Author's Note: WAHHH! Sorry guys! I'm sorry this is such a late update but I've been so busy with school. I'm going to try to get around to updating a few of my stories this week. I've also been really busy reading The Hunger Games lol. What did you guys think of the mid-season finale of Glee?

Things you should notice: this is completely AU. I'm going to use some of the characters characteristics on Glee but as you will see everything is different. I hope you enjoy regardless!

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of Glee. I do own this plotline

Summary: What happens if nobody believes you except the one person who shouldn't? When a girl is raped, conflict arises and she falls for the enemy. Humankind disappoints us repeatedly but love is like the stars and saves us everytime. Finchel AU

Warning: language, rape, sexual abuse, self-harm, bullying, etc.

Rating: M

Pairing: Finn/Rachel Finchel

CHAPTER TWO

the betrayal of trust carries a heavy taboo

-Aldrich Ames

McKinley is plastered with posters. Streams of white and bright red ribbons hang from the ceilings of every classroom; there are "SUPPORT MCKINLEY FOOTBALL" posters on the bathroom doors, "See McKinley's Sexiest Team" flyers in the student mailboxes (much to the disgust of McKinley's basketball and soccer team), and "McKinley Football Men are BAMFs" posters—which are being rapidly torn down by the more conservative teachers but not as quickly as they are being replaced and put up again. Spirit week is huge. The excitement in the air is contagious; almost all of the members of the entire student body cannot wait for Homecoming as it comes closer and closer.

Homecoming is huge. The game is, at least. Especially because it's rumored that McKinley will flatten Garfield. The Cheerios have never practiced so hard. The football team has never been so tired and been written so many passes. The teachers have never had so many school brawls.

Girls are asking boys to the dance for that Saturday; boys are asking girls. There are the traditional methods of straightforward questions; there is the less traditional route of boys dressing up like gorillas or superheroes and presenting girls roses or bananas. There are the couples that don't even have to ask one another—it's a given that they're going together; there are the shy boys who finally muster up the courage to ask the girls of their dreams.

In all of the excitement, Rachel Barbra Berry stays quiet. She doesn't have a date to the dance—or at least a date that she wants (Jacob Ben Israel will get a yes from her when Hell freezes over). It's not that surprising though, Rachel has never had a date to these things, and the one boy that she wants is taken—Cheerio Captain Quinn Fabray with her clear skin and her impossibly long eyelashes makes sure of that as she flaunts herself into Finn's grasp. Rachel doesn't even know if she wants to go to the game. Tina refuses to go to either the dance or the game, saying that school spirit "restrains her freedom and makes her a slave to the public education system" and Blaine is going only to secretly meet up with Kurt.

While everybody else is consumed with excitement, Rachel can't possibly feel more alone.

ooo

Puck stands with his hands on his knees as he struggles to catch his breath. He pushed back his tousled, chocolate brown hair that lays flat when it's not spiked up in his trademark mohawk, and eyes Finn. "Y-your dad was friggin' insane today."

Finn wheezes, pushing a dirty hand through his now stringy, wet hair. Even though it's cold outside, his face still flames from the incredibly rigorous practice Christopher put the football team through. "I know."

"I can't even feel my legs," Puck moans as he slowly straightens his body, his face a twisted mask of discomfort at every move. "Ugh."

"Yeah man," Finn grabs his water bottle and chugs the entire thing effortlessly. Using up his remaining energy, he sends the water bottle flying into the trashcan. "Let's hit the showers."

"Sounds good." Puck nods as he heads towards the gym locker room. He turns and looks grimly at Finn. "Why was your dad so fucking intense today? Does he think we're gonna lose?"

"I don't know," Finn says with an offbeat shrug of his right shoulder. He drops his water bottle on the floor as he strips off his shirt and steps into the shower.

He says he doesn't know but as the strong blast of water hits him, he closes his eyes and wishes that he could forget.

ooo

It is the Friday of the Homecoming game and the excitement had risen to a level that Rachel didn't even think possible.

She sits quietly in front of her locker, scrawling out potential lyrics to a song into a notebook decorated with stars. Rachel carefully pens in an "I love you" underneath "What will it take you to notice me?" Frustrated, a tear slips out of the corner of one eye, and she hurriedly brushes it away before some Cheerio can come along and give her hell for being single and alone and a loser.

"Hey."

Rachel shuts her notebook, alarmed, and looked up to see no other than the object of her affection and the topic of her song himself. Finn grins easily, his lip almost drawn up in a smirk, his hand pressed against her locker. He bends down to crouch over her shoulder. "What are you writing?"

"Uh, nothing," Rachel murmurs hurriedly. She pulls the notebook protectively to her chest. "Just some homework problems."

Finn doesn't press or tease, he just gives her his good-natured smile, so Rachel figures he really hasn't seen her lyrics. Or the "I love Finn Hudson" on the corner of her notebook page. Well at least she really, really hopes he hasn't.

"You coming to our game?"

"Uh… I…maybe." Rachel tries to control the incredible beating of her heart. She avoids looking at his firm, strong hands because they make her feel queasy. Despite the fact he's a football guy, he has a guitarist's hands. Or a drummer's hands? Shaking the image of Finn's fingers wrapped around drumsticks out of her head, she focuses on what he's saying. She takes in a whiff of his cologne and tries to resist swooning.

"Good." He smiles, flashing his perfectly white teeth. Rachel can't tear her eyes from a freckle near his lips. "I'll see you there."

"Finn!" Puck gestures toward his friend. He doesn't bother to even give Rachel a glance. "Come on; let's go buy food."

"I'm coming," Finn says in an exasperated manner. He straightens himself up and walks off, giving Rachel an off-hand wave behind him.

I'll see you there.

The words echo in Rachel's head and she suddenly realizes how truly excited she is for Homecoming. It's amazing how much emotion a single boy can instill in her.

In fact, a boy she hardly knows.

ooo

There's nothing worse than the feeling of regret growing hard in your throat. You swallow to get rid of it but it just remains there, dead and soulless. And it eventually slides down into your stomach and sits there like a dead weight.

Shelby stands in front of her house, her hand balanced precariously on her cold metal mailbox as if it's the only thing stabilizing her body and keeping it upright. She feels the tear slide slowly down her cheek, freezing in the cold air before it hits the collar of her blouse. She watches as Christopher drives his car to his house and feels like the seven feet have suddenly become a distance that could span the world.

ooo

Rachel bunches her hands up inside the pockets of her white jacket, pulling the furry hood closer to her body. Damn. Her mom has the car so it looks like she'll have to walk. Good thing McKinley isn't that far from her home.

Her shoes stab the street as she pass the Hudson house. She instinctively backs away when she sees the dark grey truck backing out of the driveway. She doesn't want to get nearly run over again.

The truck turns and Rachel looks through the fogged window at Christopher Hudson. He moves over to the right side of the car and rolls down the window.

"Hello Miss Vendeza!" he automatically saluted her and Rachel gives Finn's father an easy and slightly hesitant smile in return.

"Hey Coach Hudson." Rachel shivers, pulling her jacket more over her head.

"Where are you going?" Christopher taps his fingers against his steering wheel, reminding Rachel of Finn.

"Homecoming," Rachel states simply, as she rubs the top of her right shoe with her left shoe, trying to clean it. Her right shoe just becomes filthier and she sighs in defeat.

"Well I'm heading over there now; I just had to go back home real quick to get Finn an extra shoulder pad—do you want a ride?"

Rachel shrugs one shoulder. Why not? "Yes Mr. Hudson, that would be lovely."

"Call me Chris," Christopher says, as he opens the car door. Rachel climbs in, noticing that Christopher's car is nothing like Finn's. There are no faded seats, no dream catchers, no scent of the woods. Christopher's car clashes with its hard, leather seats and the smell of sweat. Rachel finds herself idly wondering how such a simple, straightforward man has created such an incredible son.

She leans against the chair's hard back and shuts the door, strapping on her seatbelt. Then she turns and looks at Christopher, trying to hide her disappointment in him. How is he Finn's father? What does Shelby see in him? She finds herself not judging him by who he is but by who he isn't. Rachel smiles at him, wondering if she looks as fake as she feels.

Christopher pushes his foot down on the gas pedal and they start off on a steady pace. The car's wheels slide every so often on the wet streets, but Rachel feels secure with Christopher. Comfortable.

"So you excited to see this game?" Christopher asks as he adjusts his rearview mirror.

"Yeah," Rachel answers. "I mean, aren't we supposed to do a lot better than Garfield? Like really destroy them?" She crinkles her nose; something smells like dirt and unwashed bodies and she really doesn't know what it is.

Christopher chuckles. "I don't know where these rumors keep coming from. We're doing alright, I guess."

Rachel calms herself down when she realized the smell is coming from Christopher. Eww, she says to herself. She studies him out of the corner of her eye, noticing his unshaven face and his oily-looking hair.

This is strange.

Christopher, though the captain of the football team, is usually clean-cut. After all, Shelby doesn't fall for sleazy men.

Rachel shrugs Christopher's appearance off. Maybe she is just being difficult. After all, Christopher, obviously, could never live up to Finn's ultimate perfection. They can't even be compared even though they are father and son.

Christopher is generally clean cut with a rugged, wild, manly side. Finn was clean cut and pure—exciting and fast like a cold stream of water, with a sweet personality and a golden heart.

They shouldn't be compared.

Ever.

ooo

Shelby sobs frantically as she stands in the aisle of Whole Foods market. She throws a bag of garlic chips behind her back; she pushes past a bag of whole-wheat chips, searching frantically for chocolate covered sunflower seeds.

She scrounges in the back of the shelf until she finds them, buried behind bags of salt-free pretzels. Grabbing frantically, she clears out the shelf, taking all eight remaining bags. She grabs a jar of chocolate frosting for good measure.

As she checks out, the cashier looks at her a bit nervously. Shelby wonders if everybody can see how vulnerable she really was.

ooo

Rachel licks her lips nervously again as Christopher continues the drive. They are going into territory that is near her house, but not near McKinley. She'd thought she knew the way to McKinley quite well. Maybe she's wrong.

She's beginning to hope she's wrong. Severely wrong. Insanely wrong. Dread hits her in the stomach like a wet bag of cement.

"Uh, Coach Hudson?" she offers hesitantly as Christopher drives deeper into an area with small alleyways and wet sewers. "Are we going the right way?"

"Yes, Miss Berry, I have to stop and get something for the boys," Coach Hudson smiles. There's something off about it. Maniacal. Wrong. "Don't get your panties into a twist now."

Don't get your panties into a twist now.

Rachel is surprised her heart doesn't stop beating. She feels her body tense and she looks over at Christopher, whose mouth is in a grim, straight line. Christopher never talks like this, he never looks like this, and there is something seriously wrong. Rachel breathes heavily as she looks outside the passing scenery outside and realizes what she has to do. She scrambles for the door handle, popping off her seatbelt.

"Rachel, what are you doing?" There is alarm racing in Christopher's voice as Rachel falls out of the car and onto the concrete. Her knees are scraped and bleeding through her grey leggings, but she gets up and starts off on a wild run, not looking back as the car screeches to a halt behind her.

She doesn't stop running when she hears the door slam behind her. She doesn't look back when the steady slap of Christopher's shoes hit the concrete as he chases her, pursuing her. Her heart slams hard in her chest, making her nauseous as Christopher shouts for her to stop.

She doesn't stop. Her steps only get more wild, her strides only larger as she runs from this man she thought she knew, but apparently doesn't at all.

And all the sudden, she's jerked back hard, the wind knocked out of her as she falls on her back against the concrete. Rachel tries to scream as she feels Christopher's large hand squeezing her wrist, his thick arm around her neck, and she's stunned by a harsh blow to her head. Reeling, she feels Christopher turn her around. Heavy hands on her delicate waist drag her back up to a standing position and her throat closes up in fear as she feels him grind up behind her, his jeans now encasing a painfully large bulge brushing against her backside.

God no.

But God doesn't seem to hear her as Rachel has her leggings ripped down and her underwear trampled in the ground. Rachel struggles in Christopher's grasp, fighting desperately to escape, but Christopher jerks her head back with her hair. She tries to scream again, but Christopher slaps her hard across the face, stunning her into silence. Tears now streaming down her face, mixing with the light mascara she'd applied, Rachel becomes silent. Christopher snarls behind her, running his hands up her hips and squeezing her breasts viciously. She gasps and tries to jerk away again, her attempts fruitless in his grasp. Her stomach turns over as she hears the sound of a zipper being pulled down and the crackling noise of a condom wrapper.

With a thud, Rachel is slammed against the concrete; her head explodes with pain. She whimpers, but stops as Christopher slaps her hard across the face again.

"Listen, bitch," he hisses, leering close to her face. "You're going to enjoy this, you hear? You think I don't know you want this? Always with your short skirts and your tight leggings and your tight shirts—you've got everybody thinking you're a sweet girl but you're nothing but a whore. And you're gonna do your job, you hear?"

Rachel bites back a sob and closes her eyes as Christopher pulls the condom on. He pulls her bra strap hard so it snaps. He ignores Rachel's yelp of pain and grins sadistically, dragging his tongue in a slow pattern between her small breasts. Christopher glances at Rachel, his eyes glazed and full of lust before biting on one of her nipples so hard, Rachel screams.

"I told you to shut the fuck up," Christopher growls. He fishes Rachel's panties from the ground and forces her mouth open, shoving them in. Rachel struggles and strains, thinking she might vomit, when her mind shrouds with pain again as she feels a finger pushed into her between her legs. She screams and screams, her hysterical cries muffled by the cloth in her mouth.

Christopher heaves himself above her, pulling his finger out. His erection is terrifying large as he positions himself in front of her entrance. Then, with a grunt, Christopher slams into her. He begins thrusting rhythmically, filling the air with his guttural moans, his eyes closed in a sick ecstasy as he pushes in faster and harder.

Rachel has forgotten how to scream.

"So tight," Christopher's voice groans above her, in a different world. Rachel has stopped crying, her brain refusing to focus on anything but the agony that overwhelms her. She didn't know that anything could hurt this badly.

She turns her head to the side, allowing her cheek to rest against the cement, a tear trickling from her eye as she looks at the hazy outline of the building in front of her. Graffitied onto the wall in black paint are the words "Anything is possible." Her throat closes up and she sobs silently, knowing nobody will hear her. Knowing she is truly alone in the world.

Rachel still cannot scream. Her brain frantically yells at her, begging her to cry out, to lash out, to do something, but her body remains motionless, trapped underneath the weight of this man, her trusted neighbor, Finn's dad, above her. All the years of knowing Christopher Hudson has come to a screeching halt.

"Fuck," Christopher moans, his breath framed in the air above her. His unshaven face crumples into a look of sadistic bliss. His thrusts become less rapid, and now are agonizingly slow. He grunts as he climaxes, his face awash with lust and he pulls roughly out of her, making Rachel gasp. A trail of blood escapes from between Rachel's legs; her broken, battered body lies prone on the ground. Her hands clench close and she now sobs openly, freely, not even looking up as Christopher's car rattled off.

Everything has changed.

ooo

The two blocks home are the longest distance she has ever walked.

ooo

Shelby ravenously stuffs a spoon of chocolate frosting into her mouth, her tears threatening to spill over. She sits inside her car parked outside of her house, staring at the Hudson home next door.

"Damn it," she mutters under her breath, and then louder, "DAMN IT!"

She punches the steering wheel, the sound of her horn only inciting more emotion. She glared at her reflection in her side mirror and then suddenly, her face crumples like a piece of flimsy origami. Sobbing hysterically, she clambers out of her car, leaving the door open. Her fingers fumble with her keys to her home and after five tries, she manages to open the door to her house. Crying, she slams the door of her house and falls against the wooden door, whimpering softly. Tears mix with her painstakingly applied mascara, running in black streaks down her face.

She drops her frosting to the side and looked up, her eyes brimming over.

"I am so tired of this," she whispers softly, her only audience the wooden floor in front of her. "Just end it. End it."

Shelby's thoughts drift and she shuts her eyes hard and tries to gather herself together. She leans over to pick up her can of frosting and sees Rachel's faded shoes next to the door.

Rachel's shoes. Rachel must have come home early. But why?

Shelby braces herself for the worst. Homecoming disaster, no friends there, McKinley lost. Shelby wipes the tears from her face, not caring that her mascara has smeared everywhere. She has a purpose now. She has to be a mother, and she'll listen to her daughter's problems no matter how petty they are. "Rachel?"

There is no answer.

"Rachel?" Shelby asks cautiously as she treads up the stairs. She heads for her daughter's room, but finds the pink-walled room eerily empty. The silence is unbelievably loud, and Shelby begins to feel uncomfortable in hr own home. "Rachel?"

Her heart is beating faster now; Rachel always answers when Shelby calls for her, even when they're fighting. Something unbelievably bad must have happened. "Rachel?"

Suddenly, the frosting decides to take this time to wrack its revenge on her. Her stomach twists in pain, and Shelby runs for the bathroom. Only to find it locked.

"Rachel?" Shelby calls frantically, knocking on the door. "You almost done? I have to use the bathroom."

There is no answer.

"Rachel Barbra Berry! Did you hear me, young lady? Answer me when I'm talking to you!"

Silence.

"Rachel, open this door right now!"

Sighing in frustration, Shelby pulls a bobby pin out of her hair and picks the lock, shoving it open. "Rachel, why weren't you-"

She stops. Her heart feels like it had dropped into her stomach, and she stares, fixated at the scene—no, the horror—in front of her. Rachel, clad only in a pair of dark panties and a white bra, sits shuddering in the bathtub, looking straight ahead. Her body shivers sporadically as the water rains down on her from the showerhead. The door of the shower is open so that water spews onto the tile floor. Rachel's brown hair is stringy and dripping; the water level has risen almost up to her elbows. Shelby's eyes trail over her daughter's body; she takes in the scratch marks across Rachel's chest that she guesses and almost hopes are self-inflicted wounds.

Shelby's head spins; she feels like throwing up. Taking a deep breath to steady her unsteady breathing, she looks at her daughter. "Rachel, what happened?"

Her daughter doesn't answer, but lets the water of the shower continue to beat down on her, her empty, hollow eyes still fixed ahead. Silently, Rachel pulls her legs closer to her chest.

"Rachel?" Shelby struggles to breathe normally; she steps forward and shuts off the water, which she realized is freezing. Rachel must have been in here for close to an hour. "Rachel?" Shelby reaches forward to grasp her daughter's shoulder.

With an inhuman scream, Rachel jerks away from her mom and clambers clumsily out of the water, her movements animal-like as she tries to pull herself into the corner of the bathtub, as far away from Shelby as she can get.

"Rachel," Shelby's voice breaks with pain as she reaches over to touch her daughter again.

Rachel's sobs are ragged and empty. She flinches as her mom touches her shoulder; her whole body stiffens with fear. But then, her cries became less vocal, quieter, and she allows herself to crawl into her mother's arms like the child she is.

Shelby's clothes are soaked now; she wades in the bathtub full of water, and pulled Rachel close, ignoring the frigid temperature. Rachel's body slackens and she sobs openly, her body heaving, into her mom's shoulder.

"Rachel, what happened?" Shelby manages to choke out, her voice hitching with concern.

"Oh Mommy," Rachel whimpers, as she clutches her mom closer, "Mommy, he raped me."

Author's Note: GAHHH this was so hard to write. I hope I did it justice.

Replies to anonymous reviews:

Bueller: And so you picked up on Christopher's shadiness. I hope this was enough drama for you. ahhhh

onlykote: Thanks so much for the feedback! I'm sorry I've tortured Rachel so much but I hope you're enjoying it!

Ianthe: well I guess your question about their parents being nice can be answered with this chapter... eeep

FinchelFan728: I'm glad! i hope you keep reading!

comegetit: Agh. I hope I did the rape scene justice... thanks for reading and reviewing!

sammystump: wow I appreciate the feedback so much. I hope you enjoyed this chapter! And your question was answered... eep it was a yes, unfortunately!

Story Favs: 15

Story Alerts: 51

Story Hits: 8,035

-sf