HELLO Dear Readers! Another update. Not as fast as the previous chapter, but still fast for me. I'm so excited to share the next chapter with you and hope you enjoy!
All my love,
DARecruit
Chapter 19: The Reveal
Frannie stared at her baby sister in worry and confusion as the girl cried and sputtered out her confession. She was holding Quinn's face in her hands the whole time, brow knitted as she tried desperately to keep up and translate the increasingly-garbled words. She had definitely heard "bully" and "Rachel" loud and clear—and suddenly, the tense interactions, Rachel's growing animosity and Quinn's subsequent weirdness, all clicked into place for the older sister. Frannie let go of her sister then and took a step back, her confusion giving way to anger.
"What—What have you done to Rachel, Quinn? What kind of bullying are we talking about here?" she questioned. The heartbroken sobs spoke of more than simple name calling. She needed to know just how much more.
Quinn continued to sob, explaining in broken spurts about Sue and the Cheerios' traditions, how it had ultimately led her to the cafeteria and the slushie machine (and Rachel)—that she hadn't meant for it to become what it eventually did, but she never could have predicted just how reaching the ripples of her actions would be. There was something about Man-Hands—whatever that meant—and shoving in the hallways, crude drawings on bathroom stalls…the list went on and on.
"So let me get this straight—" Frannie began, finally moving her sister to the sofa and making her sit. She loomed above her. "The only reason you were made cheer captain is because you threw a cup filled with tiny fucking chunks of ice into Rachel's face? What were you thinking, Quinn?!"
Quinn recoiled from her sister's booming voice and harsh words. "I-I didn't—It wasn't meant to…I didn't think it'd be th-that bad! G-Get attention but not hurt anyone. I never m-m-meant to h-hurt anyone!"
Frannie shook her head in disbelief and anger. "You have a funny way of showing it, Q! You—You're the leader of the bully brigade for fu—frick's sake!" Frannie was mad—livid—but she knew she needed to tone it down. She couldn't be cussing at her sister like this. Deep breath in, she held it for a short time, then exhaled. She was still plenty pissed but not quite that red-hot anger she had been moments before. "What happened today? What did you do?"
"N-Nothing!" Quinn insisted through her tears. "I sw-swear I just—"
"Nothing?! She told you to fuck off and nothing happened? She did the same to Lexi and slapped her 'cause nothing happened? Bullshit, Quinn!"
"Fran—I-I didn't do…I tried to apologize, that's all. I swear!" Quinn cried. "I feel awful for—well—everything. I w-wanted her to know I was sorry! She didn't be—believe me. S-Said I was just doing it to get c-closer to Shelby."
"Well that makes two of us!" Frannie seethed.
Quinn sobbed harder. "Please, Fran, you h-have to believe me, I—"
"I don't know what to believe at this point! You weren't raised this way, Quinn Margaret! Mom and Dad didn't raise you this way. I didn't—"
Frannie stopped abruptly, her mind catching up to her words. What was she going to say? She didn't raise Quinn that way? She wasn't raising Quinn. She had continued on being the cool big sister just as she had when their parents were alive—and now that they weren't, well…nothing had changed. Maybe it was time for it to.
Frannie blew out a harsh breath and held her head against the headache that was fast approaching. She needed space. She needed to think. "Stay—stay here," she said, and she turned and hurried up the stairs, leaving her sister alone and sobbing.
Quinn watched her sister disappear upstairs before dropping her head in her hands and letting out an anguished wail. She hadn't known what to expect from Frannie or her reaction, but somehow it all seemed so much worse than anything she could have predicted. Frannie was so mad. It wasn't lost on Quinn that her sister had two-named her—a first from her, that was for sure. What did it mean?
Frannie's mind was reeling as she made it upstairs and, without thinking, she found herself in the master bedroom—her parents' bedroom. She had spent countless time in this room throughout her childhood. Lazy Sunday mornings cuddled in between her mom and dad while she giggled and they groaned at the early wake-up call; safe under the covers after being woken in the middle of the night by storm or scary dream; comforted in steadfast arms after a scraped knee or broken heart.
Sinking down on the edge of the king-size bed, Frannie looked around the room. It was exactly the same as they had left it, frozen in time…ready and waiting for them to return, as if they could at any moment. She and Quinn normally avoided this room, keeping the door closed against the pain of what was missing. Frannie did come in here at times when she needed to feel close to her parents. Every now and then she could actually still smell them.
"What am I supposed to do? You left me alone with her. She needs you both now—I need you both!" Frannie all but yelled into the air above her. Then, falling backwards to sprawl out on the bed, she stared up at the ceiling. She didn't realize she was crying until the tears trickled down the sides of her cheeks and tickled the outside of an ear.
She had cried many times in this room, as well—both when her parents were alive and after. Both her mother and father were firm believers in discipline. They were fair, never overly harsh—definitely strict. Frannie could remember every single time she had been sent or brought into this room to wait and face the consequences of her most willful or dangerous behavior.
Perhaps her most memorable times happened just after she had turned thirteen—it also had to deal with bullying. A new girl had started at school and for some reason, Frannie and her friends had taken an instant disliking to her. The feeling had seemed to be mutual, but because there was three of them against one of her, and she was new, things were so much worse coming from their end. It had started off innocently enough with some name-calling on both ends, but soon Frannie and her friends had escalated things.
It was in the spring, during an outdoor gym class. There was a school-wide Capture the Flag game happening so every gym period, kids got to run amuck on the schools' fields trying to find buried plastic hockey stick heads. It included both the boys' and girls' gym classes, where most of the time they were separated, so the whole thing was a big deal and looked forward to each year by all of the students. Frannie and her two friends, Kimmy and Danielle, had third-period gym with the girl—Nikki was her name. Nikki had recently taken a liking to the same boy Frannie liked. Christopher Massey—who also happened to be in the same period gym class. The girls had spotted Nikki talking to Christopher and it just happened. Kimmy had egged her on, sure, but in the end, Frannie had made the decision to run up to Nikki and pants her right in front of Christopher and about fifteen other kids. It was horrible. Nikki had just started sobbing out of complete and utter humiliation. Everyone laughed and pointed at her. Frannie still cringed thinking back on it—and everything that followed.
She had gotten sent to the office, of course. Judy had been called and came to school with a one-and-a-half-year-old baby Quinn in tow. To say her mother had been livid would be an understatement. Principal Harrison had explained the situation and the ongoing bullying happening from Frannie and her friends; he said Frannie was to receive two days of in-school suspension—one day for the pantsing and one for the rest of the bullying. Her friends had both gotten one day and been sent back to class with notes for their parents to sign. Frannie remembered with a blush how her mother had told the man not to worry, Frannie would never behave this way again, and he could rest assured she would spend both ISS days sitting on a very sore bottom.
Frannie was then sent home with a fuming Judy who made good on her promise to the man. Upon entering their house, the young Frannie had been sent to her mother's room with a hard swat and told to wait in the corner until she was ready to deal with her. Frannie never knew how long she had waited in the corner, crying and worrying herself sick over what was to come.
When her mother finally did come into the room after having put Quinn down for a nap, she called Frannie from the corner and had her stand between her knees as she made it clear in no uncertain terms that her behavior was reprehensible and not to be tolerated one moment more. She sent Frannie off to fetch the heirloom hairbrush that had been her grandmother's. Grandpa Francis—Frannie's namesake—had made the hairbrush by his own hand as an anniversary gift for Grandma Marie, and that brush had been used on both the heads and the bottoms of every Martin child and now…Frannie.
The paddling she had then received from that hairbrush was the worst she had ever had up until that point—but not the worst she would get that day. That day had marked her second time on the business end of Grandma's brush, wielded by her mother's expert hand—it made quite the impression. It also marked the first (but not the last) time her father had taken his belt to her. That had been truly awful. Just when Frannie had thought her punishment over, her mother setting the brush down after painting her daughter's cheeks a truly vibrant shade of ruby-red and pulling her up into her arms to hold as she cried…Judy had laid bare the crème de la crème of what was to be Frannie's fate. She had talked to her father, her mom had said, and they had decided together that the seriousness of Frannie's transgressions required an equally serious response.
After calming enough from her first spanking, Judy had brought Frannie comfortable pajamas to change into and then Frannie was left to lay in her parents' bed where she nursed her sore behind and awaited her father's homecoming. When she finally heard his car pull up, it felt like a lifetime had passed before his footsteps could be heard on the stairs. He entered the room, looking angry and stern; Frannie felt her heart flutter and jump into her throat. She eyed the belt at his waist nervously, as if it was going to suddenly spring to life and lash out at her of its own accord.
"Frances, I'm extremely disappointed in your actions. Stand up, please." Russell had wasted no time—he was a man of action, not words. Frannie sobbed as she stood before him, shaking like a leaf. She remembered letting out a gasp of surprise as her dad pulled her into his arms and hugged her. "I love you with my whole heart, Frannie. I will not let you get away with thinking it's okay to treat anyone the way you have this poor girl. That is why we are here and why you are about to feel the sting of my belt for the first—and for both our sakes, I hope the last—time. Is that understood?"
Frannie had sputtered out an incoherent "yes, sir", her tears coming fast and hard as her dad propped two pillows on the edge of the bed and then guided her to bend over them. Her butt had been raised high in the air, forced to stand nearly on tip-toes to balance herself. "Daddy, no! Please leave them up," she had begged when she felt him begin to lower her thin sleep pants. She remembered the feeling of her stomach dropping to her feet with dread at the very idea of him baring her completely—she was thirteen, after all—and then the immense relief she felt when he had left her panties up. Still, the embarrassment of having her pajama bottoms lowered, falling all the way to her ankles and leaving her childish rainbow briefs on full display…it was humbling, to say the least.
"I see you care when it's your own pants coming down…Perhaps you should have considered this when you humiliated that poor girl in your class today. She felt ten times worse than what you are feeling in this moment…though I suppose, not for long." Frannie had heard the unmistakable sound of the metallic clink as buckle was undone, followed by the swoosh of leather being pulled from her father's dress slacks. She heard her dad shuffling behind her, more clinking of metal; she startled at the tapping of the doubled-up leather against her panties as Russell lined up his stroke.
Time seemed to stand still as the belt left her bottom; she knew it was going to come back to literally bite her in the ass. She heard the swish of it flying through the air, then the crack as it landed. "OW!" she had cried, more from shock and fear than actual pain—at least at first. Her brain registered the sting, not horrible at first—she remembered thinking the burn from her mother's hairbrush was worse—and then it really sunk in. More licks landed, one after the other. Frannie still didn't know how many her father gave her that day, but at the time, it had felt endless. When it was finally over and Frannie was a sobbing, snotty mess, her dad picked her up from the bed and sat with her on his lap (being extra mindful of her well-punished ass), holding her as long as she wanted and needed. It had been over then, completely forgiven. Frannie had learned a valuable lesson that day—one that she realized Quinn was now in need of herself.
"Well—Fuck!" she groaned to the ceiling before finally sitting up. She wiped at her tears as she scanned the room. She had gotten her answer…even if she didn't like it. Her eyes fell on what she was looking for—it was exactly where it had always been. Standing, Frannie crossed the room to her mother's bureau and reached out with shaky fingers for the handle of the hairbrush she had become acquainted with all-too-well over the years. Being on the other side of it now, well…that was another matter entirely.
"I can't do this," Frannie insisted and started to set the brush back in its place. She had no idea how to even—do that. She wasn't a parent. She couldn't—
She focused her attention on the picture frame on the dresser. It was one of the family, taken four months before that fateful date night, enjoying a beautiful spring day at the park. Judy had packed a picnic and the four Fabrays had gathered close on their floral blanket while another park-goer snapped the photo of them. Judy and Russell were on the outside with twenty-four-year-old Frannie and twelve-year-old Quinn smiling between them. Frannie stared at her parents' faces, then the sweet, smiling face of her sister. She knew she had to step up. She may never be able to fill either of her parents' shoes perfectly, but she had to try. She owed it to them—and to Quinn. Quinn was still a kid, with all of her teenage years yet to grow and learn. Frannie couldn't let her grow up without the guidance she would have been given had their parents been alive—the guidance that Frannie was given and could provide for Quinn, if she was willing. And she was willing—of course she was.
Taking a steadying breath, Frannie tightened her hold on the handle of the heavy walnut brush. "I promise I won't let you down again," she whispered to the photograph. Whether she was talking more to her parents or to that twelve-year-old girl in that moment…she wasn't sure. And she didn't know that it mattered. All that did was how she moved forward.
Decision made, Frannie exited the master bedroom, shutting the door behind her. Now she had to consider her options. Spankings had always been administered in their parents' bedroom. Frannie didn't feel comfortable doing it in their room—like it was invading their privacy or something. She stepped across the hall to Quinn's room. It was the smallest bedroom with a twin-sized bed, the comforter the same pink unicorn and princess design that the girl had picked out for her sixth birthday. The walls were a pale pink, partially hidden now by trophy shelves and corkboards filled with photos of family and friends. Frannie immediately nixed the idea of spanking Quinn in here. It just didn't seem feasible, draping Quinn over her knee on the twin mattress, and besides, she didn't want her sister to associate her room with punishment.
She knew her own room was out of the question for much the same reason. While she had long ago upgraded to a queen-size bed, her room was otherwise exactly as it had been growing up. She still had posters plastered all over the room from her tween and teen years and didn't think taking Quinn in there to bust her ass was really appropriate when members of N'Sync were staring back at them from all four walls. No, the couch in the living room would have to do.
Turning to leave, Frannie caught sight of a bit of blue peeking out from beneath Quinn's pillow. She immediately went to retrieve it, knowing her sister would need the extra comfort for what was about to happen. With a deep sigh, Frannie made her way out of her sister's room and then took the stairs one at a time. She wanted to delay the next few moments as long as possible.
Quinn looked up in time to see her sister coming back down the stairs and felt her face drain of all color as she zeroed in on what Frannie was holding. She couldn't be serious—but one look at Frannie's face and Quinn knew that she was. She gulped and felt the tears that she had mostly gotten under control in the time she had spent waiting return full force. She hadn't ever experienced the other purpose of her mother's hairbrush—she had been too young when they died and hadn't yet graduated to that…milestone. And then with Frannie…she never thought she would.
The look of disbelief and betrayal that crossed her sister's face wasn't lost on Frannie. Part of her couldn't blame her either. Here she was, always having acted every bit the cool big sister, coming down with their mother's hairbrush. It was clear that Frannie was going to turn their relationship on its head and there was no going back from that. She realized that in this moment, Quinn was probably freaking out, thinking she had already lost her parents and now she was about to lose her sister too. This was a big step and she wanted to make sure she started it off on the right foot.
"Quinnie," she breathed, feeling herself settle as she moved closer to her sister. "We need to talk." She placed the brush on the coffee table in front of them and eased onto the sofa besides the crying teen. Before she could remove the small blanket she had draped over her shoulder—Quinn's Blank, as she had always called it—the teen was practically on top of her.
"I—I'm s-s-sorry!" Quinn cried, flinging herself into Frannie's arms the moment the older girl sat down. She buried her head in her sister's chest, feeling lost, sad, and scared. Nothing was happening the way she expected it to and everything she thought she knew was being turned on its side.
"I know you are, Quinnie. I know," Frannie comforted, shifting her sister up and onto her lap. She pulled Blank free and handed it over to the distraught girl. She didn't miss the mixture of surprise and awe that crossed Quinn's face, or how her cheeks colored in embarrassment before she snuggled her face into the soft material.
Quinn breathed deep, inhaling the familiar scent of her baby blanket. She was far too old to still even have it, let alone find comfort in it or sleep with it, but she couldn't bring herself to give it up either. She was surprised and more than a little embarrassed that not only had Frannie thought to look for it and found it—when she was always so careful to hide it—but then to decide it was something that Quinn would want or even need…It was a lot to process!
Frannie was doing a lot of surprising today, Quinn realized. First, she had been so stern and sure of herself when she had sent Quinn to her bedroom after catching her spying on Rachel out the window. Then, it was the way Fran had called her baby and the look of concern on her face when Quinn cried out her confession. Now, it was the hairbrush and blanket. Suddenly, Frannie wasn't acting so much her cool, big sister as she was…parent. And that was too much for Quinn to wrap her brain around, so she buried her face in her blanket and her head in the crook of Frannie's neck and just cried.
Frannie hugged Quinn close and rocked her, hoping it would calm her enough so they could talk. As the minutes ticked by and Quinn wasn't growing any calmer, the older sister realized she was going to have to take the lead and move this along. "Alright," she said, her voice cracking. She cleared it and tried again. "That's enough crying now, Q." She eased the teen off of her lap and onto the sofa, angling their bodies to face one another. "It's time to talk."
Quinn choked back another wave of sobs and scrubbed at her face with the back of her hand as she tried to do what her sister said. "I—I don't k-know what to s-s-say. I was wrong and I'm sor—sorry!"
Frannie sighed and reached over to grasp Quinn's hand—the one she hadn't just wiped her snot all over—and squeezed. "Yes, you are wrong," she said, her tone firm. It was a surprise, even to herself. She watched Quinn wince and duck her head in shame. Frannie continued, "I know you're sorry—I can see you are. I'm not the one you need to be apologizing to. Rachel is—"
"I—I tried," Quinn all but whispered, fat tears spilling from hazel eyes.
"Well, you can do it again just as soon as you and me are…done here. I'm going to take you next door so you can explain everything to Shelby and apologize again to Rachel."
Frannie's words hit Quinn like a freight train, knocking the wind out of her. What—What was her sister saying? She…She was going to—with the brush—and then, immediately over to Shelby and Rachel's?
"NO!" Quinn gasped, heart pounding.
"What did you think was going to happen, Quinn?" Frannie demanded in disbelief. She felt her anger surging and that's not how she wanted to handle this. Taking a breath, she let it out in a long sigh. "Look," she said, calmer, "I know I haven't—done this—before. This isn't what either of us are used to…I'm not supposed to be your parent but I—well, I am now, Q. I don't want to replace Mom and Dad—I never could. But I'm—I'm your guardian, your…It's time I actually stepped into that—that role."
"I never…I-I'm sorry I m-made you—that you think you have to be…I'm s-sorry, Frannie!"
"Oh, baby," Frannie breathed, her free hand lifting her sister's chin so she could have eye contact. "I love you, Quinnie. I love you. You never have to be sorry for—I haven't been made to do anything, I…The only regret I have about becoming your guardian is that I—that I didn't make the distinction right away. I will always be your big sister, but I have to be your parent now too."
"Well, that doesn't mean you have to span—do that—to m-me!" Quinn cried. She was overwhelmed by a dozen emotions. She was sorry, feeling incredibly guilty—there was a large part of her that knew she deserved exactly what Frannie was planning—but that didn't mean she wanted any of it to happen!
Frannie laughed and, all at once, the tension and anger and every other doubt she had in her mind vanished—they were simply gone. She knew she and Quinn could do this and get through it. "It absolutely does," she persisted. "It's exactly what Mom and Dad would have done if they were here and you know it."
"But—"
"Look, you don't know this story and I'm not proud of what I did back then, but I was thirteen when I was caught bullying another girl. Her name was Nikki; me and Kimmy and another friend didn't like her, we picked on her. Things got worse from there and one day, I pantsed her. In front of a ton of kids—"
Frannie continued with her story, watching as Quinn got quiet and went wide-eyed at the details of what transpired. She gasped when Frannie told her of her own punishments, her eyes flicking nervously from her sister to the brush on the table and back again. "I never did anything like it ever again and I hope to have that same effect on you today," she finished.
Quinn processed her sister's words. She was crying again—small wonder. Suddenly, the painful spanking her sister had all but promised her before marching her next door didn't seem so bad. Not compared to the awful paddling and then belting her sister had gotten—and what Quinn knew would have been her fate if her parents were alive to see her now. "O-Okay," she cried in acceptance.
"W-What?" Frannie asked, taken aback.
"Frannie! Before I lo-lose my nerve!" Quinn whined pitifully.
"Jeez, okay," the older sister grumbled. She wasn't expecting Quinn to give in so easily. But, looking at her face, she knew the girl was spent. The turmoil of all of the emotions and guilt wracking her small body right now was too much to bear. It must have been almost a relief to let go and accept her fate. "Stand up then."
Quinn did on shaky legs, her blanket held between her hands in a death grip. Her heart thumped hard against her ribcage and her stomach fluttered painfully. The guilt was tearing her to pieces by now. She just wanted relief and for all of this to be over. She didn't fight it when her sister's hands went to undo the button and zip of her shorts, nor when Frannie pulled them and her panties to her knees in one fell swoop. Before she could even register embarrassment at standing half-naked in front of her sister, she was falling across toned thighs. She landed swiftly, solidly, a whoosh of air escaping her lungs from the suddenness of it. Frannie's arm encircled her waist, drawing her further up and over her lap and the sofa cushions and closer to her body. Her legs hung haphazardly off the edge on the other side, her toes curling against the carpeted floor. She quickly balled her blanket into a little nest and immediately buried her face within it.
Frannie's heart was racing just as much in this moment as she secured her hold on the teenager now draped across her lap. She surveyed the lithe form sprawled before her and realized just how small and young Quinn really was. The pale, bared butt in front of her was so much tinier than what she had expected it to be, and suddenly she was filled with all of those doubts again. She couldn't do this. What if she hurt Quinn? What if Quinn hated her?
"Frannie…please," she heard Quinn's muffled pleading.
The older sister frowned and untangled the hand she was using to hold Quinn in place to reach up and brush some of the hair back from Quinn's temples as the girl turned her head. "I-I'm sorry," the girl rasped, her voice hoarse from all the crying. "Please don't drag this out."
That little voice, the pain and guilt bursting forth with every syllable—it was enough to dispel her insecurities even as it broke her heart. Not wasting any more time on thought, Frannie once more secured her sister against her. Her right hand hovered over that tiny bottom, sizing it up as she lined up her target. Deep breath in, hold, hand raised and then—SLAP!
Both sisters gasped. That was a moment, the start—things were never going to be the same between them again. The older sister recovered much quicker than the younger and found a steady rhythm, dusting pale skin a delicate pink in no time.
Quinn whimpered and groaned as her sister heated her bottom. At first, it wasn't so much painful as it was embarrassing and overwhelming—the very idea that Frannie felt the need to do this at all…though Quinn deserved it and knew it. As it continued and Frannie gained confidence, Quinn forgot all about her embarrassment. She was still overwhelmed—from guilt, from being over her sister's knees, from thinking about what Rachel must have faced earlier with Shelby—and now the growing sting on top of everything else. It was too much.
"Ouch! Fran—AH! Ouch—S-Sorry! I'm sorry!" Quinn cried, struggling against her sister's hold. She desperately wanted up and off of her lap.
Frannie stopped and rested her hand against warm skin. She was breathing heavy from the exertion of keeping Quinn across her lap as she slapped her hand down again and again on her small, squirming target. "I need you to hand me the hairbrush now, Quinn," she said after a moment.
"N-No!" her sister cried, wiggling harder. Frannie took several deep breaths in. If this were her mother, Judy would have said something like, 'That's fine, sweetheart. I will just continue spanking with my hand until you are ready to give me the hairbrush.' Frannie always hated that—the spanking always hurt enough by then and the thought of feeling the hairbrush on top of it…Her mother was always true to her word too. Frannie had gotten several longer spankings than originally planned because she couldn't bring herself to hand over that damn brush! She couldn't do that to her sister.
Adjusting Quinn slightly to make sure she was secure, Frannie leaned forward and grabbed the implement herself. "No, no, no!" Quinn yelped, her fight to flee increasing.
"Yes, Quinn," was all Frannie said as she placed the smooth back of the hairbrush against her sister's bottom. She tapped it several times, getting a feel for it, lining it up. Quinn clenched her butt in anticipation of the impact.
"I love you with my whole heart, Quinnie," Frannie began, hearing her parents' voices echoing in her mind. "I love you too much to let you down again. You are better than how you've acted this past year in school. You are a good girl. You're kind and funny and smart—you're a good person. You are too good to cause others pain—especially the kind of pain you've caused Rachel. And I won't let you get away with thinking it's okay to treat anyone the way you have Rachel and whoever else you may have bullied, too. It ends now, Quinn Margaret. It's those reasons we're here and why you're about to feel Mommy's hairbrush on your butt for the first time. It hurts. It hurts, Quinn, and I hope this gets through to you. I don't want to have to do this again, but I will. I will—I promise you that. Do you understand me?"
"Y-Y-Yes! Yes, Fran! P-Please, I—I'm sorry!"
Frannie heard her father's voice then, pictured him in her mind's eye. 'Not as sorry as you're about to be,' he had said as he stood before a then sixteen-year-old Frannie, doubled-up belt in hand. That had been the second (and last) time she had felt her father's belt, memorable in part because she had felt the sting of leather against her panty-clad bottom and only that—there had been no precursor spanking from her mother, not even a warm-up. Just cold leather against a cold ass (that didn't stay that way for long). At the time, she had felt sure her ass would catch fire from how hot her skin had become—and the burn lingered for three or four days! It had been a hard lesson to learn—and to teach, as her father had later told her—but necessary. She had gotten it for speeding on the highway late at night, unknowingly racing a state trooper; the officer brought her home instead of arresting her for reckless driving and child endangerment (she had had Kimmy and Kimmy's thirteen-year-old brother Carl in the car with her). She still wouldn't speed to this day, not more than five miles over the limit at any rate.
"I'm sure you are—" Frannie said instead, "—but your actions have consequences." She cringed. That was a line straight from her mother's mouth.
"S-Sissy, don't!"
Frannie paused at that. That was a name she hadn't heard Quinn use since she was a preschooler. "I hate this as much as you do, Quinnie. It's happening though. Don't reach back," she warned before raising the brush. She let it hang for half a second before bringing it down hard on the center of the small bottom.
"Ohh, ouch, ouch, ouch!" Quinn yelled, arching her back and twisting back and forth. Her sister was right! That fucking hurt! The next swat landed and Quinn couldn't help herself—she threw her hand behind, palm up, trying to shield as much of her burning bottom as she could.
Frannie shooed the hand away and landed three more hard swats before it was back again. "Move your hand, Quinn Margaret," she ordered.
"Sissy! It—It hurts!" the teenager cried.
"It's meant to—it's a spanking. Move your hand." She waited a few seconds more and when it was clear Quinn wasn't going to move her hand, Frannie lined up her next swat for her sister's left thigh. She watched the once-untouched skin turn a blushing pink instantly.
"Oh, ouch! F-Fuck!" Quinn exclaimed, yanking her hand back. "Th—That's mean!"
"Do not reach back. I don't want to hurt you," Frannie said, laying the next round in quick succession. Rosy oval splotches were quickly blooming across both cheeks.
"Y-Y-You just d-did!" Quinn argued through her sobs.
"I don't want to hurt your hand. Your butt can handle the brush. Your hand and fingers can't," Frannie answered simply.
"Ouch, Frannie—Please!" Quinn was overwhelmed by pain. This hurt so much—and her sister didn't seem ready to stop any time soon. She was shocked at Frannie's strength—at both the ease with which she held her pinned across her lap, unable to go anywhere, and the punishing hand she so effortlessly (and unexpectedly!) wielded.
It was all becoming too much for the young teenager. Her thoughts were racing, her fight or flight response was in full gear, her ass was on fire. She wanted it to be over already. She didn't care how. Shelby could hate her forever, as long as it meant that damn brush would stop smacking her sore butt! She was going to burn that brush as soon as she got the chance!
Without conscious thought, Quinn flung her hand behind her once more—and this time, the heavy wooden brush clipped the tips of her fingers. "AHHH!" she yelped, pulling her hand back immediately and stuffing it under her chest—both to ease the throbbing and keep herself from doing that again.
Frannie saw her sister's hand a moment too late. She hadn't been able to pull the swat in time and the brush collided, catching Quinn's fingers along with her bottom. Frannie winced at the pained cry and stopped. "Give me your hand, Quinn," she said.
Quinn cried harder at her sister's words. She was immediately an eight-year-old again, over her mother's lap receiving (what she thought at the time) the worst spanking she had ever had and would ever have—oh how wrong she was! Quinn remembered throwing her hands back repeatedly, despite all of her mom's warnings. The last time, her mother stopped mid-spank, and ordered in a firm voice, 'Give me your hand, Quinn.' Quinn didn't dare disobey and the moment she offered her hand, her mother had taken it in her own and delivered a sharp smack on her palm. Two more followed and Quinn was then allowed to pull her stinging hand back where she kept it safely out of reach. That hurt more than the spanking ever did—certainly her feelings.
Quinn shook her head frantically, tears flying as she did. "N-NO! Please don't h-hit my hand!" she begged.
Frannie's heart ached at the broken cries coming from her little sister. She knew instantly what her sister thought was about to happen and why. She herself had experienced her mother's unique way to ensure unwanted hands didn't interfere with a well-deserved spanking. "I'm not, sweetheart. I just don't want to risk that happening again. I'm going to hold your hand out of the way, that's all," she promised.
Quinn reluctantly offered her hand back, then noticeably relaxed when her sister did exactly as she said. She felt a gentle squeeze, taking it to mean Frannie understood and was offering a bit of comfort even in the midst of this punishment.
"We're almost done and then it's all forgiven—at least on my end. I'm still taking you next door so you can explain yourself to Shelby and apologize to both her and Rachel," Frannie said, tapping the brush against glowing skin.
The rest of the spanking was a blur of pain and tears, broken apologizes and promises to be good forever—just please stop now! It didn't until Quinn was worn out from her fight, sobbing, and finally just gave in to it all. Whether the spanking stopped immediately after her moment of surrender or went on for a time, Quinn couldn't say. She never realized when the last swat actually fell. She just cried, exhausted, her body limp across Frannie's knees.
She didn't try to get up right away, just lay there sobbing as the last of her guilt gave way to relief—relief that it was over, that she had more than paid for her actions, and that she was now forgiven…at least in her sister's eyes. She didn't care that she was still ass-up over her sister's lap, that her burning, bright red butt was on full display, or that she had long ago kicked off her panties and shorts in her desperate need to escape.
Frannie had tossed the brush aside after the last swat had fallen and now she sat slumped against the back of the couch, staring down at the state of Quinn's bottom. It was a deep red and radiating heat. She knew it hurt something terrible—and she felt terrible for dishing it out. Still, she knew her sister had deserved that and then some…their parents would have certainly given her more for this infraction, but Frannie didn't have it in her. It was enough that she had spanked the girl to begin with—and she had made sure Quinn would feel it every time she sat down for at least a full day, if not longer. The burn of the brush went deep—Frannie would know.
Her right hand lowered and hovered uncertainly over her sister's bottom. Quinn must have sensed it because her bottom clenched and the girl squirmed nervously. Frannie rested her hand atop the hot skin for all of a second before she began to rub gently. "Please don't cry any more, Quinnie," she pleaded. She wasn't sure how much more her heart could take.
"It—It hurts!" Quinn wept.
Frannie knew how she had responded to that exact phrase only moments before, but now the time for firmness was well past. "I know," she soothed with both voice and hand. "I know it hurts, baby. It's—It's going to hurt for a while…that's the point. But it won't be as intense, soon. I promise."
Quinn continued to lay where she was, letting her sister's words and hand calm her. Her brain picked over everything that had happened in the last few minutes and one thing kept jumping out at her. "Why…Why are you calling me that?" she asked with a hitched breath once her tears subsided to only occasional hiccups.
"Calling you…what?" Frannie asked, confused.
"B—Baby," Quinn stammered. "Only Mommy ever…ever called me that."
Frannie felt her heart sink and guilt bubble up. It never even occurred to her that 'baby' might upset Quinn—their mother had always called Frannie 'lovebug' (or 'bug', for short). So when 'baby' slipped from her lips before, she hadn't questioned it. It had just felt—right. Clearly it hadn't been…
Easing her hands under Quinn's armpits, Frannie easily shifted the girl from laying facedown over her lap to sitting atop it. She brushed the remaining tears away with the pads of her fingers as she stared into hazel eyes, so like her own. "Oh, Quinn," she breathed. "I—I'm sorry. I didn't think…I didn't know. I won't call you that again—"
"N-No. I…I liked it," Quinn confessed, blushing furiously.
Frannie's entire body relaxed at her sister's words. "Okay," she whispered, a hand reaching up to cradle Quinn's head as she coaxed her to rest against her shoulder. A kiss was given to a sweaty temple and then she began to hum.
As much as she wanted to remain in this quiet moment and just sit and cuddle Quinn forever…she knew they couldn't. There was still one matter that needed to be addressed and the sooner they did that, the better. There would be all the time in the world for comfort and cuddles afterward. With a sigh, Frannie shifted and set Quinn on her feet, ignoring the hurt and confusion written all over her sister's face at her actions. As Frannie stood, she immediately spotted her sister's discarded clothing and moved to retrieve them. Quinn's expression was full of betrayal and she stepped back.
"C'mon, Quinnie. I told you we were going next door as soon as we were finished…this part," Frannie reminded her. "Let's go and get it over with and then everything is done."
Frannie held out her sister's panties—patterned with colorful-sweater-wearing-dachshunds—for her to step into and Quinn did so, however reluctantly. The teen gasped as the thin cotton raked across tender skin and glared back at Frannie. The older sister simply offered the girl's shorts to step into next, shaking them with a meaningful stare of her own. Quinn huffed and stomped her foot once, then eased into the shorts.
"I can do it," she said, grabbing for the waistband of the coral-colored chinos before her sister could hike them up and further aggravate her smarting seat.
Frannie held her hands up in surrender as she took a step back, smirking the entire time. She was glad to see Quinn's sass hadn't been affected by the ass warming she had gotten. That was a good sign.
After Quinn had finished righting her shorts, she couldn't help but twist her hips and crane her neck, trying to get a good look at her butt and, more importantly, the backs of her thighs to see if there was any evidence of how she had been punished. Ruefully, she wondered if her skin would match the shocking color of her shorts.
Frannie couldn't help but laugh at the teen's antics. "I promise you're fine—you can't see anything," she assured. She didn't miss the angry-glare-turned-relief that flitted across her sister's features. "C'mon, brat. You've got some 'splaining to do." Quinn groaned but otherwise didn't fight Frannie as she marched her towards the yellow house next door.
Open Arms * Open Arms * Open Arms
Two things were immediately apparent to Rachel as she regained consciousness: she was beyond hungry and her butt was on—flipping—fire. "Owwww," she groaned, easing her left hand behind to assess the damage. Yup, her ass was hot and definitely sore. Not the dull, slightly stingy, sunburned feeling like the last time. This was a relentless ache that ran deep—like having sat on a hard concrete bench for hours without moving, multiplied by about ten (thousand).
Wiggling herself over to the edge of the bed, Rachel carefully stood. Even the smallest movements hurt. She spotted her panties folded on top of her mother's nightstand and felt her face flush. She hadn't even thought about the fact that she was still bare from the waist down. With a reluctant sigh, she grabbed up the purple undergarment and began to step into them. "Ow, ow, owhowoww!" she hissed as she very clumsily pulled them up and into place. It was hard enough getting them on with her broken arm normally—having to do it with a freshly-spanked bottom was a new level of hell. With one last feeble rub, Rachel made her way out of her mother's bedroom and down the stairs in search of her mom—and food.
Shelby was busy folding a basket of laundry on the sofa while an early episode of Friends played in the background. She looked up when she heard feet plodding down the stairs and smiled at the just-woke-up face of her fourteen-year-old. "Hey, baby," she greeted, eyes flicking to the DVR clock. 4:12. "I had been expecting you to sleep longer. You okay?"
"How long was I asleep for?" Rachel asked as she moved into the living room. She eyed the sofa with a sigh. Her mom had clothes folded in piles on the chaise and neighboring cushion, and she had really wanted to sit next to the woman. Well, lay next to her. There would be no sitting in her near (and maybe not-so-near) future.
"About twenty minutes," Shelby answered, immediately moving clothes around to make room beside her. Her child's doleful little face gave way to a look of pure adoration at the simple gesture and Shelby opened her arms in invitation. Rachel instantly obliged, curling up with all her weight on her side for obvious reasons. The mother smiled and trailed her hand down, noting the warmth still radiating from punished skin, and rubbed gently.
Rachel hummed and relaxed further into her mother's side, enjoying the quiet moment. As much as she hurt, it was nice to have things return to normal between them. It wasn't lost on her that this was also different from the last time she had been spanked. Last time, she had woken and been nervous about how her mom would react and respond to her, and whether or not she would still be angry. Rachel wasn't worried about any of that this time. She knew she was forgiven, knew things would go on as usual. The only thing that remained from before was her sore butt…and that seemed a small price to pay. Okay…maybe not that small. But worth it—definitely worth it.
A rumble from her stomach interrupted the peaceful moment and Rachel sat up with a sheepish look as Shelby chuckled lightly. "Guess that's my cue to feed you," her mom smirked. "How 'bout we order in? I don't feel like cooking—and I sent the burgers and salads home with your grandparents."
"Chinese?" Rachel asked hopefully. She smiled when Shelby nodded.
"Go get the menu for me," the mother requested. She watched her child stand and happily flit off to the kitchen, letting out a long sigh. She was going to pop that bubble in a moment and wasn't looking forward to it. Motherhood was hard.
After Rachel returned and they decided on their choices, Shelby called to place the order. "We're a bit behind on orders—it's gonna be about 70 minutes before it can get to you. Is that okay?" the woman on the other line said. Shelby's eyes flicked to the clock—that would put it around 5:40. "That's fine," she spoke into her phone. She read off her debit card information and then hung up, returning her attention to her smiling, hovering child. "Food'll be here around 5:40," she told the girl.
Rachel's smile faltered and her shoulders slumped at the news. "But I'm hungry now," she whined.
Shelby felt herself beginning to melt at the adorable pout forming on Rachel's lips. Don't be lured by it, she reminded herself. "We can find something to tide you over," she said, knowing the girl was indeed hungry. She hadn't eaten lunch, and the ice cream from her and Jack's little detour was long gone. "Just so you're aware, Rach, I haven't forgotten about the mouth soaping I promised you," she added as her child began bouncing off into the kitchen.
Rachel stopped in her tracks and turned incredulous eyes on her mother. "N-Now?"
Shelby softened at the look. "No, not now. After dinner," she assured. Then, more stern, "And then we are going to go next door and you, young lady, are going to apologize to Quinn for the way you've been treating her and how you spoke to her today. The lingering taste of soap will remind you to keep your words polite."
Rachel opened her mouth to argue but stopped herself. The burning ache from her bottom pulsed in warning and she heeded the painful reminder. What good would arguing do, except to get her into more trouble? It was over, her secret was kept—that was the most important part. She could deal with a few uncomfortable minutes having to apologize to Quinn, couldn't she? It was a good acting exercise, if nothing else, and even had the potential to be a fantastic part of her memoir one day. When she was an accomplished actress and Broadway star, it wouldn't matter that as a teen she had been a loser. Her story would be one of perseverance and overcoming adversity and she'd be regarded as a role model for everyone who had ever felt like an outsider. So, with all of that in mind, Rachel acquiesced with a small sigh. "Yes, ma'am," she answered dejectedly. Well—she didn't have to be happy about it, did she?
Shelby watched the warring emotions playing across her teenager's face and was pleasantly surprised when caution and reason won out. Neither of those things seemed to come naturally to her child, who was prone to impulsive and emotional responses. She had no delusions that this side of her daughter would last—probably only as long as her sore bottom did. But it was enough, for now. Standing, Shelby made her way to her child, stopping to reach out and cup Rachel's cheek. "Thank you for being so mature about this. I'm proud of you, baby," she praised.
Rachel smiled in spite of herself and relaxed into her mother's touch. She closed her eyes as Shelby leaned forward to place a kiss to her forehead. "Let's go find that snack, Rach," her mom said before moving towards the kitchen, Rachel following a step behind.
"Mom?"
"Hmm?" Shelby hummed, already at the open refrigerator in search of a suitable snack for her child. She pulled out two containers and a bottle of Hidden Valley Ranch, then turned to place all of it on the island behind her. Grabbing a small plate out of the dishwasher, she neatly arranged baby carrots and cucumber slices along the perimeter. Ranch went in the center and she slid the plate across the island toward the teenager. A glass of ice water joined the plate and she looked at her child expectantly. "What is it, honey?"
Rachel reached for a carrot and then nibbled at the end of it for something to do as she considered her words. She thought about chickening out and not saying anything, but it nagged at her. Plus, it would be better for her in the long run if she got this out now. Swallowing her bite, brown eyes met hazel and she went for it.
"In regards to Quinn, Mom, going forward, I'd…appreciate it…if I wasn't forced to be around her. I'm never going to like her and I just…I don't want to keep getting in trouble over her."
It was Shelby's turn to open her mouth and then pause to reconsider. Rachel had just very calmly—very…maturely (if somewhat formally)—asked for what she wanted, perhaps even needed. That's all that Shelby had been asking of her for weeks now, wasn't it? For Rachel to talk to her about what was going on instead of just reacting?
"Okay. I hear you, baby. All I ask is that you are polite to her when you are around her," Shelby countered. She caught the spark of outrage ignite within Rachel's eyes and was quick to douse it. "She's our neighbor and goes to the same school as you—you're going to see or be around her sometimes. I expect you to treat her with respect and common courtesy, if nothing else. Understand?"
Rachel sighed but didn't fight it. "Yes, ma'am," she repeated just as wearily as she had before.
"Good girl," Shelby breathed out a sigh of relief, then grabbed a cucumber from Rachel's plate.
"Hey, that's mine!" Rachel whined. "There's literally more right there in front of you. Take from that."
Shelby smirked as she popped the slice in her mouth and gathered up the items to put back in the fridge. "Eh, it's more fun this way," she teased. "C'mon, it's a Friends marathon on TBS. Let's go!" She grabbed up Rachel's plate and drink and went on her way; Rachel had no choice but to hurry after, yelling not to eat any more of her food as she went.
The pair settled onto the sofa, Rachel with her snack and Shelby with the remaining laundry, chatting and laughing as if the afternoon's events never happened. The doorbell rang and both brunettes jumped at the noise. "That was fast!" Shelby commented as she looked at the clock; she hadn't expected their food to come for another thirty-five minutes yet.
As Shelby got up to answer the door, Rachel wiggled and shifted on the sofa, her good hand reaching behind to rub at the soreness still very-much present. She didn't remember last time hurting nearly this much and wondered how much longer she'd have to suffer with this relentless ache. She sighed and let her hand fall to her side; it wasn't helping anyway.
Shelby opened the door with a smile ready and instead let out a gasp of surprise when it wasn't the delivery driver as she had expected but the two blonde sisters from next door. Blinking rapidly, she surveyed the two young women before her. Quinn was in front, her eyes red and puffy and Shelby didn't miss the glistening tear tracks on her cheeks. Frannie had a firm grip on her sister's shoulder and looked determined, yet nervous.
Quinn's heart was determined to beat right out of her chest as the door swung open and Shelby's surprised face met them. The blonde felt her eyes sting with more tears and she bit her lip uncertainly. She felt Frannie's hand squeeze her shoulder, in support or in warning, she wasn't sure.
Frannie couldn't shake the feeling of waiting outside the principal's office as she stood behind Quinn and reached to ring the doorbell. Her stomach fluttered uneasily—she wasn't even the one in trouble, but still felt partially to blame. She took a deep, steadying breath just before the door opened. Now, Shelby stood motionless, staring at the pair of them.
Shelby shook off her surprise and greeted the sisters. "Sorry, I was expecting you to be our delivery," Shelby offered as explanation.
"Oh. Sorry. And sorry for just showing up, I should have texted first," Frannie returned her own apology. "But Quinn has something she needs to say to Rachel…and you. If—If that's okay?"
Shelby's eyes travelled over the blonde teenager once more, wondering what the girl could have to say to her. She noticed the uptick in tears and frowned. "No, that's okay," Shelby sighed. "Rachel has something she needs to say to Quinn as well. Just, ah—one sec."
Shelby shut the door, noting the confused expressions on the sisters' faces, and backed up three paces to where she could make eye contact with her child. "Grab a pair of shorts from the hamper and put them on, please," she told the girl.
"Wha—Why?" Rachel asked. "Where's the food?"
"It's not the food. Frannie and Quinn are here and want to talk to us," Shelby explained. "You are to be on your best behavior and be polite."
Rachel's stomach fell at that announcement as her brain worked overtime. What would Frannie and Quinn need to talk to them about if not—
"No!" Rachel gasped.
Shelby had been about to turn back to the door when she heard her child tell her no. Storming into the living room, the mother stalked over to the sofa. Without a word she hauled the girl up, ignoring the yelp and the way she tried to cover her bottom. Reaching over to snatch the first pair of shorts she saw up, she held them out for her daughter. "Do not argue with me, Rachel Barbra. You owe that girl an apology. Remember what we talked about," she scolded as Rachel reluctantly stepped into the clothing. Pulling them up to the tiny waist, Shelby's left hand snaked back to deliver a firm warning.
Rachel winced and immediately moved away from her mother (and her hand), hanging her head at the stern glare directed at her. She heard her mom's footsteps leaving, then the door opening, Frannie's voice, and more footsteps. Her heart raced as she glanced up. She met Quinn's eyes in that moment, noting the tears and red face. The blonde's guilt was evident, something that Rachel had never seen on her face. Outrage overwhelmed her. This was not happening!
"Have a seat. Can I get you anything to drink?" Shelby offered as she led the sisters into the living room. She cast a quick warning look towards her child; the girl completely missed it, too busy directing her own glare at Quinn.
"No, we're fine, thank you," Frannie said, moving toward the opposite end of the sofa to where Rachel was standing. She dragged Quinn along with her, pulling the girl down beside her and ignoring the sharp intake of breath at the action.
Shelby went to sit as well, maneuvering her child down next to her. Rachel gasped and squirmed before she could stop herself, feeling her cheeks burn. Her eyes flicked to the two blondes. Frannie was giving her an unreadable look and Quinn, well—Quinn looked just as uncomfortable as Rachel.
"So, I had planned to bring Rachel over after dinner, but this is as good a time as any," Shelby began.
"Sorry again for showing up like this, but I didn't think it should wait," Frannie said at the same time.
Both women stopped for the other to begin, only to talk over each other again. They laughed nervously. Rachel shot to her feet. This was her moment, in all of the confusion, to stop everything before it began. She did not go through everything she did—all the trouble, tears, The Spanking—for Quinn to come over here and ruin everything with her newfound guilty conscience. Not happening!
"Rachel!" Shelby hissed and grabbed for the girl's t-shirt, assuming her child was making a break for it. When Rachel didn't move except to glance back at her, she frowned in confusion.
Rachel met her mother's eye over her shoulder and then took a deep breath. You can do this. Acting exercise. Think of the memoir, Rachel repeated to herself. "Quinn, I owe you an apolo—"
"Wait, Rach. Stop. You need to let Quinn speak first," Frannie was quick to interrupt the smaller teen. She wasn't about to let the girl offer an apology for something Frannie felt was well within her right to do after everything that Quinn had put her through. "Shelby, I get the feeling you don't know and I am so sorry." She felt the need to warn the woman, so she knew something was coming—because how do you actually prepare a person for the magnitude of what was about to be revealed? She then nudged Quinn and nodded towards Rachel.
Quinn squirmed with apprehension, wincing as she hit a particularly sore spot. She opened her mouth to tell her truth when Rachel burst forth, "Quinn, DON'T!" Quinn jumped in alarm and gasped in both surprise and pain.
"Rachel!" Shelby scolded as she sprang to her feet, her hand moving to grasp Rachel's arm firmly. She fully intended to remind her about their previous talk when her child's words registered. She frowned and said, "Wait. Don't what? What's going on?"
"Why didn't you tell her?" Quinn found herself asking Rachel.
"She doesn't need to know!" Rachel hissed back, feeling her world spinning. "Both of you, just—just go!"
"Rachel, we can't," Frannie intervened, her tone soft, soothing. "Your mom's got to know. She should know. You shouldn't have to hide—"
"WHAT DO I NOT KNOW?!" Shelby released her hold on Rachel to round on the two blondes. She didn't like being the only one clearly in the dark about whatever the HELL was going on!
"I—I'm Rachel's bully!" Quinn revealed, and just like that, she was spilling all of her secrets, everything she had ever done or said to Rachel.
Shelby felt the walls closing in on her, her ears ringing and black spots appearing in her peripheral. She wanted to vomit. She wanted to cry. She wanted to walk over and slap Quinn—that little bitch! All of the things she was confessing to, the things she had done to Rachel—her baby. She turned hurt, questioning eyes towards her child and was surprised when she wasn't standing directly behind her like she had been just a moment ago. Her eyes continued down and stomach clenched at the sight. Rachel was sitting in a small ball on the sofa, feet tucked up to her chest, her arms resting on her knees and head hidden within them. Shelby could hear her muffled crying.
"I'm so, so sorry Rachel. I'm s-sorry to you, too, Shelby. I—I know I can't undo what I've d-done, but I hope…I hope this he-helps," Quinn finished lamely. Tears were streaming down her face and she felt awful. Rachel crying, scrunched up on the sofa was heartbreaking to watch. And Shelby looked…lost. Angry. Quinn did that to both of them. She looked uncertainly toward her sister. Frannie gave her a sad little smile and placed a hand on her shoulder in support.
Shelby hadn't looked away from her daughter. The hurt and sadness—the overwhelming despair—was coming off the girl in waves and echoed in Shelby's soul. Pain stabbed her with every beat of her heart, in every breath taken into her lungs. Why hadn't Rachel told her? Why would she hide something of this magnitude? Why?!
Frannie watched the emotions play across Shelby's face. She knew the woman was blindsided by this news. She was angry, hurt, confused…devastated. And poor Rachel…It was clear to the older sister that Rachel had been keeping it all a secret; clear that Shelby had punished her—spanked her by the way she had winced and sat gingerly on the sofa, now too consumed by her grief to pay any attention to her sore bottom. This whole thing was so fucked up—and even though she knew she had done the right thing in bringing Quinn over to confess, the end result was hard to face.
Knowing Shelby wasn't in a position to make the next move, Frannie spoke. Her voice wavered with guilt over the part she played in all of this, and—selfishly—from the loss of a friendship that had only just started to take shape. "I want to apologize to you both, as well," she said. "I had no idea that Quinn was doing any of this and I should—should have. I'm responsible for her and I should have known what she was up to. I'm sorry I didn't, Rachel. If I had known, I would have stopped it sooner."
Rachel heard Frannie's words, heard the raw pain behind them. She lifted her head enough that her eyes peeked over crossed arms and met the older blonde's gaze. She liked Frannie and felt a rush of gratitude for her. She wished she could have met and known her under different circumstances. It hurt Rachel to see Frannie hurting, but she appreciated her words and knew they were sincere. She offered a small smile to the older Fabray before ducking her head back down.
"I'm sorry, Shelby," Frannie directed her words to the older brunette now. "I'm sorry for all the pain Quinn has caused Rachel—and now you. I can promise you something like this will never happen again. Quinn was punished just before we came over here and knows that if she even thinks of doing something like this again to Rachel—or anyone else—I'll come down twice as hard on her next time. Don't you, Quinn?"
Quinn let out a low groan as she shifted in her seat. She knew her face burned just as fiercely and brightly as her bottom did in this moment, and one quick glance towards Shelby made it clear the woman knew exactly what punishment Quinn had received. Quinn shrunk down in shame, wishing for nothing more than the earth to open up and swallow her whole.
Rachel's head shot up without conscious thought, her arms falling to her sides, as she stared incredulously at Frannie and then Quinn. And suddenly, everything clicked for her—the expression on Quinn's face as she squirmed before, the reason she looked just as uncomfortable as Rachel. "You spanked her?!" she blurted before she could stop herself.
"Rachel—"
"I did, yes. I paddled her with our mother's hairbrush," Frannie stated.
"Frannie," Quinn whined, her ears burning now too.
Frannie turned to her sister and leveled her with a look. "You more than deserved what you got, Quinn Margaret—and frankly, Rachel deserves to know you were punished. If anything, this should serve as a stronger reminder to be kind to everyone."
Quinn hung her head, beyond embarrassed to have her business aired so publicly. Well, you know Rachel was spanked too, and she didn't deserve that, Quinn's inner voice reminded her.
Frannie knew she should feel bad for what she had just done, but she really didn't. She was sympathetic towards her sister's shame right now, but truthfully, the girl had brought it on herself. And what she had said was true—maybe this would cement this lesson in her sister's mind for good. Besides, after everything that Quinn had put Rachel through—both in school and over the last few weeks—Quinn deserved to be taken down a few pegs.
Rachel wasn't sure what to do with this information. Part of her was elated at the news of Quinn getting hers—and with a hairbrush, no less! As much as Rachel's butt hurt—something she had thought worth it when her secret was still safe, and now, definitely not—it felt good to know that Quinn was hurting in the same way, (and no doubt even more so). At least physically. Emotionally, Rachel was reeling. She wasn't sure what was going to happen between her and Shelby once it was the two of them again—and that made her nervous. She had tried so hard to keep her mother from the truth and now the truth had smacked them both in the face. Where did they go from here?
Shelby was feeling shell-shocked, with a heavy dose of whiplash. There was so much to process and come to terms with. Her child had been viciously tormented at school, both physically and mentally, by the very same girl Shelby had been trying to get her to be friends with. The girl Shelby liked and thought was sweet and would be good for Rachel. The girl that Rachel had made abundantly clear she didn't like—and with good reason, Shelby realized now. How had she missed it before?
Shelby shook her head to clear it, dislodging the stirrings of guilt and self-doubt from taking hold. She would talk to Rachel about all of this, but first, she needed to finish up with the Fabray sisters. Shelby regarded both girls, Quinn with a new distrust, and Frannie with sadness and sympathy. She didn't blame the older blonde—how could she? There was no way for her to know what was going on either. And Quinn…Shelby wanted nothing more than to throttle the blonde teenager and threaten her within an inch of her life for everything she had put Rachel through—but she reminded herself that Quinn was a child just as Rachel was, and had been through traumatic events, too. Like Rachel, Quinn was a lost little girl just looking for love and acceptance; she needed someone to provide boundaries and consistency in her life as well. Unlike Rachel, it wasn't Shelby's job to protect Quinn and so her next words were harsh.
"I appreciate you coming over here and telling me the truth and to offer your apologies. That took courage. I can't speak for Rachel, but I forgive you, Quinn—" She heard a gasp from behind her and held a hand out as she glanced back, urging her child not to interfere. "That said, you are not welcome in my home from this point onward. I think you're probably a very sweet girl and I'm sure you feel bad, but Rachel is my daughter and you will not hurt her. So, I sincerely hope you have learned from this and from your sister's punishment. If not, Quinn—if you do anything to hurt my child again, I will press charges. I would hate to do that but I will do anything I have to in order to protect my Rachel. Am I making myself clear?"
Quinn's only response was to sob loudly. She felt her sister's arm wrap protectively around her shoulders and pull her close. Frannie's body trembled against her own and Quinn heard a hitch in her breath as Frannie spoke for her. "I-It won't, Shelby. You have my w—word."
It took everything in Frannie not to break down crying right along with Quinn. Her stomach churned at Shelby's words. She knew Shelby was completely in the right and Quinn deserved to hear things spelled out that way, but it didn't stop Frannie from feeling bad for her baby sister. Her heart hurt at what Quinn was going through. She felt in way over here head here and couldn't help the thought that flew through her mind—I want my mommy!
Shelby met Frannie's eyes and her heart went out to the younger woman. In this moment, Frannie looked almost as young as the girls did—guilty, tearful, and in desperate need of a hug. Before she could say any more, the doorbell rang and all four heads spun in that direction. Letting out a sigh, she said, "That's our food."
They had been saved by the bell—literally! Taking full advantage of that, Frannie leapt into action, dragging Quinn along with her. "We should go," she mumbled as she shot to her feet. Not quite meeting Shelby or Rachel's eyes, she offered one more apology to both of them and then all but ran to the door. "Sorry, excuse us," she told the startled delivery guy, dancing around him. Quinn jostled his shoulder as Frannie pulled her behind. "Sorry!"
Now free from the confused man, Frannie hurried down the steps, Quinn stumbling and sobbing behind her. Only when they were back in the safety of their own home, the door shut and locked, did Frannie finally let go and begin crying. She led Quinn to the sofa and the two sisters curled up together, holding tightly to one another as they wept out the rest of their release.
A/N: And that is IT for this chapter! Lots and lots of feels in here. I feel sorry for all four characters. Seriously, where do they go from here?! Let me know your thoughts, what you liked, what you're hoping to see next. I love hearing from you! :D