11.
Though I am still not completely comfortable with the idea of whiling away the time in someone else's home, there really isn't much of a choice but to wait while our clothes dry. It's not exactly like we can go out to dinner in our robes and just come back later. Noah suggests heading down the basement because apparently the owner of the house has a "kick-ass flat screen TV and like a thousand movies" but I can't stop myself from heading back toward the front room, where I caught a glimpse of the piano when we walked in.
I sit down on the bench, pushing up the lid above the keys and Noah leans against the doorway, smirking. "Should've guessed." But he doesn't seem to mind.
I brush my fingers across the keys, noting that the piano doesn't look like it's gotten much use in the past. I hate when people have beautiful instruments in their home for nothing more than show; to me, the only point of having a piano or guitar or any type of instrument is so that it can make noise. Preferably pleasant noise.
"Play me something." I look over at Noah, who is watching me expectantly. "Sing."
For some reason, I find myself shaking my head. "No." I drop my eyes to the keys. I have never turned down the opportunity to perform before; when I was little, I used to find any excuse to give company an impromptu show. Why am I resisting playing for Noah now?
Noah steps into the room and sits down on the piano bench next to me, like he did the other day in the choir room. His shoulder is pushing against mine and I can almost imagine that I feel the heat of his skin even through the fabric of our robes. Maybe it's just a memory of the pool. "C'mon, you're always bugging me about that stupid duet, now's your chance to show me what you got."
"I do have some sheet music in your truck." I move to get up from the bench but Noah puts his fingers gently around my wrist and I barely make it off the bench. "Noah-"
"You don't need sheet music, Berry, I know you." Noah points out and I have to admit that he's right. I do have a repertoire of songs I can play without needing to look at the notes. "I just want to hear you sing. There's no audience, no one to impress, just me."
Noah should have figured out by now that even by himself, he is quite an intimidating audience and for some reason, I do feel the need to impress him. I gently move my wrist away from his hand and position my fingers above the keyboard. Even though it isn't a duet, I start to play "City" by Sara Bareilles simply because it's the first song that comes to mind and by the time I'm through with the second verse, I no longer care about impressing Noah because all I can hear is the music and that's all the matters.
Noah lets out a low whistle when I finish and raises an eyebrow. "Damn Berry, you're like a professional." I laugh softly and mutter a thank-you because that is, after all, my life's goal: to become a professional. That's what Jesse and I always talked about doing together, making it big, sharing the enjoyment of our respective successes. It's almost as though Noah can tell that I'm thinking about Jesse because he questions, "Did your boyfriend ask you to play for him?" in a way that no longer seems invasive.
"Jesse was as good as I was." It was something I never liked admitting, something that he teased me about, though I secretly knew that he thought he was better. Jesse had many amazing qualities but his ego was not one of them. "We used to sing together at Carmel. We were the best."
Noah smirks softly. "I believe that." He hesitates, like he's not sure whether or not he should keep talking but he seems to rule out of the idea of keeping silent because he questions, "How did he die?" He doesn't sound like someone who's prying for the intimate details of someone else's tragedy. He just sounds like a concerned friend who really wants to know so that he can relate on some small level.
This isn't a question that I'm sure how to answer. Of course, this could be the perfect opportunity to tell Noah the truth, about everything. When he kissed me, I didn't feel like I was just some girl he was trying to use and then toss aside; it might be naïve of me to think that way, but I couldn't help but feel like it was the promise of something more, a way for Noah to express that he might be developing feelings for me. Because I am certainly developing them for him. Which is why I'm still reluctant to tell him the truth because I know I'll sound like a complete lunatic and it might completely push him away. Because those kisses were nice, but they weren't exactly a promise of forever.
"It was…there was…an accident." I don't look at Noah while I say this, focusing my attention on the piano keys.
"Quinn." Noah says.
I jerk my head up, eyes wide at his words. "What…?" I can barely hear myself speak. How did he…he couldn't possibly understand the truth.
Noah shrugs one shoulder. "I just thought maybe…I've seen you look at her sometimes, like you want to hate her but there's this part of you that just can't do it. And your reaction to seeing her again, the fact that you don't really like talking about either of them…I dunno, it just seemed to make sense."
I stare at him, at a loss for how to respond. Noah reaches out and takes my hand, the gesture absent and causal. "Yes." I say, almost surprising myself. "It was Quinn." The only other people I have told this to are my fathers and they found it impossible to believe me. Granted, I conveyed the news of Quinn's involvement in Jesse's death a little differently but it still feels good to tell someone who doesn't doubt me.
I'm about to tell Noah everything, I realize that I want to tell him the truth but he speaks before the words can tumble from my lips. "That must be hard. To see her every day."
I sigh, looking away from him again. "You have no idea." I close my eyes.
And I see Finn. It's just like the afternoon that Sam was killed and I saw him through Quinn's eyes, when I felt how she was feeling. A part of me wants to snap my eyes open and pray the vision goes away but the stronger part of me can't bear to look away, terrified of what I might miss when I do. But I am just as terrified of what I might see. From what I can tell, they're at the football field and I can practically feel the grass under my (Quinn's?) fingers. Finn is laying on his back and I'm moving closer to him and I no longer feel the grass under my fingers but the fabric of his shirt.
Finn smiles but the expression falters and sort of freezes on his face and slowly turns into an expression of confusion and growing horror. "Quinn…your face…" I wish I knew what he was seeing because it's enough to sincerely frighten him.
He moves to push her away but Quinn grabs his arms, pinning them roughly to his sides. "Oh no, you're not going anywhere." Her voice is low, a growl, inhuman and ringing in my ears. I lift my head, opening my eyes but I can't see the room around me, I can't hear Noah if he's trying to call me back to the present. I can only hear Quinn, I can only hear the pounding of Finn's heart in his chest and see the fear on his face. He tries to struggle but her grip is far too strong. "Are you scared, Finn?" She purrs and I feel her hunger, her excitement and anticipation. Her fingers dig into his arms and I feel his skin give way beneath my nails.
"Quinn…stop…what are you doing?" Finn's voice is shaky and he sounds like a little boy. I want to cry out, to use Quinn's body the way that she seems to be able to use mine. I wish the connection went both ways but there is nothing that I can do. Quinn knows that I am here, watching and powerless, exactly how she wants it.
"I need you frightened." Quinn growls and I can feel her body tingling with excitement. She cannot wait to kill him. "I need you hopeless." I can feel her mouth begin to elongate like some deformed snake and Finn starts screaming and it only makes her laugh, an eerie and inhuman sound.
Quinn moves her hands to his chest, her fingers like claws digging into his skin, tearing at his shirt and skin. She lunges for his throat and I can feel the warmth of Finn's blood on my lips. He starts screaming and Quinn sits up, using her hands to scoop the blood from his throat and chest into her mouth and it runs down her neck and chest, like she wants to bathe in it.
I feel myself fall backward and suddenly the room around me comes rushing back. I feel the piano bench underneath me, the unfamiliar smell of someone else's home is in my nose. Noah reaches out to catch me before I tumble off the bench and onto the hardwood and his arms feel strong and real against my back. "No…Noah…" My voice is barely above a whisper.
Noah carries me to the couch, laying me down gently on the plush cushions. My mouth still feels hot and sticky and the iron taste is still on my tongue. I rub at my mouth and lips, expecting my hand to come back stained with red but there's nothing there.
I'm only aware that I'm shaking violently when Noah asks me if I'm cold and if he should find me a blanket. Before he can get up to go looking for one, I throw my arms around his shoulders, pressing my face against his neck. I don't even bother trying not to cry because there is no reason not to. Finn is dead. I failed to save him and now Noah has lost his friend and Quinn is strong again. Noah rubs my back and doesn't ask me what happened, doesn't ask me why am I holding onto him for dear life and crying like I might never stop and that's for the best because I would have no idea what to tell him.
I know what news awaits me when I walk into McKinley High Monday morning. I know this because I saw the news report Saturday afternoon and because Finn was killed before my eyes. The news report discussed that Finn Hudson was found mutilated on the McKinley High football field and while details are sparse and there are no leads or suspects, the state of his body is similar to that of Sam Evans, who died only two weeks before. On Sunday, the news report talks about lack of evidence, a town in shock and how important it is to travel in groups and not go out after dark. Though the state of Finn's body suggests that he was attacked by an animal, people are not ruling out the possibility of some deranged, sadistic mad-man running around killing teenage boys for ritualistic sacrifice. I haven't said much to my dads throughout the weekend, haven't really moved from my spot on the couch and have been doing a lot of pretending that I don't see the concerned and pained looks that they keep giving me.
Monday morning, everyone is still talking about Finn. Several cheerleaders are standing in the hallway, crying openly and ignoring the sympathetic looks and pats that they get from their fellow students. Noah is nowhere in sight. I haven't heard from him since Friday night, when he deposited me on my doorstep and kissed me goodbye, looking concerned and promising that he would call me in the morning. In the morning, he undoubtedly received the news that his friend was dead and so it's perfectly understandable that I have not gotten a call from him.
It is also understandable that Noah is not in English class or anywhere in sight in the cafeteria, even though I want nothing more than to see him. I want to tell him everything, to confess the ugly truth of how I knew what Quinn was and did nothing to stop her. I failed to tell anyone the truth, I failed to stop her and now Finn is dead. Just like with Jesse, this is my fault. This will not happen again.
Quinn is once again the center of attention. It's been no secret that she and Finn have become a sort of item, so everyone wants to know how Quinn is feeling and what the last words Finn said to Quinn were. I don't know what answer she gives, but I am certain it isn't the truth: that Finn's last words involved him begging her for his life. Quinn looks perfect, immaculate, once again. Her skin is glowing, her cheeks are rosy, her hair is radiant, even though she puts on the appearance of someone grieving the loss of their boyfriend.
On the way to glee practice Monday morning, I see Quinn slip into the ladies room and I can't stop myself from following in after her. The bathroom is empty, so I march right over to her, where she stands in front of the mirror, checking her reflection. Quinn smirks but doesn't turn to face me. "I was wondering when I was going to be hearing from you." She sighs, shaking her head. "Let's hear it Rach, get it all out. Tell me how awful I am, tell me how you can't believe I killed him." She is mocking me.
I just stare at her, my eyes narrowed, silent, my body tense, until Quinn finally turns to look at me, like she's surprised that I haven't launched into a tirade yet. "I'm going to kill you, Quinn." My voice is low, confident and certain of what I'm saying. Quinn almost looks surprised. "This ends now."
Quinn narrows her eyes into slits and looks almost excited by my words. "You don't have it in you, Berry."
"We'll see, won't we." No more mistakes, this is not my friend, Quinn is dead and gone and it's time to kill this creature using her body.
Quinn smirks. "I'm going to enjoy tearing your heart out and eating it."
I feel a shiver run down my spine. "I thought you only murdered boys."
"I go both ways." Quinn winks as she moves past me, pushing my shoulder with hers as she heads toward the door.
I let out a shuddering breath when she is gone. It never occurred to me that she would want to hurt me, but now I wonder if that wasn't her plan all along.
Even though there's several other people in the choir room and I know that Quinn wouldn't do anything violent or reckless in front of everyone, I still feel uncomfortable being so close to her. I wish that Noah were here, simply because his presence would be enough to make me feel just a little bit safer.
Mr. Schuester is even more shaken up than he was when Sam was killed and cancels practice for the next week and possibly indefinitely and no one seems to care. Even though practice is canceled, no one really gets up to move, instead sitting around and talking in hushed tones about Finn and the potentially crazed killer somewhere on the loose. They have no idea they're sitting in the same room with the person who killed both Finn and Sam and who is probably considering killing another one of them and normally the irony would strike me was humorous but there's really nothing funny about this particular situation.
I slip out unnoticed and decide to walk home instead of bothering to wait around for my dads to pick me up. On the way, I call Noah but the call goes to voicemail and I leave a floundering message, full of stutters and stops, asking him to call me, explaining that I know how he feels. Noah doesn't call that night and when I dream, it's not Jesse that I find ravaged at the playground but Noah.
Noah is not at school Tuesday and again my calls to him go unanswered. I understand his need for privacy and his desire to grieve and be alone but the reoccurring nightmares I've been having featuring him as a mutilated corpse are doing nothing to convince me that he is okay.
Wednesday, I have made the decision to go to his house and at least ascertain that he is all right if he isn't at school again. I am almost surprised to see him at his locker Wednesday morning and he looks over in my direction, our eyes meeting but he does nothing more to acknowledge me. I don't know whether or not I should be hurt by the way he turns and heads down the hallway or if I should make allowances for his behavior. After all, he did lose his friend in a horribly violent way. But still, I was the girl he was kissing in a pool Friday night. What if it meant more to me than it did to him? What did it mean to me? Somehow, I know this is not the time to be thinking about what those amazing kisses may or may not mean.
As Noah rounds the corner and disappears from sight, Quinn brushes past him, moving in my direction. I feel a surge of nausea run through me at the sight of her. However, the feeling that I might be sick disappears quickly when I take in Quinn's appearance. Her hair is falling limp down her back and her eyes look shadowy and tired once more. Her skin has taken on the shallow tint of someone battling with sickness. It's wearing off already. Finn died so that Quinn could have a handful of days of radiating beauty and energy. And now she looks almost normal, she looks like she's growing weak and soon she will have to kill again. I have to act before she does.
I walk past Quinn's locker on my way to class. As usual, she is standing talking to Kurt, who is, diplomatically, not mentioning her pathetic appearance. I stop and turn to face Quinn. "Quinn, are you feeling all right? You're not looking to good." I remark, smirking.
Quinn glares at me and slams her locker door shut so hard to Kurt flinches. "I wish I had your energy, Rachel. Maybe you could give me some." She runs her tongue over her lips and mirrors my smirk. Suddenly, I don't feel very much like smiling.
Even though glee practice is no more, I still find myself gravitating to the choir room when school is over for the day. Something about being in this room makes me want to sing and play and get myself lost in the music in a way that being at home hasn't inspired me to do since we moved. Besides, I know that as soon as I get home, I have to throw myself into planning on how to kill Quinn once and for all. It won't be as easy as it might have been the first few nights when she was back in town because now she knows that I'm coming for her and she's looking forward to it.
As it has been since Monday afternoon, the choir room is empty. I don't bother looking for Mr. Schuester or anyone else because it is unlikely that any of them would be interested in spending their after school hours in the choir room now that there isn't anything to work towards. Yesterday's duet assignment due date came and went, which might have been a good thing considering that Noah and I had never even picked a song, let alone rehearsed one. But none of that really seems to matter now.
I sit down at the piano bench but the inspiration to play doesn't strike me like it normally does. Usually, my fingers are itching to make contact with the keys but today I just stare at the white and black ivory, the way that I did in the days following Jesse's death, like the piano and music were completely foreign concepts.
"You gonna play Berry or just stare into space?" I turn around on the bench to see Noah standing in the doorway, looking at me with tired eyes and with an equally tired smile on his face.
I don't even chide him for sneaking up on me like I have asked him not to do in the past. A part of me is just relieved that he's standing here at all. "Noah, I…" I'm not really sure what to say. What do you say in this situation? None of the condolences anyone had to offer after Jesse's death made me feel any better, so I know that they won't help Noah feel better.
It was a surprise when Noah started talking first. "I'm sorry I haven't called." He moved into the choir room but instead of sitting down beside me like I expected, he dropped into one of the plastic chairs lined up against the back of the room. "I just…I didn't know where my head was at."
"That's perfectly understandable, Noah." I assured him. I stand and go to sit beside him, laying my hand over his after a second of hesitation. "I'm sorry about Finn." After Jesse died, I promised myself that I wouldn't ever say those words to anyone because they are absolutely meaningless. Yet here I am, telling Noah how sorry I am about Finn.
Noah sighs, leaning back against his chair. "It's just…we had plans to go to OSU in the fall, play football together and now…" I nod but don't say anything because I know exactly how he feels and he knows that. "It's hard to believe that isn't going to happen." He turns to look at me and his eyes are shiny and as naked as I've ever seen them. "Shit Berry, does it ever get better?"
I can tell that this isn't a rhetorical question. I shake my head slightly and shrug. "I don't know. It's hardly been any time since…but it has to get better, Noah."
He leans forward and kisses me, taking me by surprise. This kiss is rougher and more desperate than the ones we shared Friday night and it's like everything Noah can't say he's trying to convey with this gesture. Maybe this is how he speaks, not with words but actions, with touches, with kisses. Maybe I wasn't overthinking everything that happened Friday.
When Noah finally pulls away it's hard for me to breathe, like he kissed the breath right out of me. Wouldn't be the first time. We stare at each other for a moment, both silent, unsure of what we're supposed to do next. What is the protocol for this situation? Is it appropriate for him to be kissing me after his best friend died? Should I let him kiss me (alright, should I kiss him) with my boyfriend barely a few months dead. Is there any protocol for this? I'm guessing not.
I reach forward and rest my hand against his cheek. "It has to get better." I say again softly.
"I hope I'm not interrupting anything." I don't have to turn toward the doorway to know that the voice that just purred those words belongs to Quinn but I do anyway. My hand drops away from Noah's cheek but I can tell by the smile on her face and the glint in her eyes that I'm too late, she's already seen. I feel my body tense and my throat go dry, a sense of foreboding spreading from my chest and settling in my stomach. Quinn steps into the choir room. "Puck, Coach Tanka just sent me to find you. Something about practice. I wasn't expecting to see you in here, though." She arches an eyebrow.
Noah gets to his feet, giving my hand a slight squeeze before he pulls his fingers away. He doesn't say anything to me or Quinn as he walks out of the room, disappearing from view as soon as he turns to the left. Quinn flops down in the seat he just vacated and I quickly stand to leave. Quinn's hand reaches out and grabs my wrist, her grip uncomfortably strong, pushing me back down into my seat. "Well, well, Berry, it looks like we've got something to talk about." She is smirking.
I try to pull my wrist away but her grip is far too tight. "There's nothing to talk about Quinn. Let me go."
"I guess I went after the wrong guy, didn't I? All that time I thought you were making goo-goo eyes at Finn but here you were, sneaking around with his best friend." Quinn laughs slightly. "I'm impressed Rach, you never used to be able to keep things from me."
I jerk my hand away from hers finally. "I don't know what you're talking about Quinn." It suddenly seems imperative that I deny her words, that I convince her that there's absolutely nothing going on between Noah and I. I can easily read the look in her eyes, the hunger that comes not only from the demon within but also from the desire to take him away from me, the way that she took away Jesse and Finn. She used Finn as an attempt to hurt me, I can only imagine that she'll jump at the chance to get to Noah too.
"Rachel, Rachel, Rachel." Quinn shakes her head in a pitying way. "I'm your best friend, don't you think I know when there's a boy you like? Though, I have to say, I expected you to send a little more time grieving for Jesse. But, I mean he is dead, so I doubt he'll care…"
"Stay away from him, Quinn." I feel fury rise in my stomach, replacing the feelings of foreboding and fear that had settled there. "If you even try to hurt him, I swear-"
Quinn's laugh cuts me off. "You'll what? Bitch me out? Make idle threats? Sing until my ears bleed?" Quinn rolls her eyes, shaking her head. "There's nothing you can do to me, Rachel. I might have missed the mark with Finn but I know what I'm talking about now. And I'm going to enjoy making you suffer all over again."
I get to my feet quickly, not even bothering to grab my backpack as I rush out of the choir room and through the emptying hallways toward the football field that stretches out behind the school. I have to tell Noah the truth about Quinn. He cannot be unprepared for her now that I know that she intends on coming after him. If he knows the truth, then we can stand together against her, we can work out a plan and a way to kill her. Why haven't I thought about this before? Stopping Quinn would be so much easier with someone else who knew what was going on. I cannot let her hurt him. I will not let her.
I round the corner and run smack into someone approaching from the opposite end. I nearly fall backward and onto my behind but two arms reach out to steady me and I look up to find myself staring into Noah's face. "Whoa, Berry, don't hurt yourself." He remarks. "I don't know what Quinn was talking about. There isn't even football practice today and Coach "
I could really care less about Quinn's ploy to get me alone so she could threaten Noah's life. I grab his hand, pulling him back down the hallway that he came from, which will also lead us toward the student parking lot. "Noah, I really need to talk to you. It's imperative."
Noah seems a little surprised by my words and actions but he lets me pull him down the hallway. "What's this about? What's going on? Did Quinn say something to you?" Normally, I would enjoy the way his voice suddenly sounds protective but that hardly seems important right now.
"It's about everything." I say. "Please, just take me home and I'll tell you everything when we get there."
TBC
