating miraculously against my skin.
My mother sees the dust on my fingers, and gently tells me to let the butterfly go. If I hold on to its paper wings, they could rip. I am heartbroken to think I've hurt the little creature, but when I open my hands, it flies away without damage. I sadly watch it disappear.
I am back. My room is around me. Kurt is still here, staring at me. I think he is the butterfly, and if I don't let him go I will rip his wings.
"I'm sorry. Just go." I'm tearing up. The water is back. Running over my cheeks. I can't stand all of these thoughts and these memories and these people mixing into something awful in my head. I want to cut Him out of my brain.
Kurt doesn't listen to me. He is closer to me now, hands gently cradling my skull and touching his forehead to mine. He is overwhelmingly close, I am shaking violently. There is a war in my mind. I relish his touch as much as I fear it. I think of Him and his rough hands and fight to not let Him destroy Kurt. Not my Kurt.
I win. I bury my face deeper into his chest. He has no idea what he has done for me in the past few months. How is it possible that this boy used to be a stranger, and now he is the only person I need? I think that Kurt makes me want to be a better person. He makes me want to forget about my monsters and Him and everything that's happened, and start a new life.
"I'm not going to leave you, Quinn," Kurt breathes out softly. With Kurt, I am not afraid of how close he gets. He is a different kind of person entirely. Where He is big and rough and cruel, Kurt is slender and gentle and kind. I allow him to stroke his fingers through my hair, touching the golden threads delicately.
I take a shuddering breath. I have owed Kurt the truth for many months now. It is time that he
Understands.
He holds me close as I cry and tell him, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," over and over again. He smooths my hair back and forgives me for calling him. He was only angry because he cares so much.
"Kurt... do you- remember the story- I was writing... at the bookstore?"
He does.
A tremor rocks through me, so painful I can feel pieces of my spine splinter apart and knock against each-other. This Truth has been locked inside for so long, I have to reach into the bottomless chasm deeper than I've ever had to before.
But I find it. I withdraw it from my mouth, pulling out my arm that is sticky with blood and saliva. I uncurl my fingers, show it to Kurt.
"I am ready to tell you my story."
On the night of Rachel Berry's party, I walked downstairs. I felt like an entirely different person. Or maybe I was having an out-of-body experience. I moved down those stairs one at a time, trying to remember how to walk.
He'd already gotten downstairs first. He was with a group of his friends from the football team. He was leaning against the wall, expression troubled. When he saw me, he turned. He was confused.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
I said nothing. I ran away from him. But of course he followed.
He caught me by my wrist in the kitchen, where there was food littered all over the place and empty cups of alcohol were strewn carelessly. He spun me around, dark eyes narrowed.
"What is your problem, Quinn?"
That was when the tears started. I couldn't hold them back any longer. I felt my entire body weaken.
"You r- raped me." I could barely believe the words that came out of my mouth. Did I really just say that? How was this happening to me? This shit happened to other people, people on the news and on TV. But not me.
His entire demeanor darkened. He leaned towards me, breath smelling of alcohol. "Don't say that word," he snarled. "That is not what happened, you bitch. Nobody is going to believe you, not after what I tell them."
I shook violently. The monsters were coming. I could hear them.
"If you tell anyone about this, I'll kill you," he promised me.
There was nothing to respond to that. I shrank away, turning into the meek sheep I would be for months. I stared up at him through disbelieving eyes. He was my boyfriend. How could he say these things to me?
"Hey, Finn!" someone called from the living room, poking their head in. "Come here, we have to show you something."
Finn slowly turned away from the intruder back to me. His face was made of shadows, the teeth already sprouting. I had to escape before the monsters found me, but they would find me no matter what.
I left the party, my life changed forever.
Once upon a time, there was a girl.
She was born with a pair of wings. They were soft and beautiful, like bird's feathers. Her wings were the color of snow, and turned golden when sunlight kissed the feathers.
On Christmas Eve, my family makes me go to church with them. I've managed to evade the duty of heading off to God's Holy House for weeks now. But it seems both of my parents are tired of my antics. I don't want to push them too far. So I put on a nice outfit, stuff myself like taxidermy into a plump coat, and we head out into the snowy world.
We arrive at church early so we can get good seats in the pews. Church is big and dark and quiet. Faintly heated. Dressed up in twinkly lights. There's a nativity in the lobby that's always been set out for Christmas. I study baby Jesus and his parents, gazing down in awe at their kid. He
doesn't look too happy.
We sit in the hard wooden pews, free to pick any seats because there's hardly anyone there. I look up at the sculpture they have hanging of Jesus on the cross. His silver eyes sweep the near-empty pews on the eve of his birthday. He finds me. I am frozen under his gaze.
I duck my head to avoid his eyes. My parents are both kneeling, their heads bowed, as it is custom to say your prayers when you enter the pew. I don't hesitate as I bow my head. This all feels very strange. Abnormal. Bizarre. It's an act I've practiced thousands of times in blinding lights and absorbed audiences, but today I have forgotten my lines.
Hi God, I think. I'm never quite sure how to address God when praying. Is it meant to be formal, or are we best friends? I am out of practice. I haven't been here in so long. I've pushed religion to the back of my mind, where it rests with all of my severed soul from my life as a Real Girl. I've
managed to convince myself there cannot be a God in a world where these things happen.
Well, I'm sorry that I haven't been here for so long. It's been a tough few months. I don't know if you're really there, if I'm talking to myself or if you can't even hear me. But I guess I'll talk anyways. Because in my mind, I don't choke. I can say the words I am thinking.
I don't know what's happened to me. I've been through hell and I'm a different person and I hate you for doing this to me. I know it's stupid to blame someone who might not even exist, but if I blame myself I think I will shatter. I fear that this entire new life is all of my fault. If only I hadn't gone to that damn party, gone upstairs to that room...
I stop. I take a deep breath. My parents are both sitting in the pews again, but I am still kneeling. I decide that I don't care what they think of me. I'll kneel until my conscious feels a little bit clearer.
I have absolutely nothing to be thankful for today. It is your son's birthday, and I'm supposed to be happy, and a year ago I was so happy, but now I am stuck. I don't know why things happen the way you do, but my parents have always taught me that things happen for a reason. If that's true, then what was your reason behind this, God? Was there a reason behind destroying me?
I'll probably never know the answers. But I'll always have this anger, this hurt. I'll never be the same girl I was. Maybe that's a good thing, because I know I wasn't much of a girl anyways, but at least I was alive. At least I was normal.
I'm going to do this without your help from now on. You're supposed to always be there and answer our prayers and send us angels to watch over us. Who the fuck was watching over me when I went into that room? When I had a miscarriage? Nobody was. We have failed each other.
But I'm going to be okay with that. I don't need an invisible being who pretends to watch over us, when in reality there is only us. All I need is myself.
You've taken away everything from me, God, you fucker. You've taken away my friends, my family, my popularity, my youth, my happiness. In loss I've learned about myself and the world around me. How it's an evil place, and you can't depend on anyone.
I am here today not for myself. I am here for the baby that grew inside of me for a few weeks. The baby that was just a tiny creature I didn't understand. I was pregnant and I feared the bastard, until I realized it was innocent. And innocence died. I am here for the spirit of that baby.
I am here for Kurt, who has done more for me that you ever have. He has turned into the only person I trust in this horrible world. He accepts me with all of my faults and my experiences and my silence. I think if there was only one thing I can be grateful for today, it is that you gave me Kurt.
But this is my goodbye, I guess. I know I look really stupid right now because I've been kneeling here talking to someone who doesn't listen for a long time now. Church is about to begin. Praising you and your son and your religion that have failed me.
I am finished, God. I am going to live my life without depending on anyone. And that includes imaginary people that live in the clouds and laugh as humanity crumbles.
