Rachel sat on the edge of the stage, staring at the half-empty baggie. She scooped a little out with her nail, and quickly it disappeared up her nose, followed by another bump, and another.
She felt herself dropping into a blissful dream-like state, reminding her almost of heroin. Distantly, she remembered the baggie, and closed her fist tight, not wanting to drop it in her haze.
She felt her pulse beating hard and fast in her chest, as the images of her day flew past her vision. Pulling herself out of her state, she poured a larger bump out onto her fist, and inhaled deeply, then again, till all the powder on her hand was gone.
She felt her nose begin to run, and she wiped her hand across it, eyes widening as she noticed the blood smeared across her skin.
She flailed, trying to get her body to cooperate, but realized with dismay that while her brain was talking, her limbs weren't listening. Trapped in her body, she watched helplessly as the wall slid into the ceiling, as she fell backwards.
She slowly became aware of her own tears coating her face, Quinn's visage swimming before her. She whispered a prayer to the angel wearing her nemesis' face, and then saw nothing.