Author's Note: I am amazed by and thankful for the people that have jumped onto this story. Thank you. And my heart goes out to anyone currently going through or who has gone through anything like this.
Oh my God, she's dead! Quinn listened at the bathroom door, though she had no idea what she was listening for. Over the sound of her own thundering heartbeat, she heard Rachel's muffled whimpering. Panic set in, gripping her heart and squeezing as she stood there. She's dying! Rachel is going to die, and there's nothing I can do about it. I can't… I can't… Oh, God, she's dying in there and I don't know what…
Can the hysterics, missy, Quinn thought, suddenly bombarded by her inner Sue Sylvester. Don't want to hear it, don't want to see it. That girl in there needs you, and she only dies if you let her die. Are you going to be a quitter and give up on her? Because I am damn sure she wouldn't give up on you.
Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Quinn ran to the kitchen and started yanking open cabinet drawers. Junk drawer, no. Spatulas and big spoons, no. Straws and take out menus, no. Finally finding the silverware drawer, Quinn yanked out a handful of butter knives and ran back to the locked bathroom door.
Thank God for Frannie and that damned house, Quinn thought as she kneeled down in front of the door handle. Growing up in the Fabray house had very few upsides over the years, but one of the great things about it was the doors. It seemed every door in the house was an old fashioned oaken monstrosity, and each one had its own key to it.
When asked about it, her father had once told her that Alexander Fabray, his great-grandfather who'd had the house built, had been a distrustful old man. Afraid of being robbed, he'd had the house designed so that most of the rooms were a trail of doors to the bedrooms. He then had the doors specially made and keyed so that he could lock up the place at night. The doors were too heavy and reinforced to break down, so anyone attempting to rob him would have to pick each lock individually before moving on to the next room.
Growing up, Frannie had figured out a way to take a series of butter knives and wedge them in the spaces of the doors where the house had settled over the years. By prying the door away from the door frame slowly, she could then maneuver another in between to push the lock back. After getting locked out of her room for a third time one night, Frannie had shown Quinn how to do it. Since, Quinn had become skilled at opening all kinds of locks with different handy tools. She'd figured out how to break into lockers, cars, and pretty much anything else with a lock. Thankfully this door wasn't nearly as complicated as the ones in her own house, and by the third knife she was able to pop the lock back and open the door.
Standing, Quinn pushed open the door to find Rachel shivering, lying in the bathtub with shower curtain thrown open. She looked up at her with frightened, panicked eyes, hands clutched near her chest. Blood was marring the white dress she wore as it poured from her wrists, but Quinn couldn't tell how bad it was yet.
There's so much blood, was Quinn's first thought as she looked down at her in stunned silence. How can someone so little have so much blood? Her heart broke for the girl lying there yet again. How could anyone feel that this was their only option? She didn't understand how unbearably happy, exuberant Rachel Berry had come this far. It didn't make any—
Q! MOVE!, her inner Sue yelled at her again. She rushed to the bathtub and knelt down beside Rachel, reaching out for one of her hands. The bleeding girl only pulled her hands tighter away from Quinn, though. Rachel was crying and afraid, and she looked at Quinn like she didn't know what to do.
"Rachel, sweetie," Quinn said, using her most calming and reassuring voice on the frightened girl. "I have to see how bad it is."
"It hurts," Rachel whimpered pitifully. "I didn't… I didn't think it would hurt so much."
"Shhh… It's okay, sweetie. It's okay," Quinn soothed out. "We're going to get you some help, and everything's going to be okay." She reached out for Rachel's hands again, but the smaller girl wouldn't let her.
"No," Rachel said, trying to slide away from Quinn in the small tub. She was too weak, and the tub was too small, but she tried anyway. "It'll only hurt for a little bit. Then it'll… it'll all be over."
"Rachel," Quinn said, trying not to be impatient with her, but knowing she needed to slow the bleeding as much as possible. The longer she waited, the less likely that… No. Don't even think like that. "You have to let me see—"
"Nooo…" Rachel whined, pulling back. "Just… just let me go. It'll all be okay, Quinn. Really. Everyone will be better off."
"Rachel—" Quinn didn't want to hurt her, but she had to help her. She had to.
"No. I don't want to…"
"Rachel, sweetie—"
"No, Quinn, just go away. Please?"
"Rachel, you have to—"
"No."
"Rachel, we don't have time for—"
"No!"
Without warning, Quinn reached out and slapped the girl in the bathtub, sound echoing off the walls. Rachel looked up at her with wide eyes, wanting to clutch her face but in too much pain to do so. "Goddamn it, Rachel! Stop!" She gave a pathetic whimper, then turned away from Quinn and started sobbing in the bathtub, but at least she wasn't fighting anymore.
Quinn felt horrible, but tried not to think too much about it. It was just something else she could add to the long list of horrible things she'd done to Rachel Berry.
Pulling her hands away from her chest, Quinn was finally able to see the damage Rachel had done to herself and— Oh God, don't throw up. The girl's left wrist was bleeding profusely and it looked like she had sliced through something important and… God, she couldn't look at that anymore. Her right wrist didn't look nearly as bad by comparison, but it was still bleeding far too much.
Out of the corner of her eye, Quinn noted the knife that Rachel had used. She picked it up and tossed it into the farthest corner, because as soon as she had seen it, she couldn't help but notice how there had been blood and… bits… of… Please, God, don't let me pass out. I have to help her.
Reaching to her left, she grabbed the towel off the rack and wrapped it tight around Rachel's left arm. If all those action movies she'd sat through with Puck were true, Quinn knew she needed to keep pressure on the wound and hold it above the heart. She looked around the bathroom for something else for the other arm, then cursed the Berrys' fucking immaculate bathroom. The towel had been the only one. The hand towel was too small. There wasn't even a damn hamper of dirty clothes to use. Cursing again, Quinn shrugged off her sweater and tied it securely around Rachel's right wrist.
"Rachel," she said, but the girl wouldn't look at her. Quinn grabbed her chin gently and turned her face towards her until their eyes met. They looked so dull and lifeless and so unlike Rachel Berry eyes. "Rachel, sweetie, I need you to hold your arms up above your head." To help, she took the towel and sweater in hand and pulled them upwards, extending Rachel's arms above her head. "You have to stay like this as long as you can. I'll be right back."
"You're leaving?" Rachel asked weakly, slurring a little. Oh God, she was running out of time.
"No, sweetie, not leaving," Quinn said, reassuringly, glad Rachel was still keeping her arms up without Quinn's help. "Just have to go make a phone call. Everything's going to be okay."
"Okay," Rachel said. As Quinn was going towards the door, she heard Rachel call out to her. "Quinn. In case I don't… I don't… I just wanted to say I'm sorry."
Quinn was out the door and started running, throwing open the front door as she got to it, and bounding down the steps. Why'd she have to leave her bag in her car? It felt like every second mattered right now. She skidded at her car door and yanked it open, glancing back at the house. She didn't want to leave Rachel alone, just in case she didn't… she didn't… "Not the time," she muttered to herself, pulling her purse from the passenger seat and reaching in for her cell phone. With shaking hands she slid the unlock button and managed to dial 911.
"911, what is the location of your emergency?" the dispatcher asked as Quinn rushed back inside. Rachel was still sitting in the bath tub crying. Her eyes were closed and her arms were down on her chest again.
"1460 Plymouth Street, Lima, Ohio," Quinn said. Rachel looked up as Quinn reentered the bathroom.
"Okay, and what is the nature of your emergency?"
"Um, my friend, she's bleeding. A lot. From her… her wrists." Quinn walked over and tugged on the towel and sweater, getting Rachel to raise her hands again. Thankfully, Rachel complied, but sleepily. Quinn stood there hugging them to her chest to keep them up for her.
"From her wrists? Did she cut herself? On purpose?"
"Um…" Quinn bit her bottom lip, hesitantly. "…yes."
"Okay, and how old is your friend?"
"Seventeen."
"Okay, I'm going to go ahead and send out the paramedics, but I need to ask you some questions, okay?"
"Okay." Quinn went over everything that had happened and that she had noticed since she'd gotten there. Rachel being drunk, the knife, the towel and sweater around her wrists, and how she was holding them up for her. How the towel was turning red much too fast and how Rachel was acting drowsy. How she was so pale. The dispatcher kept her on the line through the few minutes until she heard the sirens, and she thanked her repeatedly, doing her best to keep it together.
Quinn gently set Rachel's arms down, gave her a worried glance, then rushed to the door to meet the paramedics and guide them into the bathroom. They followed her with a stretcher and loaded a now unconscious Rachel onto it, radioing in something to the hospital. One of them asked if she was coming, but she shook her head, saying she needed to make some phone calls. They were gone just a few minutes after they had gotten there, and Quinn stood on the front porch, watching the sirens blaring into the night until they were gone.
As she walked back into the Berry house and closed the door, everything suddenly hit Quinn and she crumpled to the carpet, a choked sob escaping her lips. She had no idea how long she sat there crying, arms circling her knees. She knew it was so long that her butt started to hurt and her lungs were sore. A couple of times she tried to get up and get back to reacting, but that first glimpse of Rachel lying there when she'd come back with her phone would resurface and she'd break down again. In that split second before she'd heard Quinn returning and looked up, it really did look like she was dead. She couldn't be dead. Please, God, don't let her be dead.
After a while, Quinn finally got up, drying her eyes on her sleeve. She went and washed her hands in the kitchen, unable to go back into the bathroom where Rachel had been. She then took some paper towels and cleaned the blood off of her phone, and then washed her hands again.
Going through the living room and up the stairs, she saw a giant cardboard gold star on a door that said "Rachel". Of course her bedroom would be a dressing room. Quinn smiled at that, but it fell when she thought about where the girl was now. Rachel should have been surrounded by her friends on her birthday, not at the hospital. It wasn't fair. How could everyone have missed it? How could Quinn have not cared enough to see how much she must have been hurting?
Opening the door, Quinn took in the room with a smile. She'd seen it in every one of Rachel's videos posted on MySpace, but she'd never noticed how happy it was. How cozy and safe it made her feel. It was like everything good about Rachel's personality had expanded into every corner of the place. She loved Rachel's room. The bright colors of the walls, the lamps, the four poster bed. The playbills and posters on the walls. The shelves full of sheet music. The camera on the tripod. The same camera that had shot the video tonight. And suddenly, she felt like an intruder.
She walked over to Rachel's closet and opened it, flipping through her clothes until she found a suitable top. Hers was now covered in Rachel's blood, and she didn't want to have to answer any questions if she got stopped or something.
Quickly shedding her own top, she stood there for a second, looking at herself in the mirror, clad only in bra and jeans. Her eyes were puffy, and she was pale. She shivered a little in the coolness of the room, and glanced over to the window to see if it was open. It was the same window through which she'd looked in at Rachel.
Quinn felt ashamed of what she'd done, of who she'd been. Had she driven her to this? Was it her fault? She'd tortured the girl for a year and a half and for what? To make her father proud? It was no secret that Russell Fabray hated the Berry family. Why had she ever let that bigot's hatred influence her? It wasn't right. Rachel had done nothing to her to prompt Quinn's hatred besides be herself. Why couldn't Quinn have been herself, too? Was Rachel stronger than Quinn? A better person? Is that why Russell hated the Berrys? For being open and honest and free, despite everyone in this town? Quinn didn't hate Rachel. She hated herself.
She slipped on the borrowed top, thankful that Rachel's sweaters were usually thick enough to take a direct hit from a slushee. Since her sweater was gone and she'd been in such a hurry to leave when she saw the video, this was all she'd have against the cold December night.
Quinn reached down to her phone she'd set on the bed and glanced at the time. 8:34pm. Where was Rachel's father? She thought he would've been home by now. Unlocking the phone again, she called her mom.
"Quinnie, where are you sweetie? Is everything okay?"
"Everything's…. well, it's not fine, but…" How could she even explain everything that had just happened? "I'm at Rachel Berry's house. She's been hurt, and they've taken her to the hospital. Is Sam there?"
"Yeah, honey, he's here, but—"
"Okay, tell him to just go ahead and go home," Quinn said, interrupting her mother. She couldn't handle an interrogation right now. "I'm not going to be able to go to the party tonight. Tell him not to tell anyone about Rachel. And mother, please don't tell anyone, either. I'm going to the hospital to see how she is. I'll call you later."
"Quinnie, I don't think—"
"Love you, mom," Quinn said, then disconnected the call and cut her phone off. Looking over at Rachel's desk, she started shuffling papers around until she found Rachel's own phone. The case was pink and bedazzled. On the back was a large glittering star made of sequins. It was adorable how much it screamed Rachel Berry.
Quinn unlocked the phone and hit the contacts button, scrolling through them. She had every member of the Glee Club, even including Mr. Schuester and Matt who had transferred at the end of last year. She also had one listing for Dad and another listing for Daddy. …And that was it. Sure, she had various takeout places and dance academies and singing instructors, but when it came to actual friends, it looked like she didn't really have any. Just her fathers and Glee. And they had all let her down, Quinn included.
She was about to press the button for "Dad", but decided against it. She didn't know where either of the Mr. Berrys might be, and she wanted to make sure she was at the hospital when they got there. Instead, Quinn pocketed the phone and walked out of Rachel's room and down the stairs. She grabbed her purse from the couch, not remembering at what point it had made it there. She headed out the door, closed it, and then turned to look at it. She contemplated for a second or two going back up to Rachel's room and getting her keys, but decided against it. Instead she just opened it back up, flipped the bottom lock, and then closed it again. There just wasn't time for everything.
Quinn hopped in her car, started it, and sped away from the Berry house. She sped through the dark, praying she wouldn't get pulled over for speeding… or that stop sign she just ran. Damn, it! Thankfully, no one was there. She was able to catch most of the lights on the way to the hospital, and once it was actually in view she pulled Rachel's phone back out of her pocket and dialed Rachel's "Daddy".
He answered on the fourth ring. "Hey, Rachel, baby. How goes the slumber party?" he asked, though he sounded preoccupied. He had a deep voice that could have been scary if it hadn't been laced with such kindness.
"Mr. Berry," Quinn said nervously. "This is Quinn Fabray. I'm umm… a friend… of Rachel's. There's been an… an incident. Rachel's in the hospital. You should get here immediately."
"Oh God," the man said breathlessly, everything in the background stopping. "What happened? Is it serious? Is my baby okay?"
"She's… She kind of… uh…" Quinn sighed. "She's hurt. It's… it's serious, Mr. Berry. She was hurt pretty bad when they took her. I'm just getting here to the hospital myself, so I don't have anything else to tell you." She drove through the parking garage, found a spot, and hopped out. Keys, purse, phone… She pressed the lock button on her car and raced towards the elevator. It was a second before she realized Mr. Berry hadn't responded. "Mr. Berry? Are you still there?"
"Yes, I'm still here," he said wetly. "I just… Okay. Quinn, was it? I'll meet you there." She heard movement in the background and guessed he was leaving wherever he worked. Meanwhile the elevator was being ridiculously slow, so Quinn ignored it and went for the stairs.
"Mr. Berry, umm…." Quinn started. She knew Rachel's dads were getting divorced, but… "Should I call the other Mr. Berry, or…?"
"No, no," he said, more confidently this time. "I will. You just wait for us there in the ER. I'll see you in a bit, okay?"
"Okay," Quinn said, hitting the ground floor and throwing the door open to the cool of the outside air again. She was sweating in Rachel's silly animal sweater. "I'll see you then. Um… bye."
Quinn raced to the ER, waiting impatiently for the half second it took for the automatic doors to open. Once through, she rushed the ER desk where an older black woman sat behind it, reading something. "Rachel Berry!" Quinn panted out, yelling at and startling the nurse. The nurse just looked at her confused before Quinn went on. "I'm looking for Rachel Berry. She was brought in here earlier tonight. On an ambulance. She's short, brunette, Jewish. She had cuts on her… on her wrists." She added the last part in a whisper, not knowing whether that should be something she should share.
"Oh!" the nurse said, comprehension dawning on her. "Are you family or…?"
"I'm her sister," Quinn lied. When the woman looked at her skeptically, Quinn added, "Adopted sister."
"Oh, well…" the nurse said, tapping at the computer in front of her. "She's in surgery right now."
"Surgery?" Quinn asked. "What kind of surgery? What's going on? Is she still… still…" Alive. The word wouldn't come out, and Quinn was mad at herself for being so weak.
"The doctors are working on her now, sweetie," the nurse said, giving her an encouraging smile. "I'm sure she'll be fine."
"Okay," Quinn said, finally letting herself believe that. This woman was a nurse, and an adult, and she had to know better about people pulling through something like this. Right? "Thank you." She started to walk away, but turned back to the nurse. "But… but you'll let me know if anything happens, right?"
"Of course, sweetie."
Quinn walked to the middle of the ER's waiting room and sat down, able to keep an eye on the automatic doors she had come through as well as the swinging doors to the rest of the hospital. She pulled out Rachel's phone and stared at it. 8:57pm. Now it was just a waiting game to see who would come to her first, the doctors or the Berrys.
A short, balding Jewish man with glasses rushed through the automatic doors seven minutes later and went straight to the nurse's desk. "I'm Rachel Berry's father," Quinn heard him say in a panicked voice to the nurse there, much the same as Quinn had done. She suddenly wondered how often ER nurses got yelled at. "My husband told me there's been some kind of accident. Is she okay? Can I see her?"
Quinn heard the nurse relay the information that she'd told her. She also added that his other daughter was already here, and motioned towards Quinn. This Mr. Berry looked confused and turned towards Quinn who was already walking up. She grabbed him by the arm and started pulling him away from the nurse.
"Other daughter?" he asked, clearly confused and panicked. "What's she talking about? Who are you? Where's Rachel? Is she okay? What happened to her?"
"Mr. Berry, I'm Quinn, and I'm—"
"Russell Fabray's daughter," he finished, realization hardening his eyes. "You're the girl that's been bullying my daughter for the past few years. Did you have something to do with this? Did you do something to her?"
"What? No, I… I didn't do this to her, I swear," Quinn said, taking a step backwards. This was what she was afraid of. What she'd been asking herself all night. Did she do this? "I wouldn't do something like this. I've… I've done some bad things to Rachel in the past, I know. I've been horrible to her. I've tortured her, made her life a living hell, and maybe…" a tear trickled down her cheek, and she hurriedly wiped it away… "maybe I helped do this to her. I helped bring her down to this, but I was a stupid kid and I know that's not an excuse, but, I swear, if I had known she would…" Quinn was full on crying again now as Mr. Berry looked on. "I tried to stop her, I swear." She was suddenly pleading with him. "I tried… I tried, but she… she locked the door, and…" And she couldn't talk anymore.
Quinn just stood there in front of him, face in her hands and crying. She hated herself. For this, for being weak, for everything she'd done to Rachel. For her family, for the people she had called friends, for herself. It shouldn't have been happy smiling beautiful Rachel that had done this. It should have been her. "I'm sorry. I tried…"
Arms encircled Quinn and she looked up to see it was Mr. Berry holding her. He was crying along with her. He led them back towards the seats Quinn had come from and sat her down. Behind him, she saw a tall black man come in, looking around the ER waiting room. That had to be the other Mr. Berry. He noticed the two of them and came over. The white Mr. Berry turned and saw him coming over, and a strange look passed over his face. He pulled off his glasses and wiped his eyes. Quinn wiped her eyes on the sleeve of Rachel's borrowed sweater.
Quinn stood as he reached them. "Mr. Berry?" Quinn asked as he approached. "We spoke on the phone. I'm Quinn Fabray." The two misters Berry exchanged a look, and she knew he had to be thinking the same things that the other had just been thinking.
"Please, Quinn," he said. "Call me Leroy. All the 'Mr. Berry's can get confusing."
"Hiram," the other Mr. Berry said simply, waving a hand at himself. "Now, Quinn, please tell us what happened. Start from the beginning."
She did, and by the end, all three were crying again and blaming themselves for Rachel.