Oh my lanta. Two years y'all. I have no excuses. Thank you so much to anyone still reading this story. I rediscovered when someone started following it the other day and I got the email notification. I hope so much that if you're still reading, this update will suffice. No excuses except wow a lot has changed! I appreciate all the reviews I got on this story, those who shared their own experience with abuse, those who voiced their opinions about the love interest, those who read INSPITE of not enjoying Blaichel. This is for you all!

CHAPTER 12

I'm still here. She opened her eyes slowly, so slowly that she barely registered the light streaming through the window beside her head. So slowly that she almost wasn't sure that she was actually awake. Beside her, Blaine slept soundly, his hair mussed and imperfect, falling against his forehead gently, his naked torso sprawled across the covers, one arm haphazardly flung over the side of the bed, the other tucked neatly beneath his head. He looked so peaceful, lying there. Like a little boy. Like an angel. Like a lie. She blinked slowly and turned her head to face the ceiling, moving as quietly as she could, wishing with every ounce of her being that he would remain asleep so that she could have a few moments to herself. Just a few.

But of course, that would be too much to ask. The moment she turned her head, he began to stir beside her. Fuck, she quickly shut her eyes to pretend she was asleep as if that would somehow will him to follow suit. Why did she do that? "Rach?" His voice was low and hoarse, heavy with sleep, groggy. Inwardly sighing, she turned her head to face him and forced a small smile, feigning a yawn. Her voice was bright when she spoke, and she winced at the sound of it. Too bright, too cheery. It would annoy him. "Good morning!" He grunted and squinted his eyes at the clock before he sat up and stretched his muscular arms above his head, sighing loudly. "Well, guess we'll have plenty of time to get ready."

She watched him closely, trying to gauge his mood by the way he moved as he stood and adjusted his boxers around his hips. He didn't look at her, not even a throwaway glance to see if she was also moving. He just went about his business, grabbing a towel from the stack of clean laundry she hadn't put away yet and heading to the bathroom without another word to her. She didn't realize she had been holding her breath until the door had shut and she exhaled, feeling lightheaded. Something seemed off, but she couldn't put her finger on what it was.

He took his time in the shower, so Rachel got up and laid her outfit for the day out on the bed, then wandered to the kitchen to brew a cup of tea for herself and a pot of coffee for him. It was strange, she was only in high school, yet she felt so tired. So old. Her body ached and creaked, taking longer to adjust to movement then was probably healthy for a 17 year old and yet, she didn't think twice about it, so used to the feeling now. As she waited for the water to boil, she fingered a picture of her taped to the fridge, her at six years old, hair pulled into a tight bun, face screwed up in concentration as she stood in a frozen ballet pose, tutu slightly lopsided, makeup done up heavily. Even though she knew it was her face staring back at her, she barely recognized her childhood self. Who was that girl? So confident despite her mistakes, so determined even at six. "What are you looking at?" She jumped at the voice that boomed out suddenly in the quiet room, and Rachel was immediately aware that the tea kettle was boiling, its high pitched whistle permeating the stillness in the air. Rachel hurried to pull the pot from the burner and busied herself with getting out two mugs and her favorite tea bag, smiling over at him as she did so.

"Oh just an old picture of myself. My dads pulled out a box of pictures last time they were here, and decided the most embarrassing ones should grace our fridge," she laughed and it sounded natural and she was surprised and pleased with the sound. Blaine took the mug she offered and kissed the top of her head as he brushed past to also look at the picture. For a second, she felt normal. For a second, it was as if they were a regular old couple, sharing a memory, laughing together. But it passed when Blaine shrugged and looked her up and down, a look of distaste on his otherwise handsome face. "You going to school like that?" She shook her head and looked down, forgetting her tea so she could mumble her rebuttal. "No, no, I just need to go get ready."

"Do that."

On their way to school, Rachel was quiet as Blaine sang along to the radio, watching out the window as the trees blurred by. The bruises on her face were fading, a sickly yellow that was surprisingly easy to cover beneath a healthy dose of concealer, the ones below her neck even easier to cover in a loose sweater and pair of leggings. She touched the glass, touched the reflection of herself staring back at her, then dropped her hand just as quickly when she felt Blaine's eyes on her. "You okay? You're pretty quiet today. Are you mad at me or something?" His tone was light, but the darkness lurked beneath it, a small warning, one she knew well. "I'm fine baby, just thinking about that math test today. I hope I studied enough."

The air stilled as he laughed and used his free hand to grab her thigh, caressing her gently. It made her skin crawl. "Oh yeah, forgot about that today. Hope you do well, I'd hate to have to punish you." He gave her a sexy little wink and the sick feeling intensified as she forced out a weak giggle. Punish me. Like she was a child. Like she was property. He reminded her of the creepy old man who once followed her around a department store when she couldn't find her dad. Taunting her, telling her how pretty she was, how he'd like to take her home. Who was she now, where she accepted this was okay?

I'm no one.

The hallways at school were crowded and noisy as always, no one paid any mind to them as they walked towards Blaine's first class, where he kissed her cheek gently and gave her hand a squeeze then disappeared inside. Rachel turned to begin the walk back to her own class, unaware of the pair of eyes watching her closely as she did. She was rubbing her arm gently, a nervous tick that she never remembered developing, her messenger bag carefully placed across her shoulder so it didn't disturb the healing bruise beneath.

"Berry!" The sharp tone scared her so badly that she actually jumped and let out a small yelp, like a beaten dog. Sue surveyed her closely, thinking the same thing as the small girl turned to face her, scared and almost shaking. What happened to this girl?

"Yes, Ms. Sylvester?" Rachel attempted a normal tone as she stepped toward the cheerleading coach, gripping the strap of her bag tightly in one hand to steady the shaking they both couldn't ignore.

"I need to see you in my office. I've dismissed you from first period, you can make up your math test another date." Rachel felt like she was going to faint at the barked, clipped voice propelling her towards the office, and the feeble voice that wanted to come from her throat, offering excuses and reasons why she couldn't possibly make her test up, that she had to take it now...or he'd know. He would know. But nothing came out. Just silence as Sue offered her a chair, and gestured toward the corner. Rachel glanced to the other person in the room, the small rehead that she was so used to seeing but hadn't ever really talked to more than a few words, but now Rachel knew why she was here, why this was happening, and the bubble of dread inside of her was so tight in her chest that Rachel felt crushed by it. She was going to pass out. She was going to die right there in that office.

"Rachel, Sue and I wanted to talk to you, privately. We wanted to help you. To allow you a safe outlet." Her voice was so mousey, Rachel thought, as she stared at her blankly, trying to appear as though she had NO clue what Ms. Pillsbury could possibly be talking about. "We want you to know that this IS a safe-"

"Oh, cut to the chase Emma." Sue's impatient voice cut the school counselor off sharply and Rachel snapped her attention over. "Rachel, we know what's going on. We want to help you. But in order to help you, we need you to tell us, in your own words, what is happening. What exactly your boyfriend is doing. Is he hurting you?"

This again. It was like a balloon deflating in the room as Rachel stared between the two of them, like a deer in headlights, trying to decide whether to laugh or cry. Was everyone at this school determined to kill her? They wanted her dead, didn't they? Blaine was going to kill her when he found out about this. He always knew, he always found out. "I have literally no idea what you're talking about."

Even Rachel was surprised at how strong her voice sounded. Apparently, it startled Ms. Pillsbury and Sue as well, because they both looked at her at the same time, and neither spoke. So Rachel did. The only way she knew how, deny, deny, deny. Deny. Deny some more. "Why does everyone keep pushing me? Nothing is wrong. Blaine is perfect. I'm perfect. Why do you all insist on bothering me?"

"Because we know, Rachel," Sue's voice was vastly different this time. Soft, low, urgent. "We know he hits you. We see the bruises. We've heard the stories from your friends. You don't need to protect him, Rachel, you need to protect yourself." Protect herself. The words hit her like a jab to the stomach and she blanched, unsure of what to say in return. Unsure of how to proceed.

"You don't know." When Rachel found her voice, it was careful. So careful. "Please leave me alone. Please. You don't understand what you're doing to me. I'm fine. I can handle myself just fine. I have to get to class." She stood so abruptly that neither teacher had time to stop her, not until she reached the door and turned once to look them both in the eye. "Please."

No one can save me. No one.