Not Like Your Demons Chapter 7
Santana Lopez is known for many a splendored things, but being careful isn't one of them.
Point in fact: if she had just been a little more careful, maybe she would have had dodged the conversation that was bound to happen exactly two seconds from now, as she was too busy scanning the tree, looking for the easiest trek up to notice anything else around.
Including Mr. Fabray entering the open gate with a friend in tow.
"Who on heaven's name are you and what are you doing on my lawn, under my tree?"
It's the man's voice that has her eyes widening in shock; gruff and edgy, and it doesn't sound happy. At all.
The Latina bites her lip guiltily then turns away from the tree slowly, only to be faced by a blonde guy with piercing green eyes and a bespectacled dude with brown, curly hair, who she thinks looks strikingly familiar. The blonde one, who she presumes is Quinn's father, looks about 50, about 5'10" in height and has a scowl that seems permanent. He's looking at Santana with a stern expression, and should he have been staring down a person other than her, he or she would have had been a shaking mess by now.
The other guy, though, is thinner and looks a lot less intimidating. If anything, he almost looked… nervous, and him fidgeting a little on his spot doesn't help his reputation. Santana regards the brown-haired guy for a while and rakes her brain for where she had seen him before. She can't remember, though.
But then again, he has one of those commoner looks, and she must be mistaking him for someone else.
Giving up, she turns her gaze back to the blonde and schools her expression to as suave as she can. "You must be Mr. Fabray," she starts, voice even despite her predicament. "Please allow me to explain."
Instead of answering her, Russell just purses his lips and looks Santana up and down. There's something about the way he's calculating her that irks her, and she prays for patience because she really isn't keen on giving older guys verbal bitch-slaps.
"I'm Santana Lopez; I'm a schoolmate's of Quinn's. I just brought her homework because she's already been missing school for days. She's really smart, and I don't want her to get left behind."
"Isn't that the teacher's job?"
Santana licks her lips, bracing herself. "Yes, but I volunteered, Mr. Fabray."
He nods his head before answering. "Didn't your parents think of teaching you not to trespass on others' properties?"
Despite acknowledging his point, Santana feels herself getting more irritated, and she curls her fists to stop herself from giving this man a not-so-verbal bitch-slap this time. Her parents taught her manners and respect, alright, and in fact that's the very same thing that's stopping her from castrating this blond dinosaur. How dare he speak ill of her parents? Sure her papi and mami aren't perfect and her papi acts like the biggest idiot at times, but this blonde bloke has no right to judge them. "I'm sorry if that's what I made you think, Mr. Fabray, but I believe my parents raised me in the best ways they could. I swear I have no bad intentions."
"I was just kidding," Russell says, although nothing in his face reflects even a tiny spectacle of humor. "Although you shouldn't have had just went in. I might have had mistaken you for a crook and had you arrested."
As irritated as she may be, Santana knows where she's wrong, and makes no point in denying it now. "I'm really sorry for that."
Russell just nods again, the same annoying egoistic expression written on his face. "Especially since it's not hard to mistake you as criminals, the American pretenders that you are."
Santana feels her cheeks heat up, definitely not with embarrassment. Gritting her teeth and trying her best not to beat him up then and there, she asks, "Excuse me?"
"Sorry, really bad sense of humor. Especially since I just had a bad lunch."
Santana's jaw clenches, but she manages to muster a polite nod. He wants to send this guy to a hospital, but it wouldn't do her any good. Especially since she has a goal here somewhere.
"Uhm. Can I please see Quinn? I just - I need to tell her something."
"There's no one inside. The girl's sick, if you don't know yet. Her mom brought her to a clinic."
"May I know which clinic?"
"I forgot the name," Russell answers.
So, the son of a b*tch really doesn't care. She knows she's getting nowhere except the road to violence if she keeps on talking to him. "Are you sure no one's inside, Mr. Fabray?"
"Why wouldn't I? It's my house."
"But I heard something. A crash or whatever."
Russell groans exasperatedly. "Grubbers," he says. "Stupid cat."
Santana nods. She glances at the thinner guy again, tries to rake her memories again, then fails. Licking her lip, she looks back at Russell. "I left her schoolwork on the foyer. Will you please hand them to her?"
Russell stares at where Santana is pointing and gives her an almost undecipherable nod.
"OK. Thank you, Mr. Fabray. I'll go now. Please tell your daughter I passed by."
Nodding to acknowledge them before she leaves, she passes by the older guys, pursing her lips all the while. There's more that she wants to say, something she needs to Quinn. And even if she's not sure whether or not she can stand by what she's going to say in the future, but Quinn deserves to know that she's really sorry, if it can help ease the guilt she made the blonde feel – like what Brittany said – unfairly.
She almost decides to chicken out, but in an unparalled level of will, she musters the courage to turn around. Mr. Fabray may be her least favorite person at this moment, but he's all she has, and she knows a simple note to Quinn wouldn't suffice.
"And Mr. Fabray?"
"Yes?"
"Well, uhm… This is kind of awkward, and please don't ask me why, but please tell her I'm really sorry. And I guess I'll have to apologize to you, too, with you being her dad and all. Tell her she didn't do anything wrong. I think your daughter really needs to know that."
Mr. Fabray's brown furrowed, as if curious, but he quickly schools his expression into something more neutral. "OK. I don't know what's it that you kids are going through, but I guess it wouldn't hurt me."
"Thanks, Mr. Fabray."
/
Leon Evans walks a little bit behind Russell as the latter turns open the doorknob of one of the rooms on the second floor of the Fabray house. Even just by watching the way the blonde man walks, the former doctor can tell that Russell is obviously the kind of person who wants every single one of his wishes answered, no matter what the cost.
The room feels eerily confining even upon his first step inside – and it may be due to the fact that the steel windows are barred, and only the sole fluorescent light gives the room illumination.
Or it may be because of the company he has.
He doesn't get much time to look around because Russell's already shouting at Judy and his attention is drawn to that. He can't seem to look away even if that is the proper to do right now.
"How fucking useless could you get? Do you have some daily idiocy goal or what," Russell is yelling, gesturing at the remaining broken pieces of what used to be a glass on the floor, breathing angrily.
His wife is on-fours, terrified, picking up the shards with her bare hands. "I'm sorry, Russell, I didn't mean to b-break it. T-the doorbell j-just triggered my n-nerves. I s-swear I didn't mean to…"
Russell finishes the statement for her. "You swear you didn't mean to think? I know that! Why else would your daughter be an idiot? It's because she got it from you! God knows she can't get that from me!"
Judy flinches at his words. "I-I'm sorry, Russell."
Russell just takes a deep breath and pokes at Judy's head harshly. The woman almost falls on the glass shards on the floor if she wasn't fast enough to use her elbow as leverage. Leon moves forward to interfere but Russell stops him with a palm. "I got this, Leon. I know what to do," he says. "I know how to discipline my women so don't you dare bother."
He doesn't, clearly, Leon can tell, but he decides to just stay put. He doesn't want to make this worse.
"You really can't do anything right," Russell snarls at Judy once more. "This better not happen again, because you know the consequences, do you understand me, woman?"
Judy swallows and tries to answer through her tears. "Y-yes, R-Russell."
Russell scoffs, before turning to Leon. "I'm sorry about that. The people occupying this house with me are insufferable as hell."
Leon just nods again. He watches as Judy gets up shakily to take the large shards she gathered to the bathroom.
Russell follow Judy's movement with disdain before looking at Leon. "Just don't mind them, and you'll be fine. I'll leave you here. I really can't stand being with that kid in a room for a long time. You'll understand me when you get to know her. Call me if you need anything. I'll be downstairs."
"Of course," Leon answers, trying his best to look like he's not a little taken aback with how his friend talks about his own daughter.
He watches Russell's back as the latter walks out. Once the door is closed again, he steps close to the young blonde's bed and gauges her appearance. She seems pained and disturbed even in her sleep.
"I'm Leon. Russell asked me to check on your daughter. How long has she been asleep," he asks, eyeing Judy, who just got back from the restroom.
Judy stares at him with wide eyes, mostly shocked but relieved as well. "S-she slept from morning until this afternoon. She woke up a few minutes ago but she just went back to sleep. She seems…she seems too tired. Is that- Will she- What does that mean," she stutters.
Leon just gives her a little nod, before placing a palm over Quinn's forehead. He couldn't help but shake his head at the heat. This girl should be nowhere else but in the hospital right now.
He takes a thermometer and places it between his patient's slightly-parted lips then looks at Judy, trying to make his face look even to calm her down. The poor woman's hands are shaking slightly, no matter how she's obviously trying to control them.
"Her temperature's too high. Exhaustion is usual in fevers as high as hers. We'll have to wash her with ice cold water to help cool her down. How long has she been with the fever?"
"I-it's the third day."
He nods once again. Third day. He takes his eyes off Judy to once again observe the young girl lying helplessly on the bed. She's so pale, and thin, and her skin's dry. It's obvious that she's not getting the nutrition that she needs. The dryness of the skin indicates dehydration, and he knows it's the first thing he should work on once he finishes asking for the basics.
He opens Quinn's left eye and examines the inner flesh on the lower lid. It's too whitish for his liking. This could signify that she's anemic, too.
Well, judging by her physique, there could be a lot of things wrong with her and he needs the proper equipment, but that can't be done considering Russell's conditions.
He faces Judy once again. "When was her last checkup? Does she have any medical condition? Allergies? Heart ailments? Anemia?"
"I-Her last checkup was years ago," Judy answers, face ashamed. "She has asthma…and she's allergic to crustaceans and peanuts."
The former doctor nods. "Does she complain of getting tired all the time even without the fever?"
Judy glances at Quinn, swallows thoughtfully, then turns back to him. "No, Quinn d-doesn't complain."
He nods again. "Complain, doesn't," he says slowly and encouragingly. "But does she get tired easily? Based on your observations?"
It takes a while for Judy to answer, obviously raking her memory for signs. "I-I don't know," she answers. "God, I-I don't know," she repeats, despair painting her beautiful yet drained features.
"It's OK," he pacifies her, now truly feeling sorry for the sick girl as he watches the weak rise and fall of her chest. He can tell that Judy means well, but Quinn needs so much more than the help her only caring parent is giving her. Not that she can blame the woman, it's obvious that she's a victim here, too. Russell is verbally abusive towards her, and Leon doesn't even want to begin thinking about what's happening inside the Fabray household on an ordinary day.
But it's not his problem, he tells himself resolutely, and he's only here to earn money, which is extremely difficult now, for his family. Nothing should be taken personally. He was once a doctor, after all, so he's an expert at not letting feelings get involved in the line of duty.
He was dismissed from service from a stupid malpractice a year prior, and practically, he is nothing now. His savings had been exhausted for house expenses for the last year. Nora, his wife, is without a job, and the tarnish in his reputation made finding a new job for himself difficult. His eldest, Sam, had stopped schooling to help for the family expenses, and the five of them in the family, including twins Stevie and Stacy, both six, are living together in a single motel room.
Life is difficult, and Russell is offering him a hefty sum, enough to support his family for a month at least. It's what he can get, it's what he'll take.
And he owes Russell his life, literally, and without him, Leon would have long been gone by now.
Also, they are in the same church, and although he personally thinks that there's something gravely wrong within this household, Russell is known around as a man of virtue, and whatever the reason behind him not wanting his daughter to be brought to a hospital couldn't be that awful.
Or so he hopes.
"But I think she's been…getting a lot of asthma attacks," Judy says suddenly, and he just nods at the woman again. That could be a sign of anemia. He makes a mental note to add iron-fortified vitamins in his list of medical supplies to buy just to be sure.
"She's dehydrated. We need to place her on I.V."
Judy stares at him worriedly. "I-I.V.? Wouldn't we have to bring her to a hospital for that?"
"Well, technically yes. But Russell wants to have her medicated here, so we'll have to do it here. That's possible, too," he says, remembering the rest of Russell's rules. The blonde is the kind of man who's beyond firm on his religious beliefs. He says no one should look at his daughter's body so the hospital is a no-no. Even Leon is prohibited to look under Quinn's shirt. Any medical activity that needs Quinn undressed will have to be performed by Judy. "I can administer an I.V. for her. I have close ties with somebody from the pharmacy downtown and she can supply us with the things we need. Don't worry, Mrs. Fabray, I'll make sure your daughter will be fine."
Judy couldn't look more relieved than she looked after that. "Please do. Quinn has been so sick since this morning. I-it's really scary."
"I'll do the best I can, Mrs. Fabray."
And he will. That's the least he can do. He hopes all goes well for this girl.
He also hopes that Santana kid doesn't recognize him.
/
Judy wipes at her eyes again as she keeps a close watch on her daughter's disturbed sleeping face. Her throat is raw from crying too much since last night, but she can't find it in her to stop. Especially since she knows that Quinn suffers exponentially greater.
She feels like crying is one of the most natural things in her life. She has been doing it for countless times today. Hell, she's been doing it for countless times during her existence.
She can't complain, though – it's the kind of life a sinful, worthless woman like her deserves. And even if her daughter doesn't deserve her own, Judy has long ago resigned to the fact that this is the life they are meant to have.
Dr. Evans has left a while ago to purchase Quinn's medical supplies. While he was gone, Judy wiped Quinn's body with iced water and helped her change her shirt, as what she has been instructed to. Quinn fell asleep shortly afterward; she really can't stay awake for long.
Needless to say, Judy has been more than shocked when Russell brought a doctor home for Quinn. Never had she thought he has it in him. But even more than the shock was the relief in knowing that Quinn will be looked at, medically at least. Quinn's too sick and she's more than positive her daughter wouldn't heal on her efforts alone. Besides, Judy knows little to nothing about medicines.
The moment Leon comes into Quinn's room for the second time that day, Judy hurriedly stands up from Quinn's bedside and ushers the man inside.
"Did you have her wiped with iced water," he asks as he places the supplies he gathered from the pharmacy. He has also brought the coat rack from the living room, and Judy silently wonders what that is for.
"Yes," Judy answers. "I checked her temperature; it went down a little."
"That's good," he says. "Do that at least three times a day and she'll get through her fever faster."
Judy nods dumbly then continues watching as Leon rummages through the bag of medical supplies. He takes out an I.V. bag and some tube, then addresses Judy once more.
"I'm going to place the I.V. needle in her wrist, but I have to leave after this. Russell ordered me not to stay too long. I'll teach you how to change the I.V. bag. I brought six. It would be more than enough to cover for today and tomorrow. I'll come back Monday morning to take it out or purchase more if needs be."
"B-but I don't know-" Judy says nervously.
"Changing I.V. bags is easy, don't worry," Leon reassures her. "Once the needle is placed, all you have to do is remove the tube that connects to the I.V. bag then replace the bag with another. I'll show it to you later. I wish I could stay because that's what's necessary, but Russell doesn't want me to. I'll leave you my number so you can call me if you need anything or you have any questions."
Not knowing how to respond to that, Judy nods dumbly at him again. She can do this, she'll have to, if it means helping Quinn get over her illness.
It's time she does something for her daughter for once.
She follows Leon with her eyes as the man walks over to Quinn's bed, carrying the coat's rack then placing it next to the bed. He notices Judy's confused and nervous look so he explains for her.
"We'll need to keep the I.V. bag elevated to make sure the fluid goes down and through her veins. We can hang the I.V. bag in this rack."
"Oh."
After having everything set up, Leon takes Quinn's left hand so he could look for a vein to prick the needle in. Quinn stirs at the first touch and Judy feels every bit of her senses perk up. When Quinn whimpers, brows opening weakly, Judy practically jumps from her seat to stand beside Leon.
Quinn's eyes sees the unfamiliar man first, though, and Judy's heart pounds as she sees terror swiftly creep to Quinn's eyes like spilled water does to the pavement.
"M-mama," she mutters, eyes searching for Judy blindly. Judy was quick to palm Quinn's cheeks so her daughter can focus her lost eyes on her.
"Shhh… I'm here sweetheart. Don't be scared. This is a friend. His name's Leon. He's a doctor and he's here to help you get better."
Instead of being reassured, Quinn seems to panic further as she tries to sit up, not even wincing. "D-doctor? But f-father…"
Judy pushes Quinn down gently and takes her shaking hand in hers. The 'There shouldn't be no doctor' rule has been long ago drilled in her head.
"Don't worry. Your father knows he's here."
Quinn's pants get more panicked as she looks at Judy, tears now gathering in her shaken eyes. Leon watches the interaction, a little stunned. "F-father k-knows? M-mama?"
Whispering hushing tones, Judy combs through Quinn's hair in a comforting manner. "Shh… It's fine, baby."
"But I-I'm OK, mama. I d-don't need a doctor."
"Shhh. Sweetheart, you need to heal. Believe mama when she says it's OK." Well, the last time she said that, Quinn got beaten up, but this time she feels it'll be OK. "This time, I really promise it's OK." A tear falls down Quinn's frail face and Judy wipes it away with her thumb. "Russell's the one who brought the doctor here. He just wants you to get better. It's OK."
"He does? You promise?"
"I promise."
"O-OK, mama."
Leon takes that moment to interfere. "Hi Quinn. I'm Leon, your father's friend. I'm going to place you on this medicine," he explains, gesturing at the I.V. bag. Quinn watches his nose anxiously, nodding a little. "It has to go through this tube," he motions at the tube, "right to a vein in your arm. So that means I have to get this little needle through your skin. It's going to hurt a little, OK?"
Quinn chest heaves heavily at that as she looks over at Judy, looking like she's about to cry in fear again. The doctor has no idea what 'hurting' means for her daughter.
"Only a little, Quinnie. Just a prick. You probably wouldn't even feel it," Judy tells her.
Quinn seems really, really hesitant, but she nods at her mom. She goes rigid as Leon takes her hand, but only winces a little as the doctor puts the needle in. That's not even close to pain at Quinn's scale – Judy thinks sadly. Leon watches Quinn's thin, pale face closely, watching for signs of freaking out.
Quinn gasps when her blood is suctioned out as the needle goes in, but only for a millisecond, before it's being suctioned in again.
"Oh," she exclaims softly as the soft drips of the I.V. is heard, and a funny sensation flows through her wrist.
Leon does a few more preparations to get Quinn settled. Judy watches, a little amused, as Quinn silently follows the doctor's movements with curious wonder. There's fear there, too, but even more than that, is her daughter's plain curiosity. She glances at the tubes in her hand then follows the length of the tube all the way to the I.V. bag, studying them confusedly. They're all new to her. Quinn's been admitted at the hospital when she was three, and she was placed on I.V. too, but Judy's sure she barely remembers.
"There. All set," Leon says after a while, smiling at Judy. The woman doesn't take her eyes off Quinn who at that moment starts picking at her I.V.-ed wrist like a little kid. Judy puts her hand over the wrist, telling Quinn to be careful and not fiddle with it silently. Quinn looks down at her lap and blushes bashfully.
Leon shows Judy how to change the I.V. bag and leaves her with a few more instructions, before he takes his things to go back to his own home.
"Just let her take the medicines I brought her on schedule and make sure that the bag isn't left empty or it'll suction her blood out instead."
Judy glances at Quinn, who's watching them silently from the bed now, before looking at Leon, sure that the pleading in her eyes is apparent. "But I'm not sure-"
"You have my number. Don't worry. Just do my instructions and she'll be fine."
Judy nods at him, and he returns the act with a pat on the woman's shoulder. He tries to ignore Judy's slight flinch, then walks to the door. Before the door closes behind him, he faces Judy as he seems to remember one more thing.
"And Judy?"
"Yes?"
"If there's one thing I've learned while practicing my profession, it's the fact that gentle touches help. Let her know you're there; I've witnessed it work with a lot of my patients."
Judy nods. "O-OK."
Well that, she'll eagerly do.
/
Thankfully, Quinn's fever went down on Sunday and it finally broke Monday morning. Leon went back Monday to take the I.V. off and supply Judy with more medicines and vitamins. Through Judy's pleading, Russell let Quinn stay home Tuesday and Wednesday to allow her body to recuperate. Judy is extremely grateful for the fact that Russell took it to himself to be easy on Quinn while she's sick. Not once did he lay a hand on her during Quinn's ordeal with the fever.
The only problem was the insults and quips on Quinn being a burden remained, with Russell choosing Quinn's waking moments to open up conversations on how much Quinn's 'weakness' is costing him. It made it harder for Judy to get her to eat at t. Quinn felt like she needed to repay her father for the doctor's fees by not having her own share of food. It's the only way she knows how to repay him.
Quinn finally looked like she's ready for school today, Wednesday. Her illness had obviously taken its toll on her, though, because she's gotten even thinner which Judy didn't think was possible, and her eyes are still sunken slightly.
Right now, she's on the couch, sitting anxiously, trying not to watch as Judy and Russell eat. She can't join them unless her father tells her to. She didn't eat last night, too, and Judy is desperately wishing for Russell to allow her food. Her fever might come back – in her state it isn't far from happening – and that's the last thing Judy wants.
As if somebody up there's really listening up there, Russell speaks up after a while.
"You can sit here now," he says, making Quinn jump up impulsively. She has to follow Russell's orders as fast as she can or else… Despite looking terribly shaken, she quietly walks towards the table and sits down on her designated spot.
"Eat," he orders, prompting Quinn to reach for some bread and cheese on the table. There's bacon and ham, too, but she's only permitted to get some if her father asks her to. "Don't want you getting sick again. You're becoming more of a garbage and an inconvenience at that state. Pull a stunt like that again and I'll make sure you'll be bedridden forever."
Quinn's face pales. "S-sorry."
"Whatever," he dismisses. "And I don't want you associating with that faggots' spawn again, do you understand me," adds Russell, making Quinn's hands start to shake. Judy feels the tension rise quickly, and she tightens her grip on her spoon and fork.
"Y-yes, s-sir."
"And what has gotten into you, thinking you could be friends with anyone," he laughs insultingly and Quinn's eyes fall further. "I'm pretty sure she's regretting spending time with you now. Don't you have an ounce of shame, flaunting your stupidity and ignorance like that? A few months out and you're already giving this family too much to be ashamed of."
Quinn whimpers at that and Judy wishes she could wrap her daughter up in her arms and tell Russell to back off. But that's not happening. She'd never be able to scare Russell off. All that would do is add up to Quinn's punishments.
"Have you also been desperately wanting to be friends with that disgusting Latina girl? Look at me, and don't lie, I know everything."
Judy looks at Russell confusedly. Who's this Latina girl he's talking about? How did he get that idea?
Was it her who brought Quinn's schoolwork the other day? Did Russell talk to her? Does she know anything?
Quinn shakily meets Russell's eyes. "W-we're not f-friends, Sir."
Russell looks at her with a drowning amount of judgment, and Judy feels Quinn shrink some more. "That doesn't surprise me, he says with a smirk. "But then, just make sure. You know punishments are severe to those who lie."
Quinn swallows nervously before answering. "Y-yes, Sir."
Russell just smiles self-righteously then continues eating. He doesn't ask Quinn to have any of the meat and eats them all off instead. And just like most days, he drags Judy to their room before Quinn is done eating, telling her to 'get your face lost before we come back down' as he pulls Judy away.
He doesn't hand Quinn her lunch money again.
/
The one thing Quinn liked about walking to school every morning is that she's just…walking. There's nothing to worry about, not until she reaches her destination at least. It's like a timeout – a special space where she can stop thinking about how she's not liked where she just came from or where she's going to.
If she's walking, it's just her. And the dust under her feet. And the leaves over her head. It's just her and the sunlight making her skin feel funny. There's no one there to see if she messes up. No one will hurt her. She likes it.
She watches with a small smile the dust that form pale smoky wisps as she takes every step. She wonders how it is to be like the dust. To be anywhere. Free. To be created in a way that you wouldn't feel hurt even if you're getting stepped on. To be small enough to not get noticed. To be not noticed enough to not get hurt.
She wonders if there are people there who wants to become dust, too. Maybe not. Maybe it's only her. No one could be as weird as her, surely.
She sighs. Looking around, she spots a little golden butterfly resting on a small leaf just by her right. It's placed low, low enough for Quinn to be able to touch the winged creature, and it takes every single bit of her self-control not to touch it or else she'll scare the poor thing away. Instead, she just watches with a small smile as the sunlight hits the butterfly's wings, reflecting on the leaf below it with a beautiful light.
It's really pretty.
Just like Rachel's smile.
Blushing, Quinn bows down her head even if no one can see her. She doesn't understand the funny feeling she gets when she remembers Rachel. She was so nice to Quinn when she was sick and Quinn longs to feel Rachel taking care of her again. Even if it's close to impossible.
She remembers Rachel and remembers nice eyes. And nice hair. And weird but nice nose. And her teeth when she lets out that nice smile.
That nice smile.
She realizes she wants to see Rachel's smile. Always. Like, today, maybe.
Smiling a little to herself, she wonders if the Cheerios are practicing right now. Are Rachel and Brittany at school? Are they excited to see Quinn like Quinn is excited to see them? Did they mean it when they said they wanted to be her friend? Will they talk to her?
She really wishes they would. If they talk to her, maybe the other kids at school will realize that she's not that much of a freak (even if she knows she is) and they'll stop being as mean as they are to her right now.
She knows her father doesn't want her being friends with Rachel and just thinking about that brings this crippling cold feeling to her whole body, making her shiver. He'd punish her severely if he knows. But she really wants to be friends with her – and Brittany – and she figures it'd be worth any punishment if it means she can get to have the chance to spend time with them. They're both really sweet, and gives Quinn this warm feeling she's longing for every day. It's nice.
Soon enough, the butterfly leaves the leaf to be somewhere else. Quinn follows it sadly (wishing she could fly, too) until it's too far to see and sighs as she continues walking to school.
She starts walking slowly when she nears her favorite house again. It's probably one of the biggest houses in Lima – or at least the parts of Lima that Quinn has been. Looking around first, she makes sure no one can see her before stopping by the fence. It has pretty fences and a pretty gate, the wall has a pretty color and there are beautiful flowers around, but they're not why she likes it.
She likes it because she discovered two weeks ago that every morning, at this time approximately, a girl, who seems like her age, walks out of the big house to walk two little dogs around the spacious lawn. Quinn has never had a dog (no matter how much she wants one), and every time she's passing by this house, Quinn would peek through a space between the fence to watch the little dogs walk behind their master. Quinn has never seen anything more adorable than them. They look the same – small and hairy – except that one has brown hair as opposed to the other's gold. They're too hairy that she couldn't see their eyes, and Quinn always giggles to herself every time she thinks about how they can see their surroundings with that much hair.
Right now, Quinn nervously hovers on the other side of the fence until finally, the blonde girl, who's always wearing a dress, steps out of the main door, the two lovely creatures in tow.
Quinn takes a deep breath when her eyes catch sight of them, her palm unconsciously finding a space against the fence.
They're as lovely as always, four little feet moving swiftly to keep up with their master. They're mouths are open excitedly, obviously enjoying the outdoors.
She longs to touch them so much. Their fur must be soft – softer than Frankie's and White Rabbit's even – just like what's described in the book. She wonders if they'd like Quinn's hands, if they'd react if Quinn touches them. Maybe they will. She really wants to know, even if it's not happening.
She keeps her breaths as silent as she can, despite how excited she is. She knows watching stealthily is a sin, and she can't let them see her. She doesn't want more people hating her, she doesn't need more people beating her up.
For now, she's just content with watching them from a distance. She smiles at herself – for now it's perfect.
Or it was – until the owner's eyes catch a glimpse of Quinn and her head turns swiftly so she could watch through the gap in the fence.
Right into Quinn's eyes.
Eyes widening in fear, she steps back with a start, mouth forming a gentle 'o', almost losing her balance.
She has been seen.
Her heart starts pounding violently, eyes heating up with fear as she dazedly takes more steps backward. Away from the dogs, because she has to. Her ears feel heavy, and she couldn't hear anything.
Not even the car that almost hit her. Or the pet owner's curious tone saying 'Hey, wait!'
Only when the car's driver opens his window to yell at her to be more careful next time is she shaken out of her state. Her terror intensified (the driver seems angry), she starts bolting away, praying desperately that the driver will not go after her and punish her for being careless. Being careless is a grave offense.
She slows her pace a few miles away, panting a little and she bends over to give her lungs some time to recuperate.
Closing her eyes tightly, trying to control her uneven pants, she berates herself for not being quiet enough. For being careless. Now the dog's owner is probably mad. Does she recognize her? Will she have Quinn arrested or punished?
She doesn't want to know.
Maybe she shouldn't pass by that house again. The owner would be suspicious by now and be more alert.
She just really, really, really wants to watch the dogs, though. She doesn't mean anyone bad. Maybe she'd just let a few days pass before passing by the house again? The owner would forget it, right?
Deciding to calm her mind, Quinn just decides to resume walking, heart breaking over the fact that she might not get the chance to see the little dogs again.
/
Jesse St. James is the Cheerios' main male player. He is Rachel's counterpart – the 'King Bee' if you may. In other schools, it may be customary that the head cheerleader and quarterback are the automatic royalties, but in McKinley High, it's different. The football team at the school sucks like a baby (add that to the fact that quarterback Finnessa Hudson is as intimidating as a dying elephant), and the Cheerios are the school's most prized team since God knows when.
The jocks are still being feared by the bullied, of course, but they are secondary to the Cheerios and all the orders still come from Sue's Squad of Shining and Shimmering Stars.
Under Sue's training, the Cheerios never experienced a single loss. Rachel and Jesse's tandem is unstoppable as well, not only because they are very gifted dancers, but also because they are two hells of singers. Jesse's strong tenor is the perfect match for Rachel's perfect-pitch soprano, and the Cheerios is the only Cheerleading team in Ohio whose leads sing live during performances, adding boost to the already sure-win choreographies.
And that's besides the fact that they have undeniable chemistry. Watching them sing together is synonymous to watching a sickening Broadway show, Santana describes. Coming from the girl, it's a compliment that needs to be written in a book.
Needless to say, when Jesse and Rachel started dating a few months ago, the school's power couple was established automatically.
Right now, Rachel is power-walking through the hallways to get to her locker, just like what she does after each Cheerio practice to meet Jesse.
A smile automatically reaches her lips once she sees the male Cheerio leaning on her locker, waiting for her. When she approaches him, he automatically leans forward to give her a peck on the lips.
When their lips part, Rachel's chocolate-colored eyes are automatically drawn to his darker ones.
Something is different with the way Jesse is staring at her, though, and an uneasy feeling settles on her stomach for reasons she doesn't know.
She looks at him with slightly creased brows. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing, babe," he starts. "It's just that… Well… A funny thing happened this morning."
Rachel's brows furrow further. She's both confused and curious. In Jesse's book, funny could mean a lot of things. "Really? What is it?"
"Well, there are no pictures or anything but Jewfro's been claiming that he has seen you get in your car with the freak last Wednesday. He posted it in his blog last night. I mean, it's so funny and unbelievable that I just stood their stunned for a few seconds when I heard, trying to digest what can't be digested. Like come on. You, associating with a freak?"
Rachel feels her heart slowly pound in time with her ears heating up. Oh no. Fricking Jacob Ben Israel. She's going to cut all of his fingers off when she gets a hold of him. This can't be happening yet. Not now of all time. She's not ready for this. "W-what?"
Jesse watches her face curiously, one of his eyes in slits. "Did you just stutter?"
Rachel feels like punching herself in the face. Geez, why did she have to stutter? Now Jesse will think she really associated with Quinn (even if that's the fact). Steadying herself, Rachel answers, "Not really. Your question just confuses me is all. What are you talking about? I mean, which freak?"
Seemingly a little more relieved, Jesse takes in a breath and anwers, "Ah, you know, the major one. Messy blonde hair, weird glasses, reads three books a day, doesn't keep eye contact, looks at you like you'll burn her all the time, so on and so forth."
"Q-," she catches herself just in time. "Fabray?"
Jesse nods unsurely. "Yeah. I guess that's what her name is."
Rachel licks her lips as she looks Jesse in the eye, her mind going on overdrive. What will she say? Should she tell him? Can she trust him to keep a secret? For the meantime, at the very least. She can't keep her friendship with Quinn a secret forever. She doesn't want to hurt the blonde.
Maybe she can convince Jesse not to tell anyone. It's one less person to keep a secret from. It could lessen the weight on her chest. Jesse may be a diva and a spoiled brat (or whatever you call a guy who's diva-ish and spoiled), but maybe she really can tell him. He'd keep it to himself if that could mean they can keep their reputation.
Besides, and more importantly, he really loves her, right? Surely, he can accept her decision?
Bracing herself, and after a really brief introspection, she decides it wouldn't hurt. Not much, at least. Besides, Jesse's still her boyfriend, and it would be extremely unhealthy for their relationship if she chooses to lie.
Before she can say anything though, she catches Jesse's eyes dart briefly towards somewhere behind her. Brows furrowed, she subtly turns her head around and her breath hitches when she sees Melissa Tobin and a few of her 'friends' from the Cheerios behind her.
They're listening. They're fricking listening.
Apparently, the news has reached them too, and now, they want to know the truth straight from her as well. Rachel feels her chest tighten uncomfortably, each of her little reasons to tell Jesse weathering away, fear gripping her entire being swiftly.
She pushes down the strange thought that this is all a setup, and Jesse could be part of this setup, because a more important thing is in play right now.
What will she say? In front of all of them? What will happen?
But the real question is: Is she ready for what will happen if she tells the truth?
She hears Jesse clear his throat, distracting her effectively, and she looks back at him. By the corner of her eyes, she sees Santana round the corner behind Jesse just at that moment. Her second-in-command seems taken aback at seeing everyone there and she looks over at the two of them swiftly before proceeding to her own locker, opening it like she's not bothered by anything. Rachel can tell that the Latina has her senses on high alert, though, and despite the fact that she's been ignoring her for the past few days, she's oddly a little bit comforted by that fact.
"So what? Are you really associating with that freak," Jesse asks again, and she catches Santana's breath hitch at that. It was so subtle, and probably no one else in the hallway noticed, but Rachel did, and she knows her friend too well to know that Santana's heart is pounding just as hard as hers right now.
Then Jesse's question registers in her head once again and she can feel her insides churn uncomfortably. All eyes are on her now; she can practically feel every questioning, judging glare permeating through her system.
"Yeah, like that can even happen in a dream," she says before it even registers, trying to ignore the coldness that suddenly spreads from her chest at the awful lie. Santana finally looks over at her then, unhidden worry written all over her face, and Rachel shakily meets the Latina's orbs for a brief moment before glancing at her boyfriend's again. She feels a bit of concern at Jesse's gaze, too, but nothing could make her feel a little bit bad about herself at this time.
"Well, that's cool then," Jesse answers, smiling that charming grin. "I knew that; I just wanted to be sure."
"You didn't have to ask. You should have known the answer already."
"Well, I hope that's clear now," Jesse says, and Rachel thinks he's addressing everyone with that. She can't be sure, though – she's still a little dazed. "So, I have to go now. Coach wants to see me. I'll see you later, babe."
She nods dumbly at him, too numb to react to the kiss he leaves on her cheek.
She feels more than hears Jesse and the crowd disperse behind her, feeling really terrible about herself. She knows she did what's rational in her state, and she's just protecting Quinn in the long run, but her pounding heart says otherwise. Feeling a little light-headed as she feels like nothing and everything – everything – at the same time, she closes her eyes tightly, praying desperately for guidance.
When she opens them again, the first thing she sees is Santana walking towards her, concern apparent on her face. Not wanting to talk to anyone right now – including her best friend, she raises her palm and mouths a stern 'Don't'. Santana knows enough to stay away.
Rachel hugs her books tightly to her chest as she walks along the hallway to their classroom.
She'll find the best solution for this. All of this. She just needs time.
/
But time isn't given to her, and it seems like good fate is really not hers today because as she rounds the corner that lunchtime to head for the cafeteria, Quinn's there. Fresh from her four-day absence. Standing meekly as always. Looking just as shy and delicate as ever, making Rachel's heart feel all the more heavy. And it's too late to turn the other way because Quinn has already seen her, bespectacled hazel eyes searching waveringly at Rachel's with that constant nervous quality that grabs at the brunette's heart oh so easily.
She wishes she could disappear right at this instant. Which should be funny, because she's Rachel Berry – the strong one, the queen of the school, the one who sends all the orders – and it takes just one look from Quinn – frail, fragile Quinn, the supposed loser, the one she just betrayed, the one she'd probably be betraying more in the future – makes her feel like she just lost every little bit of the power that she has.
Why wasn't she informed that the blonde was back? But even more than that, why didn't she find a way to know? She didn't even check on how Quinn was doing, darn it.
And just when she thinks nothing could go more wrong, she sees someone move in the corner, a few feet behind Quinn. She catches a glimpse of the familiar uniform, the same with what she's wearing, which she realizes she hates now more than ever, and her chest heats up once more. She catches Melissa's eyes – cruel, expectant, proud – ready to watch their leader become the leader that she's supposed to be.
The leader who'd have to make sure that status quo is preserved, that the balance remains. The leader who'd have to show the losers that they have no place in the 'top' spot with the 'top' people, because what would that do to the 'social scale' when equal power is given to all?
They've heard the truth from her words earlier, now they want proof from her actions.
Quinn's eyes find the floor sometime during her musings, but now she's looking at Rachel shakily again, anxious face open, lips pursed shyly. She looks painfully unsure of what will happen, too, and Rachel has never – ever – wanted to turn around and be everywhere else and not experience anything at that moment.
Especially what's coming next.
And she knows she'd be losing her resolve should she not do this sooner so when she notices Quinn start to lift her hand for a shaky wave, Rachel gathers all the power she has in herself, then does what's expected of her.
"Stop staring, loser. You're creepy enough as you are," she says with as much cruelty as she can muster, trying so, so hard to ignore the weight that settles on her chest as she sees Quinn's face fall at that, pain oozing instantly from her already-sad hazel eyes. The blonde shakily follows Rachel's order, head bowing meekly.
It's incredibly excruciating – watching Quinn's pain – and it's one of the things Rachel wishes she could unsee.
Putting down someone who doesn't deserve to be put down hurts, and now that she has spent time with the girl and got to know her, the horrible feeling doubles – and she's sure that it's the same with how Quinn feels right now, which is the worst part of this all. Hard as it may be to accept, now she can see what Santana's talking about – the consequences of letting Quinn into their lives.
She hears the group of cheerleaders snicker from where they're at and she gets this overwhelming urge to punch Melissa hard in the face, then do the same to the rest.
But this isn't an alternate universe, and as what's expected of her, she doesn't do that.
Instead, she tries to roll her eyes at the timid blonde in front of her, just so she can have a reason to look away. To look at anything else but her. To see everything else except her.
Which is hard to do because even if she can take her eyes away from the blonde, she can't do the same with her brain and all she can think of is that few seconds when Quinn's face fell.
Taking in a deep breath, she silently tells herself that it would be OK. She can talk to Quinn some time later – outside school, preferably – and she can explain to her that they're still friends (because Rachel really wants her to be), but they'll have to keep it secret for now. It'll be for Quinn's own good. She just doesn't want Quinn to get all the ire and attention once the social scale is tipped and chaos on power happens.
For now, she prays the most for Quinn to be OK.
/
As she listens to Rachel's feet pound further away, Quinn feels her own knees go weak. It feels like a hammer is continuously hitting her in the chest, making it a little harder to breath.
(Breathing is hard every day, but everything just seems worse after hearing what Rachel really feels about her. After having what she fears confirmed.)
An icy sensation rushes to her neck unstoppably and she starts feeling light-headed. She has to lean against the wall to stop herself from falling on the floor and making an even bigger fool of her stupid, pathetic, garbage self.
As she blankly stares at a spot on the floor, she feels her world falling apart. Her father was right, like always. Of course, even nice and smart and understanding and perfect Rachel wouldn't want anything to do with a freak like her. Why would the cheerleader waste her time with some stupid, failing piece of trash when she can have normal, worth loving friends?
Rachel just felt sorry for her because she was sick. Nothing more. Rachel wanting to be her friend was just another one of her fantasies – another thing she imagined would come true because she believed so much in it. She bets that's true with Brittany, too.
She feels the hot tears course down her cheeks, and she wipes at them furiously. But she can't catch them fast enough and they still drip to her jaw. They still fall to the floor, where they'll only vanish later – destined to go unnoticed by everyone. Quinn's pain will be forgotten by everyone later – or maybe not.
Because how can people forget something they've never noticed in the first place?
Or maybe they do – and her father is just right. Everyone believes she deserves to be hurt because she's a very bad daughter and person.
Taking a deep breath, she rakes her brain for what she did wrong to Rachel. She must have had done something to drive the head Cheerio away like that. Doesn't she always? Was it because she ate the bacon? Was that a test? Or did she ruin Rachel's sheets without her knowing? She's stupid enough to do that…
Or was it simply because she exists?
Not for the first time, she feels the overwhelming wish to just be gone.
Then a worse thought occurs to her. Did her father talk to Rachel? Does she know now how much of a disappointment she really is? Does she know how many times her father has to punish her only to fail at straightening her out? Does she know about her disgusting scars, her myriad of bruises – reminders of her failure as a daughter and as a person? Does she know how ugly Quinn is – not just on the outside, but in the inside as well?
Pain explodes inside her chest at that thought alone and she whimpers as she lays a cold palm against her bosom. Her heart always hurts, she doesn't know why – but nothing can describe the pain she feels there now. There's no way Rachel would want to be her friend now. Or Brittany. Or anyone, really.
She winces because the pain is getting harsher, and it's getting a little harder to breath.
Panting, she decides to go to her usual hiding place under the bleachers, and get there as fast as she can because she's afraid she'll pass out. She can just curl over herself there and wait, as usual, for the pain to dissipate. It always does, if she tries hard enough and prays for it enough. She has time – it's still an hour before lunch break ends.
Maybe if she's lucky enough she could just disappear there forever, too.
/
Dear amazing people,
Happy New Year, y'all!
Your reviews are overwhelming, really. They inspire me to keep writing despite my busy schedule as of late. Thank you very much.
And awwwww. Thanks to those who were wishing us a happy Christmas. We did enjoy the holidays. The electricity wasn't restored yet, so we had to celebrate in darkness, but my whole family was there – happy and healthy and hopeful despite everything – and it was perfect.
I do hope you had a wonderful Christmas and a meaningful New Year as well.
As for the story, I hope you aren't disappointed that the 'saving' hasn't come yet.
Originally, I planned to have it this chapter. But then I figured that it wouldn't be nice to have Santana and Rachel befriend Quinn just because they feel bad about the other girl being abused. A nice, stronger foundation of friendship would be better so they'll have more reasons to beat Russell shitless when they figure out.
Also, I am sorry if this fic is making you sad. I promise, this is making me sad, too. Perhaps even more.
I just remembered a reviewer wanting (way back) to see some Berry setback – how treating Quinn like a friend in front of her peers wouldn't be as easy as everyone wishes for – so I gave it a try.
Also, this chapter ended excruciatingly sadly but we'll have some Fierce loving next chap so Quinn would feel much better.
And we'll get to meet Rachel's dads, too.
XOXO,
Quelle