AN: This was written with insaneantics, and it couldn't have been done without her. Go on over and check her out, okay?
AN2: This is dark. WAY dark.
Rachel made her way carefully around the 7-Eleven, one hand on the brick wall to keep herself upright, the other trying to adjust her disheveled shirt. She was preoccupied, fumbling with one of the buttons, and didn't notice Puck leaning against the building as she rounded the corner, almost colliding with the mohawked football player.
"Noah! What are you doing here?"
Puck looked her up and down. "I could ask you the same thing, Berry. You look like shit."
Rachel hastily straightened her appearance as best she could, pulling her sleeves down roughly. "Thanks. Really what I needed to hear right now." She gritted her teeth and pulled slim fingers through her hair, trying her best to comb it straight. She felt a hand on her back, and knowing who it was she tensed and straightened.
Puck shrugged. "Whatever. Dude you're with of age? I need some Natty Light."
Rachel rolled her eyes. Of course, why else would Noah Puckerman give a damn? "Jesus, Noah. No, I'm not like you."
"Like me?" he growled. "Nah, I'm not the one sneaking around behind 7-fucking-Eleven with some dude, drunk and probably stoned off my ass, Berry." He turned, preparing to saunter off. "Hope you used a condom. Wouldn't want another Quinn."
Rachel waited until he was out of sight, then turned back to her companion. "God, I hate him so much," she said through tight lips. "Is there any left? My buzz is dead."
The man nodded. "Plenty. Always plenty for you."
Rachel stepped back into the shadows again, holding her hand out. White powder was tapped out onto the back of her hand, and she leaned down to it, breathing in quickly. Sniffing heavily, she wiped off her nose and repeated the process again. "I suppose I'll have to pay you for it…" she trailed off, leaning into the man and kissing along his neck.
He groaned, and pushed Rachel's shoulders, forcing her down to her knees. The sound of a zipper echoed through the alley, and Rachel leaned forward, her nose pressing against denim. As soon as he finished he was gone, just like that, leaving Rachel to wipe her chin and slump along the wall to a sitting position, her short skirt practically around her waist. She watched the man leave, tilted her head back against the wall and could only cry at her situation since she knew she didn't have the time, energy, or the real determination to change it.
Hours later, she woke up in the same position, grateful as always that she hadn't been raped in her stupor, but knowing full well she'd deserve it if she was. She straightened herself more carefully this time, and headed into the store for her daily Red Bulls.