This chapter will be triggering. Like every chapter has been so far.
There were just so many knives. Some small, some big, some much sharper than others. Carving knives, ordinary kitchen knives, craft knives and even a cleaver. They were all different colours too. The handles were black, white, purple, red and even yellow. There were razor blades too, and even eyebrow shavers which Rachel hadn't even known existed up until then. Each item seemed to be begging to be bought, and they all looked so appealing. It was as if someone had taken everything sharp they could find and bunched it together in one backstreet shop. And she wanted them. She wanted all of them. A perfect collection of blades.
It was not the place Rachel would usually chose to shop, but she knew they wouldn't ask for ID, and her dads had already noticed their razors and the nail scissors were missing, as well as the blade from the blender. If she didn't replace everything else soon, they were going to start to ask some serious questions. Of course she was never going to get the exact ones they had before, but she'd just have to hope they wouldn't notice that, or at least decide they were just imagining things. It wasn't as if they cooked often. Rachel was the only one who ever used the knives.
It was not as if she hadn't been trying. She had thought of what Puck had said, and she'd taken to doing something else whenever the urge overcame her. She'd write the words on her skin in red pen instead, or practise her singing, plan something for Glee Club, or even go downstairs and chat about mundane things with her dads if they were in. The problem was they rarely were, and now the blade from her ice skates was hidden under her mattress. There had even been times when she'd considered taking Puck up on his offer and phoning him, but she'd never quite been able to bring herself to push the button.
Resisting had been hard, but standing there in front of all the sharp, gleaming blades was impossible. She wanted them more than she had ever wanted any material thing, and would happily have exchanged all the money in her savings for the collection. It was not so much a plan to use them, but to have them. To know they were there, just in case, a whole assortment. She could chose which one she wanted to use, and they would be completely hers. Buying her own blades would give her that extra bit of power.
Rachel selected the knives and replacement scissors carefully, trying her best to remember what the previous had looked like and match the news ones as accurately as possible. The knives were easy enough to find, plain black handles, but it was the scissors she had trouble with. Their old ones had been large with red finger holes, and although the shop had a whole variety of knife colours, they only seemed to sell black and plain silver scissors. In the end, Rachel opted for the black, which at least had a plastic cover over the finger holes, and just hoped her dads wouldn't notice.
It was the second part of her selection that took the longest. She knew she could not leave the shop without buying something for herself, the desire was too strong, but she'd have to be careful. Chose just a couple of things. Not only would it look suspicious taking so many blades to the counter, but she barely had enough money to cover her lunch for the next day, and that was without the extra purchase, but it was worth going without food.
She had a craft knife, so that wasn't an option. Then there was scissors, but they were always awkward to use, and ordinary knives were too big, she wanted something she could carry in her pocket without provoking questions if it were ever found. Not that there was anything that was going to allow her to get away with that, carrying around any sort of blade that did not belong, and was attached, to a sharpener was frowned upon. Except for perhaps, the eyebrow shaver. It was a small but seemingly sharp blade on a white plastic handle. It was long too, designed to be able to hold with whilst trying to get to your eyebrow. They came in packs too, she could by three for just two dollars.
Rachel chewed her lip as she stared at the packet, longing to pick it up and add it to her basket, but she couldn't stop herself thinking of Noah's hug, his promise and the concern he had shown in his own angry, bad ass way. But she didn't have to use it, she just wanted to have it. Noah would never have to know. He wasn't going to take to searching her house on a regular basis and it was a perfectly innocent item. It could just be used for eyebrow shaving. Rachel pushed her guilt aside as she took the packet from the shelf and dropped it amongst the rest of her shopping. She didn't have to use it. It was fine. She just wanted it there. To add to her collection.
…
Mr Schue's voice was buzzing in the background. He was talking about Regionals, and how important it was becoming to compose a set list. Rachel resisted the temptation to roll her eyes. The part of her that could be bothered to care had been telling him for weeks that they should be constructing one, and now two weeks before Regionals, he wanted to begin focusing on it. She heard him ask for suggestions, but she didn't bother to put up her hand, although her mind had been overflowing with them for weeks. No one ever listened to her.
It took her a while to realise all eyes were on her, waiting for her to say something. So now they wanted to know. They didn't care when she needed them, they didn't care when she was standing in the middle of the room and screaming. They didn't even look up. But they cared now, when it was them who needed her help. If that was what it could really be called. Whatever she suggested they would just shoot it down until a few days later when someone else suggested the exact same thing and everyone praised them for a fantastic idea. No one would remember that Rachel suggested it first.
"I think we should do original songs for Regionals," she said, before she could stop herself. She couldn't help it. She had an idea and they were looking to her. It had become almost a natural instinct to respond. Of course, as soon as she had spoken, someone just had to bring her down again. As if giving her just that one tiny bit of something positive was too much like hard work.
"And who's going to write them? None of us know anything about writing a song. I suppose you thought you could and keep your precious spotlight again so none of the rest of us had a chance to even open our mouths. No one wants to keep hearing your voice hobbit, you aren't even that good." Santana had started with her taunts again shortly after confessing to her lie. Rachel had hoped that maybe after seeing what she could really be, some of the others may start standing up for her more, but all she heard were titters and murmurs of agreement.
"Besides, you aren't pretty enough for the spotlight," Quinn chipped in with a smirk, tossing her perfect golden hair as she spoke. Rachel turned her head down to her lap and closed her eyes. She wished she hadn't spoken. She wished she hadn't even come. She wished she had her blade. She wished, that just for once, their teacher would say something.
"Stop it guys," she heard Finn say, awkwardly. She wanted to appreciate the gesture, but it was just too little too late. If he had defended her from the beginning, she might have found the strength to keep their words at bay. Knowing she had someone on her side could have stopped the crushing rejections and feeling of utter worthlessness that came with it. "Let her talk."
"It's okay Finn," Rachel heard herself say. "It's more than clear that no one holds any interest in what I have to say, but their criticisms are rich. Coming from the girl whose beauty comes from implants and artificial products and another who got herself pregnant and kicked out of her own home at the tender age of sixteen." Quinn leapt up immediately and Santana opened her mouth furiously, but before either of them could lay into her, Mr Schue finally spoke.
"Rachel, that's enough," he said, sharply. The injustice of it all stung so badly, that Rachel could not even respond to defend herself. She always knew her teacher saw her in less of a light than he did the others, just like they believed, he thought she needed taking down from her pedestal, but even he couldn't fail to see that she was not the only perpetrator. The one time she had snapped and spat back, all the blame was on her. Why did he not care that Santana had said she had no talent, or Quinn had said she was too ugly for the stage? Did her feelings not matter, or was it just too true to be argued with?
She stood up, the chair scraping loudly against the ground as she did. Rachel could almost hear everyone's eyes roll. She was just man hands having another dramatic storm out. Nothing to worry about, and certainly nothing to care about. Perhaps they might care when she didn't come back. Maybe they'd even seek her out and ask that she did come to future meetings, but they wouldn't need her, they'd need her voice. And she just couldn't do it anymore. She couldn't be 'the voice'.
But of course, she always would be. What else did she have to offer? Beside that, she was just irritating, and spoiled and ugly. She was all the words that were carved into her skin, she was every cut she ever made, every insult ever shot at her, every filthy look that ever came her way, every rejection that crushed her. She was no longer the shining star, destined to be the brightest in the sky. That star had died, and now she was nothing but a black hole. And trying was just too darn hard.
"I'm done," she admitted, her voice lined with all the defeat she felt curling up inside her and taking everything else with it, killing all life that remained. She didn't look at any of their faces, not even Kurt's, and especially not Puck's. If she caught his eye, they would both know what was going through her mind.
Rachel did not storm loudly and dramatically from the room as she always did. She walked, her head down so her hair fell across her face, hiding her expression from view. She kept the strap of her bag clutched tightly to her chest, wishing it were enough to hold her together and carefully controlled the tear that ran down each cheek. Enough now.
Enough.
On a lighter note, I got my wand. 12.75 inches, Laurel, dragon heartstring, slightly springy and I'm in Ravenclaw. (For any of you who think I've cracked, I'm talking about Pottermore, the website.) I was one of the lucky folk to get in early and it is the most exciting thing I have ever done in my life. I have shopped in Diagon Alley, ridden on the Hogwarts express and been sorted. I can also duel, and make potions and earn house points. My life has never been this amazing.
Also, (don't read if you haven't seen 'I Am Unicorn) what happened between Rachel and Shelby in Glee? I was so confused. One moment Rachel was yelling at her, then they were singing together. Did Rachel actually ask her to join or was it a fantasy? Because when she turned around at the end of the song, Shelby wasn't there and I thought that might be significant.
If you want to make it even more amazing, you could leave a review, because you're amazing.