New iMessage
Tuesday, December 10
7:12 p.m.
RACHEL: I'm here
RACHEL: Which floor
iMessage
Tuesday, December 10
7:12 p.m.
MERCEDES: Surgical floor. Its the pink floor just walk down the yellow hall and take the elevator
MERCEDES: Ask for directions
RACHEL: Ok
MERCEDES: Nvm I'll come down n meet u. Its confusing getting up here
RACHEL: Ok waiting in lobby please hurry
Mercedes sat her phone on the empty chair beside her, stuffed her feet into her Nike slide-on sandals, then stood up for the first time in about an hour. Her back cracked as she stretched and allowed her body to feel how just how tired it actually was. She was drained, to say the least. All the crying and screaming made her tired physically, and worrying about Quinn sucked the life out of her emotionally as well. It had been a little over an hour since they got to the hospital and a little over an hour since they had gotten any news about Quinn's condition. For all Mercedes knew, her best friend was still fighting for her life and still losing every ounce of blood she had in her body. She didn't think it was fair how surgeons could leave families wondering like that.
Before she opened her mouth to speak, she glanced at her mother. Her mother was usually a pillar of strength and she wasn't used to seeing her so run down and helpless. In fact, up until tonight, she could count on one hand how many times she had actually seen her mother cry. But sitting in the waiting room, hopelessly waiting for someone to come out and tell them that Quinn was okay took a toll on her mother and turned her into someone she didn't recognize.
Mrs. Jones laid with her head slumped against her husband's shoulder, eyes closed lightly but not really sleeping. She seemed content with the way her hand was wrapped up inside her husband's, but her mind was everything except content. Her stomach churned as she ran through all the grave possibilities in her head; she felt nauseous when her mind wandered to the idea of Quinn dying. She just wanted to know what was going on in surgery. She just wanted to know if she should be preparing herself to bury her daughter or not.
"I'm gonna go get Rachel," Mercedes said to her parents as she adjusted her shirt and pants that had ridden up a bit since she was sitting. "If they come out to tell us anything, tell them to wait until I get back."
"Okay, baby." Patrice sighed, never opening her eyes. She adjusted her position in the chair so she could lay on her husband's shoulder a little more comfortably, and she sighed as he pressed a kiss to her hand.
Part of her wanted to sleep. Every time she got comfortable, her eyes would grow heavy and she'd shut them for a moment, thinking that trying to get some rest would be for the best. But every time she started to drift off into a quiet slumber, the image of Quinn lying face down in a pool of her own blood replayed in her mind and the words her husband used when he told her that Quinn died twice in the helicopter rang in her ears. She wasn't going to be able to sleep until she knew Quinn was okay, she accepted that.
She couldn't wait until the surgeon came out and told them that everything was fine and Quinn would be okay. She felt it, deep down in her gut. She knew that everything was going to be fine and by the end of the week, they'd be taking her home to nurse her back to health. She couldn't wait until it was time for them to go back and see her. But more than anything, she couldn't wait to ask the surgeon what else could have caused an esophageal rupture. Sure, they were telling them that the only thing that could have caused it was extensive vomiting, but that wasn't the case. Quinn wasn't throwing up, at least not while she was living with them. There was no way she'd let one of her children get so sick without noticing. There was no way Quinn was throwing up like that without her knowing.
God, she just wanted Quinn to be okay. She and her husband never meant to fall in love with her, honestly they didn't. She never meant to take on yet another teenager in the middle of the school year, and never meant to love that teenager as if she gave birth to her. She and her husband had no idea what they were getting into...
"Mommy." Mercedes used her baby soft voice when she called her mother's name, and Mrs. Jones' radar was immediately on high alert.
She knew her daughter better than her daughter knew herself, she was proud of that fact. She knew her daughter so well that she knew Mercedes was about to ask her for something godly impossible. Mercedes picked up a knife and started helping her mother peel potatoes, another action that made her mother's radar ping.
"Whatchu want, 'Cedes?" She mumbled, dropping a peeled potato into a pot full of water. "You need some money? I ain't got none right now, go ask Daddy to take you to the bank."
"I don't need money." Mercedes plopped a tiny potato into the pot and grabbed another. "I just have a question."
"I know you got a question. Ask it already." Patrice turned on the stove so the potatoes could start boiling. "Hurry up, too. I'm busy. You know them potatoes gotta boil real good 'fore I mash 'em."
"So…" Mercedes finished peeling the last potato, dropped it into the pot, and took a deep breath. Both her parents were usually very understanding, it was something she loved the most about them. There was nothing in this world that her parents didn't know about her, and they made her comfortable enough to tell them anything. But this was something far bigger than anything she had ever asked of them. Something far bigger than she could even wrap her head around…
"So what, 'Cedes? Come on. Spit it out. I ain't got time today. I'm tired. You know the doctor done put me on that new medicine. Whatever you gonna ask me, just ask me."
"Well…" Mercedes took another deep breath. "So I have this friend. And I feel really bad for her, okay? She just walks around school so sad all the time and people are really mean to her anymore. And I just feel bad for her, ma. I feel really bad."
"So whatchu want me to do? You want me to call up that school and talk to somebody? Sit her down and tell her 'bout defending herself?" Patrice swept the potato skins into the trash and wiped the countertop with a Clorox wipe. "I ain't that girl's mama, I can't do nothing to help her."
"See, that's the thing," Mercedes sat at the table and drummed her fingers on her kneecap. "...So her parents kicked her out. They kicked her out and —"
"Uh-uh," Patrice shook her head vehemently. There was no changing her mind about this one. She knew where her daughter was headed and the answer was a hard, fast, strict, unchanging NO. "No, Mercedes. No."
"But mom, just listen!"
"I ain't listening to nothing else, the answer is no. Now get up outta my kitchen before you make me mad. I can't even believe you would —"
"She has nowhere else to go! She's been wearing these dirty clothes all week, she's been falling asleep in Glee club! I don't even think she has a brush to do her hair. She's literally homeless right now, Mom. She's staying with this guy — the father of her baby, actually — but his family is —"
"This girl got a baby?! Hell no. Hell no!"
"Well she's pregnant! That's why her parents kicked her out. She had sex one time and got pregnant and her parents threw her out on the street. Please, mom. Please. She has nowhere else to go. She's literally pregnant and Mom, she's been losing weight because she's so stressed out. She's pregnant, she's not supposed to be losing weight! But she is. She has nowhere else to go and she really needs help. And we can help her, Mom. I know we can. She just needs somewhere to stay. That's all. She just needs somewhere to sleep at night. Somewhere safe. And it's not like we don't have an extra room with Mykel being gone and all."
"Mercedes…" Patrice closed her eyes and tilted her head up to the ceiling. "You're giving me a headache. Now I said no. Alright? I know you wanna help this girl 'cause you got a big heart, but we can't take her in. Okay? I don't know nothing about this girl. I don't know how her folks is gonna take to her staying with somebody else, I don't know if she got behavioral problems, I don't know nothing about her. And it's not just me I gotta think about here. I'd have to discuss it with your Daddy and it's just too much. Think about what you're asking." She put her fingertips under Mercedes' chin and lifted her head. "I know you wanna help her, squish. I know you do. But it's just a lot."
"Then can she at least come to dinner one night this week?" Mercedes sighed, officially giving up hope. "She's losing a lot of weight and I'm really worried about her. I'd feel better if she had one decent meal."
"She ain't been eating?" Patrice stirred the potatoes on the stove. "What kinda place she stayin' at where they won't let her eat? You sure she ain't been eating?"
"I don't think so. The guy she's living with… I guess his family is Jewish and they're kinda strict about what they let her eat. But honestly? I just don't think she's comfortable there. She can't sleep, she can't eat… she literally scarfs down the lunch in school because she's so hungry."
"And her parents just threw her out? Just like that?"
"Just like that. She told them she was pregnant and her dad set a timer on the microwave and told her to pack as much stuff as she can in five minutes and get out. She's been bouncing around. She lived with one guy first but then everything got messed up there, so then she stayed on the streets for a few days. She slept on the bench outside of the dollar store for two whole nights, Mom. Then she moved in with the guy with now and it's still not a good situation. I just know that we could offer her better."
"What's this girl's name?"
"Quinn. Quinn Fabray. She's rough around the edges, but she's really nice and —"
"Fabray… like that company downtown?"
"Yeah, her dad owns that."
"I ain't liked that motherfucker since he got your Daddy that ticket for having his hazards on outside the building." Patrice rolled her eyes. "I tell you what. Imma talk to your Daddy tonight. See what he thinks. I ain't saying yes, so don't go get this girl's hopes up. But I ain't saying no either. Lemme just talk to your Daddy."
"Thank you so much, Mom." Mercedes wrapped her arms around her mother's waist and squeezed. Her mother wasn't expressly saying "yes", but she knew that she was tugging on her heartstrings and anytime her mother started to feel bad for someone, it was game over. She knew that they'd give Quinn a place to stay. Her parents were just too good to say no. "Trust me on this. I wouldn't ask if I didn't think we could actually help her. She's good. She's rough, but she's good. Trust me."
"I trust you, baby." Mrs. Jones patted her daughter on the butt, then pressed her lips to her temple. "I can't get mad at you for having a good heart. But you know it's going to be a big undertaking if your Daddy says yes."
"She literally just needs somewhere to shower and sleep. She wouldn't be any trouble, she —"
"I ain't gonna let her just stay upstairs and not eat, and she can't be living here and not going to school. So that's gon' be two of you that I gotta make dinner for, get up for school in the morning, stay on top of the homework and stuff…" Patrice sighed. "You always dragging me into some shit."
"Mom, I promise she won't be any trouble. I promise. She just doesn't have anywhere else to go and I know that we could help her. I know we can."
With her eyes still closed, Patrice grinned softly at the memory and tried to use it to replace the one she had of Quinn lying on the bathroom floor.
Mercedes was so sure back then, she thought to herself. She just knew that it was the right thing to do. She was so sure of herself. That was one of the things she loved the most about her daughter. She had a big heart and she led with it, even when she should have been airing on the side of caution. She admired that about Mercedes and hoped that quality would never go away.
"It's been an hour and a half," she whispered to her husband as soon as Mercedes was out of the room and far enough away that she wouldn't hear anything. "Anything that takes this long probably ain't good, huh?"
"Just keep praying." Mr. Jones stroked his thumb across her fingers as he held her hand and tried his best to reassure her. But the truth was that she was right. He wasn't a doctor, but he remembered just enough from general classes in dental school to know that an hour in surgery was not a good sign. It meant that whatever happened to Quinn wasn't an easy fix. And God, he and his family just wanted it to be something easy.
"What are we gonna say to 'Cedes when they come out here and tell us that she dead? How do we hold her up through that?" Mrs. Jones asked, a soft tear rolling down her tired cheek. "She ain't never had to deal with nothing like that before."
"We don't have to tell her anything, love. We don't have to tell her anything because Quinn's okay. She's okay. We're gonna take her back home at the end of this, we're gonna make sure she's okay, we're gonna take her to a doctor that knows how to deal with whatever she's going through, and it's going to be fine. We don't have to tell 'Cedes anything." The way her husband's voice sounded when it fell upon her ears was almost enough to comfort her. It was almost enough to make her believe everything he said would come true.
"I can't lose her, Jare." Patrice shook her head slowly. "I can't lose her. I'll be trying to hold 'Cedes up through her best friend's death but I ain't even gonna be able to hold myself up. I can't lose her. That's our daughter, y'know? Love her too much."
"I know, love. I know. That's why we keep praying. Someone bigger than us is gonna take care of her. Someone bigger than us is gonna see her through."
"You ever think it was gonna come to this?" She picked her head up finally and tried for the millionth time tonight to pull herself together. "When she was standin' in 'Kel's bedroom just listening to the rules, you ever think it was gonna come to this? You think we was gonna love her like that?"
"No," Jared admitted with a slight smile. "I thought she was gonna be gone by the end of that week. But leave it to 'Cedes to drag us into some shit that we can't get out of."
"I know," Patrice laughed softly. "She swore it was just temporary, now look at us…"
"Towels are in this closet here," Mrs. Jones stopped at the closet that was at the top of their steps, and stepped aside so Quinn could make her way up. She pulled the closet door open and grabbed a clean towel off the top rack and a washcloth off the bottom. "I wash 'em every Thursday so make sure it's in the basket on Thursday if it's dirty."
Quinn just nodded and squeezed the straps to her duffle bag. Patrice knew the second she saw her that this was going to be more than temporary. Mercedes brought her home today after school and she stood in their house like she was a small fish in a big pond. She looked around at everything like she was trying to make herself familiar, but every time someone spoke to her, it looked like she might cry. She held onto her bag like her life depended on it. She held onto that bag like it was exactly what it was — the only things left in the world she had.
"Imma finish clearing this room out." Patrice continued down the hallway and Quinn followed her slowly. She flicked the lightswitch on and put Quinn's towel and washcloth on the bed. "Imma put the rest of our son's stuff in the basement tomorrow, but the sheets is clean. I changed the sheets this morning. 'Cedes is usually in bed by 9:30-10:00. I'll come in and wake you up for school if you need me to."
Again, Quinn just nodded and took in the scenery of her new bedroom. She felt lost. When Mercedes approached her with the idea of staying at her house, she was grateful. She was grateful to get out of Puck's house and grateful to have a new place where she would hopefully feel safe enough to sleep at night. But it was officially starting to set in now. She had to stay with Mercedes now. She had to stay here because she had nowhere else to go. She felt so utterly alone in this world and the only time she was reminded that she wasn't was when she felt a flutter in her stomach.
"You can put your bag down, Sugar." Mrs. Jones said as she started fluffing the pillows on the bed. "And you can take a shower if you need to. Dinner's about ready to come out the oven too, if you hungry." Like she'd been doing since she stepped foot into the house, Quinn just nodded. "Alright, I'll leave you to it. Just holler if you need anything."
Mrs. Jones walked toward the door and grabbed the doorknob to pull it shut behind her but just as it was about to shut all the way, Quinn grabbed it and looked at her with tears in her beautiful hazel eyes.
"...Thank you." She whispered and held Mrs. Jones' gaze.
It was then when Patrice realized exactly what she was doing. It was then, looking into the eyes of a lost, scared, broken little girl that she realized just how much the bed and the shower and the meal meant to her. And suddenly, she was happy to help.
"You're welcome, sweetie." Patrice touched her hand and Quinn's jaw tightened when she did. She wasn't used to being touched so gingerly, wasn't used to someone using their touch to comfort her. It made her uncomfortable, but she liked it. "...You ever wanna talk about anything… just lemme know."
Quinn bit her bottom lip and took a deep breath. Something about Mrs. Jones made her feel comfortable. She didn't know if it was the way warmth radiated off her existence. Maybe it was the way she felt as though she genuinely cared. Whatever it was, it made Quinn feel like this was somewhere she could actually relax. It made her feel like she didn't have to run anymore.
"The boy…" Quinn looked down at the ground as she spoke. Mrs. Jones had to listen carefully so she could make out exactly what she was saying. Quinn spoke like she was afraid of something. And Mrs. Jones wanted to find out exactly what that was. "The one I'm… pregnant to… I—"
Quinn stopped and dropped the subject instantly as she heard two knocks on the doorframe. She glanced up to see who it was; her body stiffened when she saw Mercedes' dad in the doorway. She closed her mouth like she hadn't even been talking and kept her head geared towards the ground.
"Just seeing how things are going up here," Mr. Jones chimed. "How you settling in there, Quinn?" Quinn nodded at him. He noticed that she refused to make eye contact with him, but he decided not to press it. "The timer on the stove went off."
"Just take it out the oven, babe. I'll be down in a minute." Mrs. Jones patted her husband's chest to shoo him away, then turned her attention back to Quinn. "What were you saying, sweetie?"
Quinn looked at the ground for a few more moments before she picked her head up and made eye contact with Mrs. Jones again.
"...How do you work your shower?"
"You remember how she was scared of me?" Jared asked. "She wouldn't even look me in the eye, she got all quiet every time I came in the room."
"Yeah, and we couldn't figure out why she was scared for the life of us." Patrice sighed. "...Guess it makes sense now."
"I wish she would've told us what that boy did to her the first time she was with us." He sighed too. "Maybe then we wouldn't be here."
"You think what he did contributed to this?" Patrice looked at him. "You think this is 'cause of what he did to her?"
"I think Quinn's whole life contributed to this." Jared ran his fingers across his head as if he had hair to run them through. "I think what he did might have just pushed her over the edge."
I watched the lights on the elevator count down from thirteen, and my leg was shaking. I haven't had an anxiety attack in years, not since I started taking this one pill, but I was having one in that moment. My heart was beating a thousand miles a minute, my leg was shaking even though I was standing, and I couldn't even type on my phone because my hands were trembling.
Eleven… ding. Ten… ding. Nine… ding. Eight… ding.
It had eight more floors to get through before it got to me on the ground level, and it was moving at maybe five seconds per floor. Five seconds per floor, but it felt like five years and I had to fight the urge to find a map and take the stairs. I didn't care if it was floor number or five or floor number fifty-five. I would've ran up a million staircases just to get to her.
I hoped nobody asked me how I got to where I was, because I wouldn't be able to tell them. I sort of remembered putting on my coat. I sort of remembered speeding down the highway. I sort of remembered running through the parking lot when I got here. But I didn't remember anything about the moments before that, which kind of scared me. Because what if this was the last memory I get to make of this moment? What if when I got up to the floor they had her on, they came out and told us the unthinkable? They'll tell us that they did everything they could but their best wasn't enough and I'd be attending a funeral by the end of next week. If this was the last memory I got to make of this moment and I couldn't even remember it? Well, I'd never quite forgive myself.
The elevator doors pulled apart when it made one last ding, and I had never been more excited to see Mercedes in my entire life. I couldn't feel my legs because they were shaking so bad, but I managed to run into the elevator as soon as I saw her because I didn't want to waste a single minute.
She pressed a button with a pink number six in the middle of it until it lit up and grabbed onto the rainbow colored railing that went all the way around it. She said that getting up to the floor they had her on was confusing, but what's confusing about pressing the number six? All she had to do was tell me which floor they had her on and I wouldn't have had to wait for her to come get me. I could've ran up the stairs.
"What are they saying?" I broke the palpable silence between us, but kept my back turned towards her and watched the lights as the elevator climbed the floors again. "Are they saying what happened? What caused it?"
"Not anything for sure yet. They said she threw up and there was blood and a tear in her throat, but I guess she's been going into cardiac arrest and —"
"Cardiac arrest?!" I turned around and faced her and I couldn't figure out how the hell she looked so calm. She didn't have an ounce of worry on her face, not even a trace of tears. Did she not care about Quinn at all? "She had a heart attack?!"
"I guess, I don't really know." She shook her head and covered her face like this has been the most stressful night of her life. And maybe it has, I don't know. I don't know if she's ever been through anything like this before, but I haven't. I haven't and I don't know what to expect, but I am acting a little more concerned than she is.
I closed my eyes and took a really deep breath before I turned around again. I knew that it was serious. I knew that it had to be pretty serious because they airlifted her here and you don't do that for people unless they're really bad off. But I didn't expect to hear that she's been having a heart attack… What have I done?
"Rachel." Mercedes stepped closer to me and put her hand on my shoulder. I didn't want her to touch me, though. I didn't want her to comfort me. I didn't deserve to be comforted. Not whenever the last memory of me Quinn would have is me cheating on her. "It's… it's bad, okay?"
"How bad?" My voice broke and my jaw started trembling like my fingers, but I didn't want Mercedes to see me cry. I kept my back to her and tried my hardest to keep myself strong. "What the hell happened, Mercedes? How did you find her?"
"I don't know what happened. Nobody knows what happened. She was fine, I swear. She was fine. She and my mom had an argument and she said something really messed up to my mom, so I went upstairs to talk to her about it and I knocked on the bathroom door but she wouldn't answer. So I went inside and… Rachel, I've never seen anything like that. Ever. And I don't think I'll ever get that image out of my head. She was just LAYING there. She was just laying there… and there was so much blood. I honestly thought she shot herself or something because that was SO much blood."
"Oh God…" I swallowed whatever vomit rose up in the back of my throat and put my hand on my stomach as if I could prevent more from coming up. I had to put my hand against the wall to steady myself. "So they're not saying anything? They just have her back in surgery and they're not saying anything?"
"Not yet. We've just been waiting. We've just been —"
"I should've been there," I whispered, more to myself than to her.
"You didn't want to see that. Trust me. It looked really bad."
"I should have been there! You don't get it!" I held onto the wall with both my hands now and put my head down. I didn't want Mercedes to see me cry, but I couldn't help myself anymore. My shoulders bobbed up and down, and I cried so hard that nothing came out of me except low breaths. "She's gonna die hating me… she's gonna die hating me… I love her so much and she's gonna die hating me… Oh god…"
"Rachel, look at me." She grabbed me by my shoulders and spun me around so that I faced her. She wanted me to look at her but I couldn't. I kept my head down and my eyes were too misty with tears to look at her. "I don't care what happened between you and Quinn. I don't care who you kissed or why you did it, all I care about is that Quinn gets better. And if she does die…" She swallows hard after saying that and finally, a tear slips out of her eye too. "If she does die tonight… I know she would want you here. She loves you too. Don't ever think that she doesn't. I know Quinn. And I know for a fact that she loves you."
"I just need her to be okay." I wiped my tears as the elevator doors slid open again. "I need her to be okay. I love her so much… and I need her to be okay. I need her to know that I'm sorry. And I never meant to hurt her."
"She knows." Mercedes laid her arm around my shoulder as we walked off the elevator and down a hallway which animal footprints on the floor. "Believe me, she knows."
As we walked down the hallway and into a lobby that was pink, I didn't know what to expect. I knew that I wasn't going to see Quinn when I walked into the waiting room, but my heart thundered in my chest like I was going to. I tried to wrap my head around what Mercedes said. I thought about how she was laying on the floor in a puddle of blood. I thought about how she wasn't breathing. I thought about how she was all alone when it happened. I thought about how I should have been there with her when it happened, or at least with Mercedes' family when they found her. I thought about how it might feel to see her like that and my head started spinning. It almost felt like my body believed that I was going to see that.
We walked into the waiting room finally, and I looked up at the sign that said "Emergency Surgery Department." My stomach started to hurt. I thought I had enough time to process all of this on the drive down here, but seeing that sign made it so much more real. Quinn was in surgery. It was an emergency. She was critically ill.
There were tons of empty chairs in the waiting room, and the only full section was occupied by Mercedes' parents and a woman in a gray suit. Mercedes took her arm from around me when she wanted to move a little faster, and practically sprinted over to where her parents and the lady were. I picked up my own pace just a little.
"What's going on?" Mercedes asked her parents and looked at the lady. "Who are you?"
I lingered in the back because I didn't feel like it was my place to be involved. She didn't look like a doctor, so I doubted it an update of any kind. I didn't need to listen. It wasn't my business to listen. But I really couldn't help it.
"I'm Courtney Kirkland, and I'm with child services of Allen County." She seemed really professional and down to business, which made me a little nervous. Why was child services here? Did they think somebody hurt Quinn?
"You guys don't seriously think we hurt Quinn, do you? Because we didn't. If anything, we helped her. She came to us because her mom —"
"Mercedes, sit down and hush your mouth." Her dad mumbled. "She's just asking questions."
Mercedes glanced at me, then motioned with her head for me to sit down next to her. I unzipped my coat since it was warm, took it off, tucked it on the cushion of my chair, then sat down. I unlocked my phone to pretend to be busy, but I was really listening in reality.
"I have here that your address is 950 Leland Avenue in Lima, is that correct?" The social worker asked.
"Yes ma'am." Mercedes' dad seemed to take the lead on answering, and her mom looked worn down.
"And is Lucy's address the same?"
"Yes ma'am."
"Okay," she checked off a box on the stack of papers she had on her clipboard. "And do you rent, own, or rent to own your home?"
"We own it. Bought it back before we had our son."
"And you're a dentist, correct?"
"That's correct."
"And what do you do for work, ma'am?" She looked at Mrs. Jones, who finally picked her tired head up.
"I stay at home with the kids." Her voice was gravelly and raspy like she was talking through the exhaustion.
"Okay," the social worker checked off another box and it kind of annoyed me how methodical she was being. It almost felt like she was treating them like criminals before even figuring out if they did anything wrong. "So can you tell me about Lucy? How long has she been in your custody? How involved are her biological parents? What kind of child is she?"
"Um…" Mr. Jones cleared his throat. "We don't have her legally. I mean, she's not our child legally. We didn't go through court and get custody. She and her parents have a rocky relationship and she just came to stay with us for a while. We've had her for about two or three months. Her parents aren't involved at all. Sometimes her mother will send her some money, but that's not often."
"I see," she scribbles that down in her notebook. "And what kind of child is she? Is she happy? Thriving? What does she like to do?"
"She's a good girl," Mrs. Jones finally spoke and I saw her face light up a little bit at the opportunity to talk about Quinn, which I thought was really sweet. She was loved by the Joneses, I could see that. "She makes straight As, takes honors classes. She's involved in the Glee club at school and she really likes to perform. She's really sweet. She's a little… she's mouthy. She can get a little outta line sometimes, but she good. She got good manners and she's always asking me if I need help around the house. She ain't… she ain't the happiest child, but she got dealt a raw deal in life, so."
"And when you say a 'raw deal', what exactly do you mean?"
"She was raped sometime last year. Some boy she go to school with was raping on her. And she got pregnant from that. So her parents kicked her out and that's how she came to be with us the first time."
"Okay, and has she gotten any help for the rape? How is she coping with that?"
"She got a therapist. She goes to see her therapist twice a week — we make sure she do — and she's on medicine to help her out. She spent a little bit of time in a psychiatric hospital last summer, but she's been doing okay ever since. Some days are bad, but other days… you know."
"So aside from the rape, do you know what other issues she was working on while inside the hospital?"
"Uh, no. Just that, mostly. I mean she was working on every —"
"She really struggled with having a baby to her rapist," I spoke up because I didn't like staying silent was the right thing to do.
They didn't know Quinn the way I knew Quinn. I could tell they didn't just by what they said about her being okay. Quinn was the furthest thing from okay. I can't blame them for not knowing, because even I didn't know how far it went. But I was the closest person to her. I knew almost everything there was to know about her. How could I stay silent when someone was questioning them like that? Especially when I knew the answers?
"She struggled with that and with her parents a whole lot. She and her mom just didn't get along and her dad… well he was pretty awful, too." I grabbed onto my necklace that I still wore. I brushed my thumb along the "Q" and tried my hardest not to think about how Quinn could easily go from being someone I know to someone I knew.
"Thank you," Courtney Kirkland nodded her head in my direction. "And what's your name, for the record?"
"Rachel Berry."
"And your relationship to Lucy is…?"
"I'm her friend. I'm her really close friend." I had to really try not to cry when I said that, because it hurt. It hurt that I couldn't say she was my girlfriend anymore.
"She's Quinn's girlfriend," Mercedes spoke in the loudest voice between the four of us, and I started to wish that I had her confidence. She said that as if she just stated a fact. Like someone asked her what two plus two is and she answered four. "She has a bad relationship with her mom because she's gay and her mom hates her for it."
"Okay," Courtney mumbled. "And Rachel, how long have you and Lucy been involved?"
"Two months." I held onto my necklace for strength. "It's funny, it… it seems like longer, but that's it. Two months."
"Thank you for answering that." She flipped the page on her clipboard and returned her attention back to the Joneses. "I'd like to ask about tonight if that's okay."
"Whatever you need to know." Mr. Jones nodded.
"So the last time you saw Lucy was when?"
"About 1:00 this afternoon. She came home from school early because she wasn't feeling well." Mrs. Jones sat up straight as though these were questions that she was fully prepared to answer.
"And she's been sick for how long?"
"She been complaining since Sunday. I thought she was just tired 'cause they came back from Pittsburgh. They had a show choir competition and I figured she was tired from traveling. But she still ain't feel good so I kept her home on Monday."
"And which one of you authorized her leaving school today?"
"Neither of us, actually. She just left on her own terms." I winced when Mrs. Jones said that because I didn't think it was going to go over very well. "She got a car, so she can just go as she pleases. But she suspended for it, so."
"And is that common? Does Lucy always leave school on her own terms?"
"No," Mrs. Jones shook her head. "Never, actually. So that's how I knew she must have been really sick."
"Right. So how was she when she came home? Did she appear sick to you? Any fever? Chills? Nausea? Sweating?"
"Well she came through the door upset. I went to go calm her down and see what was wrong, but she got mouthy with me and said a few choice words. So we argued about that. I went up to her room and we argued."
"And what kind of punishment did you enact?"
"Nothing at the time. I just gave her a warning and let her stay in her room until she calmed herself down. I ain't think she was capable of having a good conversation when she was upset like that, so I ain't push her."
"And what was she upset about?"
"I ain't got no clue. I ain't get a chance to talk to her about it 'cause this mess happened."
"I see…" Courtney flipped to the next page. "You spoke about having another child? A son?"
"Yes ma'am," Mrs. Jones cleared her throat softly. "We have a son named Mykel, and then Mercedes is our daughter."
"Okay, good. And if you don't mind my asking, what type of discipline did you use on your children growing up?"
"Time out, mostly." I held my breath when Mrs. Jones answered, because I had a feeling in my gut and I knew where this was going. I knew where it was going and I couldn't stop it. All I could do was sit and watch it happen. "If they did something really bad, then they got a spanking. But we had good kids, so it was time out mostly."
"And what constituted as 'really bad'? What type of behavior warranted a spanking?"
"I dunno, if they was mouthing off they'd get popped in the mouth. Running out in the street, they get popped on the butt. Spitting, hitting, getting in trouble in school, cussing… things like that, I guess. I dunno, it's been years." She shrugged.
"And you stated that Lucy was 'mouthy' when she arrived home from school today, yes? Is it fair to say you were angry when she did this?"
"She was mouthy and I was mad, but hold on." Mrs. Jones held one finger up. "You ain't about to make this into something it ain't. I ain't put my hands on Quinn today or ever. Now if you looking for a reason for why this happened, then come on. I'm with you on it, we need to get to the bottom of this. But this ain't happen 'cause someone in my house was beating on her. No ma'am. Quinn might have been abused, but it wasn't going on under my roof. Nope."
"Quinn loves it at the Joneses house," I said softly. "Me and her always talk about it and she loves it. She wishes she could stay forever. They would never hurt her. Ever."
"Okay." Courtney flipped to the last page and sighed like she hated her job or something. "I just have one more thing to ask you about. Can you describe the state Lucy was in when she was found?"
"Our daughter found her, actually." Mr. Jones spoke up. "Mercedes was the one who found her. But anything you have to ask her, you can ask us. We know her story. I'm not comfortable with you questioning my daughter. And that goes for Rachel, too. These girls are minors. They haven't done anything wrong. So any further questions… just ask us."
"I just need to figure out what was happening when she was found, that's all sir." She tried to smile at him but Mr. Jones wasn't having it. He held strong and I almost thought the social worker was going to falter.
"It's okay, dad. I can answer." Mercedes assured him and used that same confidence in her voice. "I went upstairs to talk to Quinn about the fight she and my mom had. She was in the bathroom, so I knocked. I knocked a few times but she didn't answer, so I opened the door myself and that's when I saw her."
"And what exactly did you see?"
"She was laying there. She was face down, but her head was like… pointing to the left almost. Her cheek and half her nose and mouth were against the floor. And she wasn't moving. Her eyes were closed and she wasn't moving."
I felt sick hearing the details. It was strange because at some point, I had wanted to hear all the details. I wanted to know where Quinn was when they found her, what she was doing and if she was breathing. I wanted to know everything there was to know. But now that I was actually hearing them, it sort of made me sick.
"And there was blood on the floor?"
"Yes. There was a lot of blood on the floor. And —"
"How much blood would you say?" She stopped writing. "Enough to fill up a two liter soda bottle? Enough to fill up two? Enough to fill up half?"
"Probably enough to fill up one and a half. There was a lot of it. It was all over the floor. It was on the floor, on the rug, in the toilet, in the sink… it was everywhere." I had to close my eyes hearing they. Something about Quinn bleeding out and lying on the floor alone made me want to cry.
"And was there anything else in the toilet? Any indication that she had been vomiting prior?"
"I didn't look. All I did was drop to my knees and try to wake her up. I shook her for a second and then I called my mom."
"And that's when you got there, Mrs. Jones?"
"Yes. I ran upstairs and I saw her there, too. She was still laying face down, so I grabbed her and turned her over to see if she was breathing. I pulled her into my lap like this," Mrs. Jones started motioning with her hands to tell the story. "I pulled her into my lap and turned her over and called her name. She didn't respond, so I called my husband."
"And when I got there, I took over." Mr. Jones started explaining his side of the story. "I started doing CPR on her and told my wife to call the ambulance."
"And did you do mouth to mouth resuscitation or just chest compressions?"
"I was gonna do mouth to mouth, but her jaw was shut. I had to pry her jaw open. It was like, clenched or something. I thought she was having a seizure or something. But I got her mouth open. I got her mouth open and I was about to do mouth to mouth, but she had blood in it. I mean, she had CLOTS of blood in her mouth. I had to scoop the clots out."
"She had blood in her mouth?" I asked Mercedes, feeling my stomach squeezing so tight that I couldn't breathe. "You didn't tell me she had blood in her mouth… why didn't you tell me she had blood in her mouth?" I stood up and looked at Mercedes like she betrayed me.
"When I told you she was bleeding from her mouth, I thought you would —" She grabbed my arm and tried to calm me down, but I pulled away. "Rachel, come on."
"No!" I back away from her and eye the garbage can across the room. "You didn't tell me she had blood in her mouth… she had blood in her mouth, Mercedes… and I wasn't there…"
"Rachel, it's okay. It's —"
"I'm gonna be sick." I mumble with my mouth only halfway open.
"What?" Mercedes asked, but I was already across the room.
I grabbed the rim of the garbage can, opened my mouth, and let everything in my stomach just come out.
"Hang another unit of blood, just to be on the safe side. I have two more sutures to put in and then you can take her off ecmo." The only female doctor in the room speaks softly to the rest of them who are helping her take care of me.
"Good work, Dr. Barnes. I don't know how you do it. I didn't think this little girl was gonna pull through." One of the nurses hooks a bag of blood into my IV and it kind of grosses me out a little bit, having someone else's blood in my body.
"She's not out of the woods yet," Dr. Barnes finishes stitching my throat off and eyeballs her work. "She's gonna have a long recovery. Parents say she's a singer… I dunno how much singing she'll be doing anymore."
"Hey. At least she's alive." The nurse replies.
"I just want to know what makes a beautiful little girl like this… destroy her body." She looks down at my face and smiles behind her mask. "She's awfully pretty."
Listen, doctor. I know you don't understand it right now and maybe you'll never understand it, but if your life was as out of control as mine has been lately, maybe you'd get it. Maybe you'd understand if you had a dad who hates you and a mother who can't be bothered to defend you. Maybe you'd understand if you have to live with a family that probably only takes care of you because they feel sorry for you. Maybe if you were a gay teenager trying to navigate through life with a baby by a man who raped you, you'd get it. And maybe if the love of your life cheated on you, you would understand me. Maybe if you kissed your therapist and ruined the last good thing in your life, you'd want a little control too.
My life is so messy right now… and I didn't mean to do this to myself, I swear I didn't mean it. I just wanted some control over what happens to me. I just wanted to have a say so in the things that go on in my life. I just wanted to know that if I threw up, I would step on the scale and be a couple pounds lighter. That's all I wanted. Just a little bit of control. I never meant for this to happen to me.
But maybe it happened for a reason. Maybe I was given a second chance. Maybe this is my chance to finally escape from all of it… and maybe I should take it.
Why should I lie here on this operating table and fight for a life I don't even want to live anymore? Bailey's gone and Rachel's gone and Russel and Judy hate me and the Joneses are going to get rid of me for cussing. Puck's still around. Beth's got Shelby. What am I even needed for?
Why should I fight for this life if I don't even want to live it?
"Doctor, her stats are dropping!" The nurse yells as the monitors that I'm hooked up to start beeping like crazy. "Her BP's through the roof."
"Restart ecmo and charge the paddles to 250, she's tachycardic." The doctor barks her orders and the other nurse hands her the paddles. "Clear!" When they shock me, my body jolts really bad and I'm glad that I'm asleep otherwise it probably would have hurt. "Come on, kiddo. Come on. Don't do this. You came so far…"
They shock me again and I think it's time for me to go. I don't want to live this life anymore. Everyone will be okay without me, I know they will. Mom and Dad still have Mercedes to dote on. Russel and Judy have Frannie. Beth has Shelby. Mercedes will become best friends with Tina and Rachel will be okay with Finn and Kurt. I won't make a difference if I go. They'll be sad for a little while but it's nothing they can't get over. They'll be fine without me. I don't make a difference either way. It's time for me to go. I'm tired of fighting. I'm tired of living like I'm constantly at war within myself. This just isn't worth it anymore.
While the monitors are still beeping like crazy, I leave the operating room and walk down the hallway. I just want to see everyone one last time before I go. I want to look at them one last time and know that they loved me as best as they could while I was here on earth, but it's time for them to let me go.
I walk up the hallway and drag my finger along the wall as I walk. The floor is cold underneath of my feet and I don't know what happened to my fuzzy socks. My gown is still perfectly intact and I guess they wiped off the blood because my face is white again even though my hair is still sticky. My chest still burns and my throat feels horrible, but it'll all be over soon. I think that wherever I go, I won't be in pain. That sounds nice, doesn't it?
I round the corner and turn into the waiting room. There's Mom, there's Dad, there's Mercedes, and there's…
Rachel?!
Rachel came?!
I run over to them as fast as I can and throw myself against her body because I really missed her! I missed her, I missed kissing her, I missed hugging her, I missed the way she smells… I know she kissed Finn, but I missed her so much and maybe I don't forgive her, but I kissed her. I've been so alone...
I wrap my arms around her as she sits, but she doesn't budge and that's when I remember that she can't see me.
"Are you cold all of a sudden?" She asks Mercedes.
"Not really." Mercedes replies and hands Rachel her jacket. "You know you can go home, Rach. We might not hear anything for a while. I'll text you and keep you updated."
"I'm not going anywhere." Rachel curls up in the chair she's sitting in and rests her head against the wall. "Quinn needs me here."
"Why don't you two go down to the cafeteria and get something to eat before they close?" Dad reaches into his back pocket and fishes out a twenty dollar bill. "You two need to eat. It could be a while."
"I'm not hungry," Mercedes sighs.
"Me either." Rachel sighs too.
They all look so sad. Mom's eyes are puffy and Dad's got permanent frown lines by his mouth. Mercedes won't pick her head up and Rachel's eyes are really red. They all look like they're so sad to be here. Are they sad because of me? Because if so, they don't need to be sad. I'll be fine where I'm going. I won't be suffering anymore. I won't be a stranger in my own head and I won't make things hard for everyone. They can let me go. I'll be fine.
"Remember when she made that list in Glee Club? And she called herself a hoe?" Mercedes fights through a laugh when she says that.
Rachel purses her lips together to avoid laughing too, but she fails. She laughs hard and loud. "She was horrible back then, oh my god." She shakes her head and laughs so hard there are tears in her eyes. "No, remember when she beat the shit out of Santana with that pillow for saying something about Beth? At your sleepover?"
"She really did beat the shit out of her, didn't she?!" Mercedes nudged Rachel with her elbow and laughed harder. "Or when we were at Cedar Point and a bug flew in her mouth on Millennium Force?!"
"She spent the whole ride coughing!" Rachel wipes the tears that fell from her laughing. "When we got off, she was trying to fight every mosquito that she saw because she said they were trying to kill her!"
"Ah, Quinn," Mercedes shook her head as her laughter winded down. "She's a mess, isn't she?"
"She is…" Rachel looked up at the ceiling, still smiling. "But she's our mess, you know?"
Mercedes nods and puts her head up against Rachel's shoulder. Rachel just keeps looking up at the ceiling, but she doesn't seem bothered by Mercedes laying on her. They have each other. They've got each other and I never thought I'd see this day.
"You know, the first time she came to stay with us, she wouldn't look my dad in the eye? She was so afraid of him." Mercedes says, loud enough for everyone to hear her.
"Really?" Rachel asks.
"Really," Dad leans forward in his chair to join in the conversation. "It took three weeks for the girl to say a word to me. I figured she just had issues with men."
"She did," Rachel nods. "Her dad really messed her up and then what Puck did… she just… she's had it rough. She's had it rough and she fought to get to where she's at now. ...I love her so much."
"We all love her, baby girl." Mom pats Rachel on the shoulder. "We all love her. And she knows we're here. She knows we're all rooting for her."
"You think so?" Rachel sniffs back tears.
"I know so."
I think I made a mistake… I think I made a mistake by leaving… oh god, I made a mistake. Is it too late?!
I turn around and run as fast as I can back up the hallway and do the operating room. Please don't let it be too late, please don't let it be too late. I made a mistake by leaving, I should have stayed in my body. Please don't let it be too late! I messed up! I made a mistake, I don't want to die! I have Mom and Dad and they love me and Mercedes loves me and Rachel loves me and then there's Tina and she's not here but I'm sure she loves me and Santana loves me too I think! And then there's Frannie! Frannie would be heartbroken if I died! And then most importantly, there's Beth! Beth wouldn't know the difference eventually, but for right now, she would! She'd miss me! She'd miss me and Shelby would probably miss me too because she has to deal with someone who loves Beth dying and I made a mistake! And Bailey… oh my god, Bailey… she'll blame herself if I die...
I made a mistake.
I'm out of breath by the time I make it back to the operating room, and I try to push the door open with my hands, but it won't open! It won't open! Oh god, I'm too late! I'm too late!
I smack on the door with my hands, but the surgeons and nurses inside of the operating room don't even hear me.
"HEY!" I scream even though I know they won't answer and my throat feels horrible. "HEY, LET ME IN! LET ME IN!"
I peek through the windows and see the surgeon still shocking me. I hear one of the nurses say that I've been down too long and the line on the heart monitor is flat, but the surgeon won't give up. She keeps shocking me.
"LET ME IN! PLEASE! PLEASE! DON'T LET ME DIE!"
Mercedes and her mother had finally drifted off to sleep about twenty minutes ago, and I didn't understand how they could sleep at a time like this. I just knew that if I had even tried to fall asleep, al I would do is imagine my Quinn lying in her own blood, dying and thinking that I don't love her because I cheated on her.
Mercedes kept her head on my shoulder and it didn't bother me much. Maybe me and Mercedes had our differences, but we were able to come together for Quinn, which I thought was important.
I scrolled through my phone, trying to figure out if I should say something on Instagram or Facebook. It was something I wanted to keep to myself, mostly. I didn't feel like answering any questions. I felt like maybe I should let the Glee Club know, because we're a family and we look after each other when things like this happen. But the more I thought about it, the more I didn't think that Quinn would want that. So I stayed silent and hoped that my dads wouldn't call me. I was probably grounded when I got home; grounded because they told me I shouldn't go to the hospital until I knew it was okay for Quinn to have visitors. Well, I took the car and I'd been there for a few hours and they hadn't even texted me yet.
When I saw the doctor walking into the waiting room from the corner of my eye, I thought I was dreaming. I thought that maybe I had fallen asleep and dreamt that it was time for someone to give us information about my Quinn's status. I even thought that she was there to update someone else. But I locked my phone, looked around the room, and realized that we were the only people there. It had to be for us.
The doctor approached us with her scrub cap still on her head, and I gently shook Mercedes awake as Mr. Jones shook Mrs. Jones awake. I couldn't read the doctor's face. I couldn't tell if it was good news or bad news. She had the best poker face I had ever seen and it made me want to run to the garbage can and throw up again. I hoped to God that she didn't tell me Quinn was dead. I didn't know how I was going to do this without her.
"Are you the family for Lucy?" The doctor asked us with her hands on her hips. She had blood on her shoe covers and a little bit on her scrub pants, which made me feel faint. It was Quinn's blood, I knew that much. I just hoped it wouldn't be the last thing of Quinn's I'd ever see.
"Yes, that's us," Mr. Jones stood up and helped his wife out of the chair. Mercedes stood up too, and standing felt right, so I stood too. "She gonna be okay?"
"I'm Dr. Barnes, I'm the doctor who operated on Lucy." She shook all four of our hands and I wanted to squeeze her hand until she told me what was going on with my Quinn. "Lucy is stable."
"Oh my god," I whispered and held my hand against my chest. My legs felt weak all of a sudden and Mercedes had to hold onto me to keep me up. She hugged me so tight that I couldn't breathe, but it was a good hug; the kind that makes you feel good inside.
"Oh sweet Jesus," Mrs. Jones hugged her husband and then the two of them hugged us. "When can we see her?"
"We just took her into recovery, so it'll be a while. But she is stable and she should make a full recovery and be just fine. We patched a pretty significant tear in her esophagus, and we drained some blood from her lungs. We're going to move her up to the red floor, which is the cardiac floor. We just want to monitor her for a while because she did go into cardiac arrest a few times. We have her on some pretty strong medicine to keep that from happening again. So we're going to monitor her, get a psych consult, and if she checks out well, you should be able to take her home in about three or four days. She'll have to take it easy for at least two weeks and nothing but soft foods because her throat is going to be very sore. No strenuous activities for her heart, and no singing. When she starts coming out of the anesthesia a little bit, we'll let you back and you can go see her and give her some love before we transfer her up to the red floor. Sound good?"
"Yes ma'am," Mr. Jones took a really deep breath and smiled from ear to ear. "Thank you. Thank you so, so much."
"My pleasure, guys. You have a very strong little girl on your hands."
"I just have a question," Mrs. Jones said. "Why would she need a psych consult?"
"Well… the damage we saw when we went in to drain her lungs was pretty extensive. I've honestly never seen a gastrointestinal system with as much damage to it as hers had, and I've dealt with a lot of eating disorder patients. It was very extensive. She's had to have been throwing up — violently — for at a year. At least. Maybe even two or three. She's a strong girl, but she's extremely sick. Extremely. And I would like to have her monitored because she survived this episode, but the next one will kill her if she keeps going on like this. Lucy's been sick for years."
Oh my god, I thought. It's the bulimia… she's bulimic, I should have told them that… oh my god, they're right… Quinn is sick…
"...It was the bulimia, wasn't it? That's what did this to her?" I asked, already knowing the answer. "She's bulimic."
"YOU KNEW?!" Mercedes turned toward me and I had never seen somebody filled with so much rage. "RACHEL, YOU KNEW?!"
"I didn't know it was that bad! I just thought —"
"BUT YOU KNEW?! YOU KNEW AND YOU DIDN'T HELP HER?! YOU DIDN'T SAY ANYTHING!"
"Mercedes, I didn't —" I shook my head. "I love Quinn, I wouldn't have —"
And I stopped talking as soon as I felt her hand, slapping me, hard across my cheek. My hand immediately went up to my face and I tasted the blood coming off my lip.
"Yeah, you love her! You're gonna love Quinn to death!"
A/N: For those of you who forgot (because it was a long time and many chapters ago)... Remember when Rachel found Quinn at home after Santana told the glee club she was in a mental hospital all summer? Remember how Rachel cleaned up Quinn's mess? That's how she knows about Quinn's eating disorder.