Trigger warning. But I'm assuming you all know that by now. Although, this chapter does get a little graphic in places. At the end, mainly.
"It looks like the Easter Bunny's funeral in here," Rachel commented as she walked into Monica and Chandler's apartment to find Superman, an armadillo and Santa huddled together, the room lit by candle light. Hiram and Leroy Berry laughed out loud, despite having seen the same episode so many times before that they could recite it by heart. They were sat on the couch with their arms around one another, for once home before ten.
Rachel had actually been able to have dinner with them, but she hadn't been able to eat any of it. She was too distracted by preparing her speech in her head, too nervous about delivering it. How was she supposed to tell them what she had been doing to herself? She couldn't do it, she physically couldn't. They would not pick up on subtle hints, and Rachel would rather die than show them what she had done. She couldn't stand there and face them as the words came out of her mouth and watch their faces break.
So she had retreated to room as soon as dinner was over and ignored their questions about what was wrong. Rachel had kept herself busy as long as possible. She had done not only her homework for the next day, but for all of the next week. She had cleaned out her room, including her wardrobe and had three bin sacks full of things to throw out. She had even got around to beginning to plan a set list for Regionals, only to remember she was no longer in Glee Club.
It was almost midnight when Rachel realised she had nothing else to do and finally ventured downstairs to find her dads, who were busy watching an old Friends DVD, and didn't seem to notice the time. They didn't even look surprised when Rachel curled up beside them to watch, using the television as an excuse to be silent while she tried to pluck up the courage to tell them. If she didn't, Miss Pillsbury would. She had been told her parents would have to be informed, but had been given one night for a chance to do it herself. Even Rachel agreed that it would be better coming from her.
In typical Rachel Berry fashion, she had tried to argue with her guidance counsellor, but Miss Pillsbury had prattled on about 'receiving the best help possible' and 'extra support'. She was convinced telling Hiram and Leroy was the answer. Rachel did not agree. She could not see, to any extent, how telling her dads would help, but the look on Kurt's face when she had finally allowed herself to meet his eyes after showing him what she had done to herself was enough convince her to at least try. For him, if not herself, even though she was mad at him.
She was mad at Miss Pillsbury too, even though all she was trying to do was her job. She did not make the rules, Rachel knew that, but it didn't stop her being irrationally angry with the woman. What did she know about what would help? For all she knew, Rachel had a terrible relationship with her fathers, and telling them would do more harm than good. She was furious that someone could believe in such a magical fix it cure. But Rachel hadn't said any of that, not when it mattered. She'd just gone quiet and nodded along when she realised she was not going to win the argument, for once lost for words. She'd never felt more powerless than she had done then as she was told what was going to happen in her life next.
Perhaps she could tell her dads she had done it, but it had been a one off. Maybe she could tell them nothing, and pretend that she had? But she knew before that plan had even began to properly form that it was no use. Kurt had told Mr Schue and Miss Pillsbury everything, she'd even been forced to show them. They didn't know about her legs, but she'd had to tell them it had been going on for months, since before her break up with Finn. There was no going back in her relationship with him now. He was going to want nothing more to do with her when he found out.
The television screen went black suddenly, and Rachel blinked, coming out of her trance at last to realise her father, Hiram, had switched it off with the remote and both of her dads were now staring at her, their expressions mixtures of concern and curiosity. Had they been talking to her? It was only with the silence that Rachel realised how much of a comfort the background noise had been, it was a diversion of attention, for both her and her fathers, and something to fill the gaping void of quiet that filled the room now.
Before anyone could fill it with words, the doorbell rang, sounding one thousand times louder both through the silence and foreboding. It was the middle of the night, whoever it was wasn't there for a social call. Immediately, Rachel jumped up to answer it, paranoid thoughts creeping into her mind that it might be someone there to hurt her dads. It wouldn't be the first time they had faced homophobic attacks, and Rachel was used to coming home to find their house egged, or being called after in the street.
Hiram and Leroy were fast behind her as Rachel darted for the door, one reaching out hand to stop her as if afraid of the same thing she was, but she grabbed the handle and flung it open before either of them could stop her, realising too late that she should have at least armed herself. But to both her relief and dread, it was not the barrel of a gun she found herself staring at, or even a gang of teenagers, but her mother.
Shelby peered over Rachel's shoulder, glaring at her dads with such intensity that Rachel shrunk back, afraid of her anger. Was she really so mad that Rachel came to her house? Was she that desperate to have her out of her life? She felt the tears prick at the back of her eyes, but blinked them away quickly. She wasn't going to cry, not again. Enough people had seen that weakness for one day.
"I see you're in at last," said Shelby, coldly. Hiram and Leroy did nothing but stare at her with blank expressions on their faces. Rachel couldn't blame them, she had told them nothing of going to see her mother again, of the visit Shelby had paid her while they were out, she hadn't even told them how things had panned out between them the previous year, just that the two had made a mutual decision to go their separate ways.
Both her dads' gazes fell onto Rachel, searching her out for answers, but she couldn't even bring herself to look at them. Without a word, she turned away from her mother and headed towards the stairs, but her foot was barely on the first step before Leroy called her back.
"Rachel! Come back here and tell us what on earth is going on!" She stopped and took a few seconds to compose herself. She had to appear composed, even if inside she was screaming because she couldn't stand this right now. Too much had spiralled out of control and fallen apart that day without adding another rejection to the list. It was ironic how her mother was there to tell Rachel to leave her alone, when all she wanted was the exact same thing. Shelby would never have to see her again if only she would leave Rachel alone.
"I have as little idea as you do," Rachel lied, turning back to face her father's angry expression. He was obviously no happier about her mother's visit than she was.
"Then you'll be just as curious as we are," Leroy retorted. "Now if you'll kindly join us in the lounge, we clearly have things to discuss."
Rachel opened her mouth to argue that it was the middle of the night, and she needed to go to bed right then if she were to get the appropriate amount of sleep needed to function adequately during the next school day, but Shelby interrupted her before she had even started.
"Actually, I would rather speak to the two of you alone. Rachel can join us in a moment," she said, so coldly that Rachel almost expected icicles to form on her lips. Her insides burned with curiosity at what could have made her mother so mad with her dads. Was she this angry that they couldn't keep their daughter under control and away from her life? Did she really object to her occasional presence in her life that much?
But before anyone could argue further, Rachel dashed upstairs to her room and shut the door firmly behind her. She may be curious, but she was equally sure that whatever it was that Shelby wanted to speak to her dads about so badly wasn't something she wanted to hear. As tired as she was though, Rachel knew she would never sleep. She was too worried about what was going on downstairs, her mind too alive with the events of the day.
There were murmured voices travelling through the floor from downstairs, and Rachel quickly plucked her i-pod from her bedside table and turned the volume up so she didn't have to hear anything. She couldn't make out what was being said, even without the music, but she didn't want to take that chance. Moments later, she was extremely grateful for her decision as she heard the very obvious sound of raised voices. But to her surprise, it wasn't her mother's shout she head, but her dads'. Both of them. The music grew louder, but now she knew they were there, there was no blocking out the voices. She may not have been able to physically hear them, but she could guess what had been said, and the pain tore through her just the same as if she could hear each word.
If the music couldn't stop the pain, there was one thing that could. But would it still work? It wasn't a secret anymore, it wasn't private, it wasn't hers. It felt contaminated now, even the thought was different. It wasn't her own special power, it was something dirty and disgusting that everyone knew about. A shame she couldn't shake off. But she had to try. It was the only thing that worked, the only thing that made her feel whole and alive.
Never before had Rachel felt so afraid as she opened the doors to her wardrobe, the music still blasting in her ears. She pushed aside the small pile of clothing that her box was hidden behind and pulled it out, but she did not feel the immediate sense of calm that usually came with having her blades in her hands. In fact, the nerves and fear just tightened in her stomach, growing worse with each second the feeling didn't come. Then there was the shame.
The feeling only grew worse when Rachel pushed up her dress to reveal her legs. She saw what she had done to herself, the patterns the cut had made, the scars she would have on her body forever and all at once, she couldn't stand the sight of them. She wanted to hide them away until they were gone, she wanted her skin back as it had been, clean and without the words. They were scarred forever on her skin, labels she would never shake. What had once been something so relieving and powerful had become something shameful.
Rachel wanted to scream. She wanted to tear her room apart, to trash something that wasn't herself, because she knew without trying that it wasn't going to work anymore, at least not for a while. The magic had gone, it wasn't a secret and out of the world of illusion she had fallen into, Rachel could see the clear truth of what she had been doing to herself. But it wasn't a feeling of relief. She felt as if her only friend, her only power against all that she struggled with every day was gone. There was nothing now, not even singing had the same effect as her blades.
In a desperate attempt to feel something, Rachel pressed the blade hard into her skin, but rather than feeling the rush of power and release, she only felt shame. She felt as if the eyes of her mother, her fathers, the glee club, Miss Pillsbury and the entire student body were on her, even though she was alone in her room. They were watching her and judging her. She let out a dry sob and cut again, praying for some kind of release, but the shame only increased, the eyes burning deeper into her.
The sound of Poker Face blared into her ears, sounding like nothing but noise amongst her panic. Rachel wrenched the ear phones from her ears, and tossed her i-pod away from her. She could still hear the music faintly from the floor, but it was no longer so deafening, like the taunts of others were screaming in her head rather than the sound of her favourite tunes. And there was another sound. Raised voices right outside her bedroom door, and then it burst open and Leroy burst into the room, his face contorted with anger and was quickly followed by her mother.
Rachel was still holding the blood soaked ice skate blade, her skirt hitched so the scars blazed, visible on her skin.
…
A doof doof moment. Finn's reaction will come at some point in the next few chapters, I know some people are awaiting it. I was really pleased by the amount of reviews for the last chapter, I woke up to Quinn's annoying voice (I really need to change my alarm settings), but cheered up when I saw the amount of emails in the corner of my screen :)