Thank-you for all the reviews and alerts and things :) I really love getting them and it's those that made me carry on this 'one shot'. You guys are all kinds of awesome :)

Rachel shuddered as she limped down the school hall hours later, still able to see the hateful words smeared across the lockers in her own blood. She told herself it was just a dream, that it didn't mean anything, but of course it meant everything. She had thought Finn would be there in real life too, she didn't think he would just leave her to bleed, but she had been bleeding last night and he was nowhere to be found. He had not physically taken the blade to her skin, but he was the reason half of them were there, his words were etched on her skin. The scars spelled out their skins.

The dream was still so fresh and raw in her mind, that when someone grabbed hold of her arm as she pulled books from her locker she gasped and dropped them with a clunk to the bottom of it. When she snapped her head around and saw it was Finn, the irrational part of her still trapped in the nightmare wanted to scream. She blinked at him and backed up slightly, wondering when it was she had become so afraid and jumpy. It was just a dream. Finn was not really going to pull out a knife and drench the walls in her blood.

Although he had been the one to make the contact, Finn would not look at her. He was determinedly staring anywhere but at her face, his gaze flickering from the floor, to the inside of her locker, to her feet, back to her locker again. Rachel raised her eyebrows, and just for a moment she felt an old spark of the person she used to be flicker back to life and her expression softened at the sight of the adorable awkwardness she had always loved about him.

But then she saw what he held in his hand. She saw the guilty flash in his eyes and the way the fist holding the drink twitched towards her, like he was trying to prepare himself for throwing it.

"Karofsky says as we're not dating anymore, there's no rules against me doing this, and I should do it to get over you." Rachel's expression didn't change. She had predicted this, him trying to justify what he was about to do. He had done the same thing when Glee Club was first starting out and he had been told to slushie Kurt. He had explained, as if doing so would make it all right, but of course it didn't. It wasn't right then and it wasn't right now, but Rachel was used to not right. It wasn't like anyone ever really thought about her feelings.

"Then do it," was all she said. She closed her eyes to protect them against the burning ice that was about to hit her. It always hurt worst in the eyes, stinging them like it was acid that had been thrown rather than a frozen drink. She waited for the rush of cold, she waited to feel the cold lumps in her hair, running down her face, sticking her clothes to her body. It took longer than she had predicted, but it came and as it did, she felt not just like she had been hit by a slushie, but as if Finn had thrown his own fist into her face.

After several moments, Rachel dared to open her eyes, feeling the ice trap on her eyelids as she did so. The first thing she saw was Finn, he was staring directly at her and his expression was one of shock and regret. She blinked, her gaze dropping to his hand to view the offending cup, but to her surprise, it wasn't there, Finn's fist was clutched around empty air.

It was not until she heard the cruel laugh ring through the halls that Rachel realised Karofsky had been the one to throw the drink. She waited to feel the relief, a weight off of her aching heart that it had not been Finn who had done it, but it didn't come. Instead, she felt the same crushing sadness that she had felt each time someone had passed her in the halls, shooting her a degrading look or comment when she had still been dating him and he hadn't said a thing in her defence.

Without a word, Rachel drew her eyes away from Finn and reached to the top shelf of her locker for her spare clothes, but her fingers had barely brushed the material when it was whisked away from her and she turned to see Karofsky holding an armful of her clothes and laughing harder than ever. He strode past her, flinging his hand out and shoving it into her stomach as he did so she flew backwards into the lockers.

Rachel did not even try to stop herself falling to the floor as she pressed her own hand to her stomach, the cry of pain going unheard above the noise of the rest of the student body. She closed her eyes and hissed, biting down hard on her bottom lip to stop herself shouting again.

"Right there on the floor is where you belong, Fag Spawn," laughed Karofsky as he walked away, still cackling over his shoulder. Fag Spawn. That was a new one. Was that really what she was? Was it all she had been reduced to? The worthless offspring of two gay men, so desperate for a child. Too bad they had been landed with her. She must be such a disappointment.

Finn was still there. Rachel could feel his presence without having to look up, but for the first time, she wished he wasn't. She was used to him seeing her covered in slushie, she was used to him hearing the names and insults flung her way, she was even used to him standing by and not doing a thing. What she wasn't used to was him being a part of it. He had been right there, and even the coward Finn she had dated would not have just stood there as Karofsky had had thrown her to the floor, dripping with slushie and called her that name.

In her eyes, him standing by Karofsky's side instead of hers made him just as much a part of it as the guy who had thrown her down there. And now he was reaching a hand down to help her. He slipped his hand into hers and lifted it uselessly, in an attempt to haul her to her feet, but Rachel batted him away so fast and then snapped her hand back to her side so quickly, as if she couldn't bare to have him touch her. Still, she did not look at him.

"Rachel," he began, but broke off again without finishing the sentence. Rachel didn't care. She didn't want to hear it, what she wanted more than anything was for him to leave her alone, alone and bleeding just like he always did. No, what she wanted more than anything was her blade. The only friend who had always stood by her, she knew it would help her now. She just wanted it to make everything better, to take away the stain of that name.

"I didn't know he was going to do that," Finn said at last. "I mean, I knew about the slushie, but that's it. "But I didn't know about-"

"I don't care Finn," Rachel snapped, the first words she had spoken since he had first approached her. "Just leave me alone. Piss off. Now." Finn blinked and stared down at the tiny girl at his feet, who still refused to look at him. She was so...different. Not his Rachel at all. No, not his. Just Rachel. She wasn't her, she just wasn't Rachel. Where were all the long words? Where were the corrections on his own speech, the lecture on how he was acting? And since when did Rachel cuss?

He waited for all of that to start, he waited for the rant, for her to use five words instead of one as she attacked him in the scary Rachel way that she did. That was one thing she had in common with Quinn, both of them were darn scary when they got mad. He thought that was one thing he didn't like about her, that someone so small could actually scare him, but as he watched her curled on the floor as students stampeded around her, he wanted nothing more than for her to yell at him, hit him even because the girl at his feet was just so broken.

But Rachel said just one more word, a whispered word that made the guilt grow until he could barely breathe and he had to remind himself of what she had done, and force the image of her and Puck together in his mind to stop himself from drowning in it.

"Please."

…

The next week dragged by in something of a haze for Rachel. She barely registered where she was going and what for, let alone took anything in. Her classes could have all been taught in French for all the difference it made for her, and although she continued to stumble though her homework, seeing an F scrawled across an essay was becoming something she was used to rather than the outrage it should have been. Once upon a time, a grade like that would have made her want to curl up inside herself and die.

Her latest Spanish assignment landed on her desk with a slap and Rachel barely glance down at it, expecting to see the large red letter glaring back up at her, but instead of a grade, she saw a biro scrawl and it was enough to catch her attention for the couple of seconds it took to read it. See me. Great. She had finally done so badly that she was going to need extra help; but then, it was not like she had anything better to do.

When the bell rang for the end of class, Rachel had no idea what Mr Schue had been talking about, other than it had something to do with Spanish and she was sure the rest of the class must have noticed the absence of her hand waving in the air every two seconds, but had not missed it. Why on Earth would they? Most people were probably glad for the change in her, it meant she was less annoying, less there. At least she didn't have to pack up her things if she was staying after class, that was one bit of effort she didn't have to exert.

Mr Schue waited until the rest of the class had finished trailing out of the room before he pulled up a chair beside Rachel, and she barely looked up when he did. She was trying to summon the energy to spend the next half hour or so looking like she was listening. She turned her attention to her teacher, trying to focus for at least the first few minutes, as that was the time she was most likely to be expected to respond.

"Rachel, do you know why I want to see you?" He asked, and she was surprised to hear the absence of anger in his tone. She had expected a lecture first on how she was letting her grades slip, not trying hard enough, had to straighten up and fly right...on and on and on until she would feel like hitting him, but the look in his eyes wasn't one of disapproval, it was something that Rachel wasn't used to seeing. Concern.

She nodded. "You want to talk to me about how cr- erm, how my grades have gone down." No matter how much she no longer cared about anything, Rachel knew it would not be wise to start cussing in front of a teacher unless it became absolutely necessary. She almost wished he would yell at her so she would have an excuse to rip into him right back and release some of the scream inside her that had built up since that morning as soon as she had opened her eyes.

"Yes and no. I am interested in that, but I'm not here to give you a lecture or tell you how to do it, because I know that you know. You can do this stuff Rachel, you have done so many times before. What I do want to know if why you won't." Rachel shifted in her seat, wishing she was in the crowd outside. She had thought she'd get a lecture she could tune out of, or an extra Spanish lesson that wouldn't make the slightest difference. Instead, she was expected to answer questions, questions she could not even figure out herself.

Rachel shrugged. "I don't know Mr Schue, I just don't see the point."

"The point, Rachel," he said, gently. "Is so you can graduate high school and get a place at college. I know you don't need a Spanish grade to get into Juilliard, but you've always cared about academics and it's very rare I say this to a student, but sometimes too much. This just isn't like you."

Rachel turned away from her teacher, allowing her hair to fall around her face so he didn't see the tears that escaped her eyelids and leaked silently down her cheeks. "The point is, Mr Schue," she said, stiffly, echoing his words, "is I don't want to be like me." With that, she scraped back her chair and stalked right out of the room, almost like her old self, but her head stayed down and her shoes clicked almost silently against the hard tile floor.

…

For the first time since her break up with Finn, Rachel didn't sit away from the others in Glee. Instead, she chose a seat next to Puck, the only person who could possibly understand, to some degree, how she was feeling. Of course he could never truly get it, he wasn't lumbered with the daily taunts from everyone around him, he wasn't constantly reminded of how ugly and worthless he was, but like her, he had been falsely accused of something the entire school believed.

Puck was the only person who didn't taunt her, the only one who at least acknowledged her with a nod when she walked into rehearsal and didn't immediately shoot down all her ideas just because they were coming from her. He actually listened, and she couldn't tell him just how much she appreciated it without him making a gag face and telling her to cut the girly crap, but she wanted him to know that he actually made her feel worth something.

"S'up Berry, you decided to come back to us then?" He said, casually, like she had done nothing more than take a short break from Glee to go on holiday with her dads.

"Not exactly Noah," sighed Rachel, "but I'm trying." Even Rachel didn't know how much truth was in her words. She didn't know why she was sitting with Puck, it certainly wasn't going to help the rumours, but she was so past caring and she needed him. At least he was someone she could talk to without them not so subtly wishing they were somewhere else.

Mr Schue was droning on at the front of the choir room, talking about something Rachel was not tuned into. The mention of her name was just about enough to get her vaguely listening, just in case she was required to respond. Her mask had long since slipped, but she didn't want everyone to see just how empty she had truly become. At least some pretence of normality was needed.

"Rachel, do you have any suggestions for us?" Suggestions for what? Rachel blinked at Mr Schue, dumbfounded. What had they even been talking about? Sectionals had passed...so perhaps they were on Regionals. As far as she was aware, there was not yet a set list, so perhaps that what he was asking, her opinion on a set list. Rachel opened her mouth to say she didn't know, but she'd give it some thought, but Santana cut in first.

"Do you know what your problem is Rupaul?" She snapped. Rachel closed her eyes for the briefest of moments before turning to face her, her shoulders already slumped before the weight of the taunt had been added. Santana stared right back at her, her mouth open as if to say something nasty, but for several seconds, she just stayed staring and Rachel saw something flash through the other girl's face that she did not recognise.

"No, do you want to know what your problem really is?" There was still an edge to Santana's voice, but something in her tone had changed, but Rachel couldn't quite figure it out and she didn't have the energy to think on it. She was sure she was about to find out anyway. "Your problem is you look so fucking sad all the time and if any of you repeat this to anyone outside of this room I'll deny it, but even ripping it out of you is no fun anymore, I feel like I'm kicking Bambi."

It was Rachel's turn to stare. It was the closest to apologising Santana had ever come, and she had not even said she was sorry as such, more of she wanted Rachel to be happy again so she could knock her back down without feeling bad about it.

"What's your point, Santana?" She said, flatly. Santana rolled her eyes in a way that said her next words caused her great pain to admit.

"I lied okay?" She looked around at the rest of the Glee Club. "I never saw Man Hands doing anything with Puck, he has better taste than that and I'm only admitting it because I want her back to her annoying, bossy self so I can go back to my favourite past time."

A stunned silence fell through the room as Santana's voice faded out. Everyone stared at her as if she had just announced she was a lesbian, even the anger did not set in. Rachel waited to feel the relief, happiness even that the lie was finally over and she might have a shot at going back to how her life used to be, but nothing came. She was getting used to that, not feeling what she should. Before all the eyes of the Glee Club could shift to her, Rachel got to her feet and walked calmly from the room with no idea of either where she was headed to, or what it was, exactly, that she was running from.

Reviews are really appreciated. So's sleep, which I should do. I have to be up in four hours.