So, I always do research for my writing. Thus, most of the medical crap I throw in and the symptoms and side effects; all that is as accurate as it can be with my lack of medical knowledge, a few medical books, and the internet. However, my knowledge of clinics and hospital workings is limited. There's only so much I can learn online and without doing some extensive undercover work, I did the best I could with what I had. Keep that in mind.
Chapter 28: The Emptiness and Failure
"No, you… you help." It wasn't who she'd normally go to for help, but she needed her then. There was no one else and nowhere to go. She just needed her, no matter what their differences.
"Fine… Fine." What other choice did she have? She couldn't just leave Rachel there in pain and vomiting. The diva was pale and sickly looking. They may not have been anywhere near the realm of friends, but she wasn't going to leave her there alone. "Can you walk?"
"Maybe…" She couldn't. One step and she was whimpering. It wasn't the act of walking so much as the excruciating ripples of pain that coursed her body.
"Don't, just let me help you. Wrap an arm around my shoulder and I'll take you to my car."
She was hesitant to accept anymore help, but she was also in no position to deny it. "Where… where are we going?" Rachel asked in between deep breaths as she tried to ebb away the sharp pains.
"Hospital." She said as she helped Rachel into the car before taking her own spot in the driver's seat.
"No… no…"
"Yes." She insisted, pulling the car into drive and heading off. "Something's wrong with you. I can't just leave you here even if I wanted to and I can't take you home like this. I will not be responsible for you dying. So the only place left is the hospital."
"Shaw Clinic." She went there before when her dads were away. They were generally discreet and treated younger patients without parents' permission. She didn't know if that was legal, but she didn't really care. They did everything a hospital did; they just did it for people without insurance and all that responsible adult nonsense. It was a clinic attached to a neighboring hospital, how bad could it have been?
"What?"
"We can go to the clinic."
"They don't do emergencies. They're not an ER."
"Please." Rachel pleaded. "They do emergency walk ins. They don't ask questions. And they're open all day."
"Agh, fine." She was frustrated and gave in. This wasn't how she saw her night going and definitely not who she saw herself with. "We'll go to the clinic, but if anything happens, it's on you. I did my part… And don't throw up in m car." Rachel's only response was some incoherent babble. The rest of the ride was silent. The only thing exchanged were a few glances here and there. She kept looking at Rachel to make sure she was ok. Obviously, she wasn't because every time she looked, Rachel's face was either scrunched up from pain or she looked like she was desperately trying to hold back the vomit. Even as they pulled into the clinic parking lot, they stayed quiet. She walked over to the other side of the car to help Rachel out.
"I got it. I'm feeling better. I'm ok." Lies… She was not ok, nor was she feeling better, but she needed to pretend.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes." Rachel was scared. She had never felt like that before. The dizziness she felt before. The headache she felt before. But she didn't get sick. This was sick. The nausea and pain; that was new. That wasn't normal, and she didn't know what it meant.
Together they walked into the automatic doors of the clinic, which was surprisingly, a lot like an urgent care center. "We need help." She said to a passing nurse.
"Sign in over there and someone will be right with you."
"Come on Rachel. We'll go sign in." They walked over to the receptionist area, or whatever the hospital type equivalent was.
"Name?" The tired woman behind the desk's glass window asked.
"Ray…" She started, but was cut off by Rachel,
"Barbara Ray." She informed them as she looked toward her friend who was shooting her weird looks which weren't helping. She wasn't going to use her real name. Small towns talk. And, even if they were outside Lima, word got around on the gossip trains.
"Age?" The woman looked at them suspiciously.
"18." Rachel lied. The woman didn't believe her, but it was policy not to push. Most of their clientele were scared or neglected kids, underprivileged or homeless, and the like. So the woman just asked some follow up questions about her problems and reasons for being there and got Rachel settled for the intake exam.
"Do you want me to stay with you?"
"No Quinn, I want you to leave and pretend you never saw me. This didn't happen. This never happened."
"As much as I'd like to pretend I didn't spend even a second of my time with you, I can't do that."
"Why not?"
"Because, you need someone here, and, unfortunately, that's me."
"Please go." Rachel pleaded.
"I'll wait in the lobby area."
"Fine."
Shortly after Quinn left the doctor came in. Rachel was changed into a gown and the doctor, who introduced himself as Dr. Franks, started asking questions. When did the pain start? How frequent? What other symptoms? Any nausea and/or dizziness? She answered as honestly as she could allow as the questions got more personal. A nurse came to take some blood as he continued the questioning. When he started asking suspicious questions, questions she thought to be irrelevant, she got uncomfortable. What was he getting at?
"I'm sorry Dr. Franks, how is any of this important?"
"I need a proper history to find the cause of your problems. Each question I ask is relevant. I assure you."
"Just do what you have to do."
"Lie back." He told her. "I'm going to feel your abdomen, tell me if it hurts." Of course it would hurt, she was cramping. Her lower back felt like it was on fire. What did this guy expect?
The exam that followed his findings, both through the exam and the tests, were the longest fifteen or so minutes of her life. And possibly, they were the most uncomfortable moments as well. When she arrived, this was not what she was expecting. A little scolding she expected. A little, "you need to be more careful," she could've understood. Maybe she had an infection from the cuts. Maybe it was the anemia. She didn't know; it could've been. But this, she did not expect. Lying flat on her back, knees up, and a man between them was not anywhere in her projected forecast.
Neither was exposing her secret to him. The cuts weren't mean to be seen. And he made a point to tell her she needed help. "How'd you get these cuts?" He asked.
"I was involved in a particularly bad fall during dance rehearsals." He didn't buy it for a second.
"It's not healthy. It's my duty as a physician to report this so you can get better."
"Report what?" She argued. "There's nothing to report." They went back and forth for a while until she managed to convince him not to tell. She promised she'd stop and get help if he didn't. He was reluctant to agree, but eventually he did. The whole situation was awkward and his talking about her issues wasn't easing the tension. And when he told her what he found, she was stunned. Everything being said to her after that was not heard. Well she heard it, but it was never fully processed. In and out it went. She didn't believe him. She didn't want to. It couldn't be happening.
"I'm sorry." He said, like that was going to help her. "Rest a little. I'll have the nurse that was in here earlier give you a prescription for a low dose muscle relaxant. It will help with the cramps. And she'll have antibiotics to help with the infection. Follow up with me in two days and if it gets any worse, call or come in immediately." Dr. Franks handed her a pamphlet and his card. "If you need someone to talk to, there's a card in the pamphlet with a few names of counselors I highly recommend." He said, pulling up a chair next to her. "You need help Barbara." Barbara? Oh yeah, the stage name. "Don't be afraid to ask for it. I can't ignore the signs. While I have no legal proof that you are hurting yourself, the signs are there. Use that number and get the help you need." What did he know? Who was he to tell her what she needed? She was misplacing her anger because it was easier to be mad at him than it was herself. But she was in a tornado of emotion. She was sad and shocked and angry and so messed up. How could it have happened? Why was it happening? How did she let it happen in the first place?
"Wait." She called as he went for the exit.
"Yes?"
"Is it my fault? Did I cause this?"
"Sometimes it just happens. Most of the time, the cause is unknown. There have been debates in the medical community about whether high stress, both physical or emotional, can be a contributing factor. Proper nutrition is important too. The truth of the matter is, we don't know."
"Thank you." She said as she looked away. She just wanted to be alone. And as soon as he left, she'd break down. "It was my fault." She said to herself. "You caused this. It's all your fault." Furiously, she wiped away the tears. She had no right to feel what she was feeling. It was her fault. How could she be upset when she caused it?
She hadn't even realized so much time had passed until a nurse came in at some point and gave her a dose of something or other. Rachel couldn't have been sure. She wasn't really listening. The kind lady just administered the drugs and told her it would help with the pain. Rachel's mind was blank as she stared at the wall. No thoughts, not pain… nothing. She felt nothing. Suddenly, she missed the agonizing cramps and the pounding in her head. At least then she felt something. She deserved to feel bad. She deserved to suffer, because it was her fault.
She barely understood when the nurse told her that once the IV bag was through she was free to go. "It's just a precaution. It will help you feel better. There isn't much we can do." Nothing made her feel better. Her own mind, her own problems, her damn secrets… they caused it. She caused it. How was she supposed to deal with that? Was there a way to get over it?
The gentle knock at the door pulled her from the black hole her head was spinning in. Nothing made sense. Her life was a mess, as it had been for a while, but she just kept digging her hole deeper. Another knock came from the door and this time the visitor didn't wait for a reply. So as the door opened, Rachel hurriedly brushed away the tears. "Rachel?" Quinn's voice sounded so kind, so soothing, so not Quinn…. What did she know? What was she planning? There was no way Quinn would ever use that voice, the voice reserved for those she cared about, unless she knew something or had something up her sleeves. Which was it?
"What do you want? I thought I asked you to leave." She said coldly as she hugged herself, blanket covered knees pulled to her chest and her cut riddled arms wrapped around her upper body trying to find a way to soothe herself and keep the secrets away from the intruder.
"And I told you I wasn't going to. How are you feeling?"
"Fine." Quinn's posture changed. She looked slightly guilty and a little shy. She was uncomfortable too. "I… I, uh, overheard the doctor talking to a nurse. I know what happened… I'm sorry." The anger inside Rachel was growing, but she, for some reason, couldn't be mad at Quinn. This was entirely on her. No amount of blaming Quinn would change that.
"Whatever." That was all she could bring herself to say. She didn't want to talk, least of all to Quinn. She didn't want to be reminded. She didn't want to live it. She just wanted to forget. And she knew that she wouldn't get the same satisfaction out of her normal pick-me-ups, because, in her mind, they were the reasons she was where she was.
"I don't know what I would've…"
"Stop!" She interrupted. "I don't care Quinn!" She yelled. Calming herself, she repeated, "I don't care."
"I'm sorry."
"Great you're sorry. That doesn't help. You being here doesn't help."
"Do you want me to call someone? Is there someone you want here?" Quinn asked timidly.
"No." It was flat and devoid of all emotion. She was shutting herself off, shoving it into a box so she could pretend it didn't happen. She would punish herself, just not in her normal ways. Her normal routes would just make her feel guiltier, worse, because it'd be a reminder; a reminder that she did this to herself. That a part of her died at her own hand. And she hated herself for that. She hated herself more than she ever did. It was a hate so deep she didn't know she could feel. But she felt it. She was living it. And the pain and nausea were just reminders of such. But she deserved it.
"Then I'm staying."
"No." Not once had Rachel looked at Quinn. She couldn't. Something just stopped her like an unseen force. But she just knew that actually seeing Quinn there, looking her in the eyes… It would've made it worse. She couldn't handle worse.
"You can't be alone."
"Don't you get it Quinn? I am alone. I'm always alone. At school, you make sure of that. At home, your daughter does. Why can't you just stay out of my life?"
"I… I…"
"Leave."
"What? I can't leave you here."
"Please?" Her resolve was fading. She could no longer keep the harsh, unbroken fascia. She couldn't deal with anything and every feeling she had been avoiding decided then to make an appearance. She was on overload and she couldn't take much more.
"Please what? What do you want from me?"
"I want you to leave! Leave Quinn! I don't want you here. You don't want to be here. So just leave. Pretend this never happened. We will never talk about this. We will never, under any circumstances, bring this up. It just ceases to exist. Nothing changes and we just go on."
"Just like that?"
"Just like that."
"Rachel…"
"No Quinn, I don't want to hear it. I just want you to leave."
"I can't."
"Please…" She pleaded, the tears starting to prickle in her eyes again.
"Please don't cry." Quinn said quietly and approached the bed. "I'm here."
"But why? Why are you being nice to me?"
"I don't know." It barely came out above a whisper, just loud enough for Rachel to hear, but it was true. Maybe Quinn felt for Rachel, sympathized, empathized… She didn't know. What she did know was that in that moment, it didn't matter that she hated Rachel most days. It didn't matter that they were the farthest thing from friends. All that mattered was Rachel and her need for a kind and compassionate friend to rely on. With no one else there, that job fell onto Quinn. And she could do it. She'd want someone to do it for her if roles were reversed. And she knew Rachel would've been that person for her. In fact, Rachel, in many ways, was that person for her when she found out she was pregnant with Beth. Rachel convinced her to stay in glee. Rachel didn't make her feel like the school slut. And while she still hated the little midget, she owed it to her to offer the same support.
"What are you doing?" To say Rachel was shocked by Quinn hugging her would be an understatement. Everything about the day was shocking and completely unbelievable, but Quinn being there attempting to be nice was by far the most astonishing of it all; and the hug.
Quinn didn't even know why she did it. Maybe it was part of the comforting. She would want a hug. She'd also prefer it from someone who didn't torture her regularly, but Rachel would have to take what she could get. "Shh…" was her response. She couldn't answer Rachel's questions and she didn't know what to say, so silence was better. Silence was key. She'd be there without really being there; a substitute for whoever should've been there helping her and comforting her, hugging her.
"I want to leave." Rachel's voice was so quiet it almost scared Quinn. The girl hadn't been as boisterous as of late, but her voice had never been as timorous and scared as it was then either.
"Did the doctor say you were free to go?"
"What does that matter?"
"It's important. You can't just leave."
"Watch me." She said with her ferocity back. Angrily ripping the IV from her arm and quickly covering it with her hand, she stood from the bed and pulled herself away from Quinn. She didn't deserve the comforting. She didn't want Quinn to try. She didn't understand a nice Quinn and it was too difficult to bear. If Quinn was being nice, something was wrong, and nothing could be wrong.
"Rachel stop! You're bleeding."
Ignoring Quinn she just demanded, "Get out so I can get changed."
"No!"
"Yes."
"No Rachel. This isn't right. They were going to let you go soon anyway. What's the matter with you?"
Something in her just snapped. She didn't know what it was; maybe it was the day weighing on her or her life catching up to her, but her filter was gone. "What's wrong? What's not wrong? Every day I am ridiculed, picked on, bullied, and abused. But no one cares. My fathers died. The only people who cared about me died. And here I am, shacked up with Mommy, who has a nasty habit of showing up and bailing on me, and Miss Perfect's baby. I live one bad day to the next hoping that it would eventually get better. And it never does! It never does…. And now this happened…. So you tell me," she looked to Quinn, tears flowing freely, "you tell me what's the matter because I can tell one thing from the other."
Quinn watched in stunned paralysis, as a half dressed Rachel crumbled to the ground. What was she supposed to do? She couldn't just stand there and watch someone she always treated poorly, someone she helped put in that position, suffer alone. So she walked over to Rachel, bent down, and held Rachel close to her chest. At first Rachel pushed her away, but she just couldn't fight for long. "Let it out. It's ok." Was it ok? Would it ever be ok? She didn't know. Neither of them did and Rachel certainly didn't believe it coming from her, but that was what was supposed to be said; what needed to be said. "I won't tell anyone. I promise." She needed to hear that and Quinn needed to say it. She was many things, mainly a bitch, but Quinn wouldn't use this to hurt her. And, a part of her, didn't want to ruin her image by helping the pitiful Rachel Berry. As pathetic and terrible as that was, it was true.
Rachel didn't know how to respond so she simply said thank you and then pushed Quinn away. Wiping at her tears once more she said, "I need to get changed."
"Ok, I'll wait outside." With that, Quinn willingly left the room. It was so not how she thought she'd be spending her vacation; with Man Hands at a clinic. Who would've thought?
As Rachel was getting her things together, now fully dressed and covered, another knock came from the door. Assuming it was Quinn she quickly answered, "Come in." Back turned away from the door as she tied her shoe, it wasn't Quinn's voice she heard.
"Barbara, my name is Dr. Winters." She immediately turned around. Another doctor? What did she want? "I'm a psychiatrist at the hospital. Dr. Franks asked me to come talk to you before you left." What? "Would that be ok?"
"Do I have a choice?" Rachel asked as she sat on the bed defeated.
"You always have a choice."
"I doubt that."
"And why's that?"
"Because if I did have a choice, you would've left as soon as I asked if I had a choice by taking it as a 'no, I'd rather not talk.' So clearly you're going to talk to me either way. Let's just get this over with." There was a reason she stopped going to her therapist. She actually had a reason to go. Her fathers got her one when she was a kid to quote, "deal with the atrocities said about being raised by two fathers." As soon as she actually had real reason to talk to someone, like the bullying and the growing eating disorder, she fled. She convinced her father as soon as she started high school that it was unnecessary and that she was perfectly ok. Obviously, that was a lie, but the only time since then that she saw a shrink was when Shelby abandoned her.
"Do you hurt yourself Barbara?" Well, she just got right to the point. No more pleasantries, Rachel just had to talk her way out of it.
"I know you're just doing your job, and I can appreciate that, but I have a perfectly good psychologist that I am working with to help me deal with my issues."
"So you recognize that you have some things to work through?" No…
"Yes, that's the purpose of your job. Isn't it? To help people through things."
"It is. That and to help them understand what's going on."
"Well," she spoke determinedly, "I know what's going on. I lost my parents and I acted out. But I'm dealing with it. Are we done now?" She had to be convincing. Whether she believed what she said or not, Rachel knew she had to be open or she'd just have to talk more. So she'd offer little tidbits.
"You lost your parents?"
"They died in a car accident." Seriously, why was she still talking to this woman?
"And you talked to your therapist about everything?"
"Yes, I see Dr. Blye once a week. She says I'm making good progress."
"That's good."
"Yup…" Rachel did everything in her power to get out of there, to get Dr. Winters out of there, and not have to talk about what happened. But she was forced into having a "chat" anyway. Giving as few details as possible and just enough truth to be believable, Rachel did it, or came close to getting out of it. By that point, they had only talked a little about what was going on and she was desperate to stop. So, when a nurse came in with her prescriptions, it was the perfect out. At first, the nurse was confused. Rachel was still supposed to be on an IV and she was supposed to remove it so that the patient could leave, but she must've been beaten to it. She still eyed Rachel suspiciously. "I'm free to go?" Rachel asked, thoroughly intimidated by all the eyes on her.
"Follow up with Dr. Franks on Friday and call if anything changes. You have all the information you need. Follow the instructions."
"Ok." The nurse left and Rachel stood from the bed sending a challenging glare at the doctor. There was no longer a reason to be trapped in the room with the woman. Quinn was waiting and she wanted to get the hell out of there, preferably without Quinn, but the doctor did strongly recommend she have someone look after her and keep her resting. That wasn't going to be Quinn. It wasn't going to be anyone. The point was that she would win that stare down. Winters had no say. She was free and clear and just wanted out. Nothing was holding her back. Turning to the other woman in the room she kindly said, "Thank you for talking with me, but I must be going now."
"It was a pleasure talking with you too. But before you go, take this." Her dark skinned hand reached out for Rachel's, a small white card sticking out. "I know you have a therapist, but if you ever need to talk, just call that number."
"While I appreciate the offer, I doubt I'll take you up on it. Thank you though. I'll keep you in mind." She didn't allow time for response as she quickly pushed through the door and rushed to find the exit. Quinn, spotting her, called after Rachel telling her to wait, but Rachel didn't hear it. As she made it to the outside, she just stopped, the automatic doors opening and closing behind her and the drizzle moistened the clothes on her skin.
"Rachel?" Quinn called for the umpteenth time. "Let's go to the car. You're getting wet." There was no answer. Quinn just guided the brunette through the parking lot until they reached her car. Sitting inside, seatbelts buckled and engine on and them unmoving, Quinn stared at her. She didn't know if she should say anything or what to say if she should, but she had to say something. "Do you want to stay with me?" Rachel's head snapped in Quinn's direction so fast. Where did that come from? She was shocked.
"Why would you want that?" As much as she didn't want to say even one word to Quinn or anyone at that time, she was actually grateful that Quinn's unexpectedness pulled her from her dark thoughts. It distracted her for just a little while.
"Listen, my mom's out of town tonight helping my sister move so I'm all alone at the house. I was going to stay over at Santana's, but something tells me she rather be with Brittany anyway. So do you want to stay over tonight? You shouldn't be alone."
"I shouldn't be with you either."
"No, probably not, but I'm all you got right now." Wasn't that the truth? Her life was sad; sadder than she ever thought if she had to rely on Quinn for help and comfort. It just proved that she was alone.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. Are you planning on telling Shelby?"
"Telling Shelby what?"
Quinn looked at her like she was stupid. "Are you going to tell her what happened?"
Did that question really come out of her mouth? "Seriously?" Of course she wasn't going to tell Shelby or anyone about it… ever.
"I didn't think so." Pulling out of the lot she turned to Rachel and said, "Where are you going to tell Shelby you are?"
"I don't know. I don't think she'd let me stay at Kurt's again, especially now that she knows Finn lives there and they share a room, but I don't know who else to say."
"You could tell her the truth." That was a god one coming from Quinn. Rachel just glared at her. "Or you could lie."
Lying always worked best. Who could she say? Obviously the truth was vetoed. Although Shelby was grossly unaware of the happenings in Rachel's life, saying she was staying at Quinn's would seem like a lie. Even Shelby could see they didn't get along. All the boys of glee were out. So were Santana and Brittany. Kurt was ruled out early. Mercedes could've worked. It would've been believable, but if Shelby, for some reason, decided to question the girl, she would be more likely to slip up and say Rachel was never there. She'd probably do it just to take the solo away by getting her in trouble. So Tina? They weren't not friends… They weren't the best of friends either though. But the question remained. Would Shelby believe it? Would she even bother to read into it and see that it was a lie? Rachel doubted she put that much effort into Rachel's life unless she was bored and looking for ways to drive Rachel nuts. So Tina it was.
Tina wants me to stay over her house. Would that be alright? I'll be home early in the morning.
Are you and Tina even friends? Shelby replied.
Of course we are friends Shelby. She started with that, but she had to make sure Shelby couldn't say no. And Rachel, being the actress she was, had a good idea how to get what she wanted. Mentally, she thanked Quinn for the idea before typing. Her parents are away tonight and she doesn't want to be alone. No one else was able to stay with her due to conflicting schedules and prior commitments. So maybe she drove it home a little hard, but she needed Shelby to just say yes. She just needed to get away from her own head for a little while. And while she truly couldn't escape, she had a better chance if she was away from that house.
Fine. But be home by 11. Aunt Casey wants to take you out.
I will be prompt.
"What did you tell her?" Quinn asked as she watched Rachel put her phone away.
"I simply stated that I am staying at Tina's because she didn't want to be alone and no one else could stay with her."
"Good, she bought it." Choosing not to say anything, Rachel nodded and leaned her head against the window allowing herself to slip into a thought catatonia for the rest of the drive. She vaguely heard Quinn say that she received several texts and missed calls asking where she disappeared to, more specifically, if Rachel went with her, but that she covered for them. Rachel assumed Quinn probably said something nasty to cover the tracks and she'd be right, but knowing didn't make it better. Rachel, too, had several texts from Kurt that she ignored. She'd tell him her phone died or something and that she had to be home. She really didn't care. She didn't even care that she had a few from Noah. He probably just wanted some personal time.
Getting into the house felt like a blur. She didn't even realize it was happening until she was walking down the hall and Quinn was directing her to a bedroom. "You can stay in my sister's old room. We use it for guests."
"Thanks." Rachel mumbled and sat on the edge of the bed.
"I know you don't want to talk about it. I understand, but did the doctor say if you needed to do anything?"
"No, nothing." Quinn didn't like that Rachel wasn't talking in long run on sentences. She didn't like that she cared that Rachel wasn't talking in long run on sentences either.
"Do you want something to eat? If you're still nauseous, I can make soup or get you some crackers."
"No."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
"How do you feel?"
"How do you think I feel?"
"Ok, that was a stupid question, but I don't know what to say." Trying to get some sort or reaction from Rachel, even a simple look in her direction, Quinn carried on. "Do you want to talk about it now?"
"Talk about what?"
Quinn wasn't expecting that, nor was she expecting the harsh way it came out. Rachel usually just took Quinn's attitude and rolled with it, but it was a slight role reversal. Quinn was being nice and Rachel was the pissy bitch. But she had good reasons for acting that was. "About… about it…"
"There's nothing to talk about. Can I just sleep? The doctor said to sleep."
"Sure." What else was she supposed to say? "Sure Rachel, you sleep. If you need anything, my room's the next door on the right." She hesitated, taking the time to examine Rachel's fragile and broken appearance. She couldn't tell if she was still in pain or what she was feeling, but she didn't really want to either. It was bad enough that they were where they were, she couldn't feel anything else when it came to Rachel. "Goodnight."
Looking back one last time, Quinn left. Rachel was tired. There was no denying that. But she couldn't seem to move. So she didn't. She sat there unmoving, staring at a blank spot on the wall. She was numb. Physically she wasn't. She could feel the random pains and she could feel the dulling churning in her stomach. But emotionally, she was numb. There was so much to feel that she couldn't feel it; not if she wanted to, not if she had to. So she sat there. In the dark, she sat there not thinking and thinking it all.
Her body was weak. She was weak. She just wanted to fall asleep and never wake up. Somehow, she fell back onto the bed, now lying down and listening to the rain get heavier and thinking about her day. It was a terrible Wednesday, and, for once, she was glad she missed dance; something she never did without good reason. If that happened there, she wouldn't have been able to explain it away. There'd be a lot of explaining that she couldn't have done and a lot of things she wouldn't want known. But the day sucked. Maybe if she went to dance it wouldn't have happened. Maybe it was karmic justice because she was a terrible daughter, a terrible granddaughter, a terrible niece, and an overall terrible person. All she wanted was to erase the day from her memory. She wanted to forget, but she wanted to be reminded of what she did. It was her fault. Everything bad was always her fault.
There was no sobbing, not then, just silent motionless tears that dripped from her eyes like a leaky faucet as she looked through the window, the world a perfect reflection of how she felt. Dark, empty, void of life, drowning… The makings of a storm. Her life was one storm after another. That's what she thought as the day became too much for her and her body wore out, sleep taking over.
The rays of rain soaked sun peeking through the half drawn blinds woke her early the next morning. The unfamiliar house was silent. No noise. Where was she? She couldn't remember. She tried to block it out, but her memory was quickly returning. She searched for a clock. It was only five. Shelby would be sleeping. Unless Beth woke her up, vacations and weekends had 8 AM wake up calls at the earliest. So she could make it there before anyone was up. And she didn't want to stay at Quinn's any longer. It made things feel too real and it wasn't real in Rachel's mind; not completely.
Getting off the bed, which she realized she was really just laying on, not in, she looked around the room. It was so… She didn't have the right word for it. But she needed to get out of it. So she straightened out the bed leaving any traces of life passing through disappear and quietly searched for a piece of paper. Finding it, she left Quinn a note.
Quinn,
Thank you for… just thank you. I won't tell if you don't.
Rachel
It was short, simple, to the point, and lacked much of anything. It was just what it was supposed to be. And it was distinctly lacking the presence of a gold star. She didn't have it in her to search her bag for one, and she really didn't care if there was one. All she had to do was put it somewhere Quinn would see it. So she quietly snuck out of the room and looked to find Quinn's room. With a quiet grace as to not wake the probably sleeping Cheerio, Rachel slowly opened the door. The room was so upbeat, yellow and bright and very Quinn. It was just missing the bitch. It didn't scream "out to destroy those I deem lesser than myself" like Rachel thought it would. It was warm and welcoming, everything Quinn wasn't to Rachel.
"Whatever." She thought as she shook her head in attempt to wipe all feelings of everything away. All she wanted to do was put the note down and high tail it out of there. Tip toeing toward the bed, Rachel stuck the note next to the clock. She assumed Quinn would eventually find it, and it didn't matter if she didn't.
Rachel was gone. She slinked out of the front door, sure to lock it. She couldn't have a burglary or murder on her conscience too. For a sunny day, it was gloomy and wet. It was still raining on and off and the sun didn't do much to warm the air. It was a chilly beginning to March. And while the doctor advised her to take it easy, she really needed to walk. She needed to do something; walking was it.
By the time she made it to Shelby's it was nearly six. She just wanted a long shower to wash the ick of her life away. She was wet and soggy like a drowned rat and everything still hurt. She refused to take the pills. She didn't deserve them. The pain was her punishment and she needed to feel it. Walking in the house, it was the first time she realized how soaked she got and how cold she was. That definitely wasn't good for her health. But really, what else could've gone wrong? For the first time in her life, she'd welcome an ailment just to keep her from the world and the rest of the world from her.
After hanging up her wet jacket, she headed into the kitchen for some coffee. She got everything out of the cabinets and was about to start a pot when she was surprised to find the pot nearly full and still hot. "I just made it."
She jumped, instantly facing the voice. "Casey? I didn't expect you up so early."
"I'm an early riser. Always have been."
"Oh, ok." Rachel couldn't meet her eyes, but she knew her aunt was watching her.
"You look cold. What were you doing? Walking around in the rain?" Casey obviously meant it as a joke, but the way Rachel tensed, head down and hair covering her face, Casey knew something was up. "Why were you walking in the rain?"
"I wasn't." Casey didn't need to know Rachel long to know something wasn't right. Her voice was too quiet and she was just too jumpy.
"What's wrong?" She asked as she moved to sit next to Rachel.
Rachel recoiled away from the touch. "Nothing's wrong."
Holding her hands up in surrender, she put a hand under Rachel's chin and turned her face so they were looking at each other. She could see the remnants of tears and rain on the girl's face. "Did something happen? Did someone hurt you?"
"No! No, no one hurt me. Nothing happened." Rachel turned her head away again and brought the coffee to her face nearly diving into it. "I'm just tired."
She was sure there was more, but she didn't know how to reach out to her. What other way was there if she wouldn't talk? "Did you and your friend stay up all night having pillow fights and sharing secrets?" Casey was joking, trying to bring levity to the solemn child, but it wasn't working.
"Something like that." Again, she was too quiet. "I need to take a shower and get changed. Please excuse me." She stood from the chair abruptly leaving the full cup teetering.
Saving it from spilling, Casey said, "Something's definitely up."
Rachel kept her emotions at bay. She cried enough on the walk back and in the shower. She could only do it when she was alone. She was glad to have her room back; the privacy back. Nothing looked out of place. And she would know. The only thing that had changed was the new additions; hidden prescriptions and pamphlets. There was a lot hidden there; so much more than what met the eye. She spent the hour after her shower just staring at the bland, lifeless room, inspecting it all. She liked Quinn's room better. It was pretty and perfect and blonde and perky. Her room was ugly and broken and drab and dull. Quinn… Better at everything; everything she was not.
Most of the day after that, like so many other moments in her life, felt like a distant memory that she was living in. At some point, Shelby woke up and asked her about her night, surprised to see her so early. Then Casey took her out for the day wanting some quality time with her niece. Somehow, she managed to hold a decent conversation, but she missed the way she was being studied. Each odd movement, each depressed sigh, each small wince… It was all noted.
Looking at her watch for the first time she saw it was after 4. What had they done all day? Where had they been? She was lost; still lost and yet to be found. Would she ever be? Would anyone ever care to look? Did she want them to? "Earth to Rachel?"
"What?"
"You were up in space. I called your name about a dozen times. Where's your head at?"
"I'm sorry. I know I'm not great company… I… I'm just a little tired." And dead inside.
"I was going to take you to my favorite boutique and then out for dinner, but if you're too tired, we can go home."
"No." She said quickly. "No, we should go." She couldn't let her aunt down.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. Please lead the way."
They ended up at a small clothing shop hidden away in the middle of Nowhere, Ohio. Rachel had never seen it before, but knowing the Corcorans grew up in Ohio, she shouldn't have been surprised that Casey knew a few less mainstream, but incredible, places. "Here, try this on." She vaguely heard Casey say before a beautiful shirt was dangled in front of her.
"I can't." Rachel said. And it was true. She couldn't. The short sleeves would expose her.
"You don't like it?"
"No, it's beautiful. I just… can't." Good excuse. Could she have made it anymore obvious?
"What about this then?" Casey asked, letting the comment slide. Rachel's face cringed. She was enjoying time with her aunt, as much as she could, but she couldn't try on clothes, she couldn't have fun, and she couldn't stand up much longer before her legs gave out. "You have to try on something. I'm your aunt I have to buy you at least one item of clothing. So you pick. This or this?" She gave Rachel two options, both of which she knew would be too big for her and both of which would make her look like a fat cow.
Picking the lesser of two evils, a long sleeved flowy dress, Rachel responded, "I'll try this one."
She felt sick, partially because her body was revolting and partially because of her reflection. She wanted nothing more than to slice open a fresh patch of skin or find the nearest restaurant and do the whole binge and purge. Instead, she stood there, staring, her fingernails digging into her palms until blood was drawn. She wasn't supposed to do that. She wasn't allowed to get her release. Her release caused it to happen and getting the high of it made her sicker. What was wrong with her?
"You ok in there? You're taking a long time."
"I don't like it." Rachel was attempting to get her to back off, but her attempts were futile.
"Come out and let me see it."
"No."
"Please, pretty please?" If she could not disappoint her aunt, she had to try it. So she walked out of the dressing room looking like a creature of the night, ugly and feral. "You're gorgeous." And impossibly thin. It was the first time Casey noticed the frail quality of the girl. Her legs were muscular, yes, but scrawny at the same time. And even with the extra volume the dress gave, Rachel still looked rail thin. It was disturbing and, while Casey knew about what the doctor said, she couldn't help but feel there was more to it. And the girl just looked so sad. She'd get to the bottom of it. She had to.
Casey convinced Rachel to let her buy the dress while temporarily putting her troubling thoughts on hold. She couldn't have that conversation in such a public place, and she wanted to talk to Shelby first. That wasn't to say she wouldn't try to ply information from her niece, because she was going to try, she just didn't know whether their tenuous relationship would allow for much headway. But possibility of failure never really kept her from much. Packing the bags in the trunk and taking off, the two made their way to the last stop of the day.
"Are you not hungry?" Casey was concerned, even more so than before. Rachel's eating habits were weird. She ate, but didn't, and she always played with her food, but normally, she would've at least taken a bite.
"Not really." It was the truth. She wasn't hungry. Even though her body was telling her to eat, even though her stomach would occasionally rumble, and even though she promised herself she'd eat and be better, she couldn't eat. Her mind wasn't hungry. Her body couldn't fathom food.
"Do you feel ok?"
"What? Yeah, I'm fine."
"Are you sure?"
"Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"
"You keep grabbing at your stomach." Was she caught? Did she know?
"I'm fine, just some bad cramps." Truth… absolute truth.
"I might have something for that in my purse if you want it." Rachel stopped her aunt's rummaging.
"It's fine. Can we just talk about something else?" Anything else…
"Fine, tell me about Finn." What? Did she suddenly age a few decades and change her name to Maggie?
"Anything other than that?"
"Come on Rachel, Shelby and mom told me all about him. Was he your first?" She nearly choked on the water she was sipping and looked to Casey with something along the lines of horror. "Love Rachel, was he your first love?"
"Oh, I thought so…" She was hesitant. Did she love Finn? Normally, her answer would immediately be yes, and it was, she did love him, but it didn't feel like she did. How could she have loved someone who continually cheated on her? How could she love someone who didn't love her?
"But?"
"But I don't know."
"I remember my first love." The smile on her face was enthralling. "My first kiss, my first boyfriend."
"What about your husband? Was he any of that?"
"He is my one true love. The firsts don't matter when you find that." Realizing Shelby wouldn't be happy with the implication of what she just said, she backtracked a little. "That doesn't mean you shouldn't wait for your first time." Too late… But Rachel didn't want to think about that.
"We don't have to talk about that." Rachel insisted. But, picking upon her niece's squirrely movements and instant discomfort, she decided to keep going.
"Maybe we should."
"Or not."
"When I was 15, my mom sat me down for this talk. It was so embarrassing and I just wanted to run away. And she made it awkward. She told me details and things I never wanted to associate with my parents. But, in the end, she made it clear that she was talking to me because she loved me and wanted to be there for me and she wanted me safe. Has Shelby ever done that for you?"
"Had the talk?" Casey nodded. "No, thank god!"
"I gave her the talk you know."
"Your mom didn't do it?"
"No, she couldn't get Shelby to stay for it. Every time she tried to talk to her, Shelby would run off. So, one weekend when I was home from school, my mom asked me to do it, and I did. We both thought it'd be easier for it to be me than for her to have to sit through it with our mother."
"Was it?"
"Yes, I think. She still tried to get out of it, but in the end, we were closer. She knew she could talk to me, come to me with whatever and I'd be there." Catching Rachel's eyes she added, "Just like you can now." Rachel immediately looked away. Why was Casey being so nice? "I was just like you as a kid."
That caught Rachel's attention. It wasn't what she was expecting. "You were."
"Yeah. Shelby was more of the free spirit. She did what she wanted, whenever she wanted, just focusing on her dreams and having fun. But you, you are like me. You're the good kid. Great grades. Works hard. But you have a wild side too. Don't you?"
"No, I don't believe I do." Not one she was willing to share… "I got drunk once at a party with the glee club and the next day we had an assembly. Once you get thrown up on, you don't do it again." So she wasn't being completely honest, at least she was opening up a little.
"What else have you done?"
"Nothing. That's about as wild as I got." Crazy; crazy was a different story. She had a lot of crazy.
They fell into an easy repertoire, making small talk and eating, or, in Rachel's case, picking at her food. Casey watched her still, worried that she hadn't been eating. But when Rachel saw her staring, she shoved a few mouthfuls down to appease her. It probably wasn't her best move because she was still not 100%. She didn't know if it was psychosomatic or a physical thing, but the nausea was more than just a feeling. "Excuse me." She said abruptly while trying not to draw too much attention to herself. Casey watched Rachel rush to the bathroom.
Throwing up the first time was a natural thing, her body's reaction. But the second time, that was because she wanted to. And then the guilt came in full force. "No!" She screamed in her head. She said she was going to stop, but she felt good when she did it. Cold turkey was harder than she thought. She failed miserably after just one day of trying. What a loser…
Even after she finished, she stayed there and sat on the, less than clean, toilet lid. She was horrible. When the doctor told her… When he even hinted at his theory that… She was devastated. She still was. And shocked; she was shocked too. But then it got worse. That indescribable pit in her stomach got worse when she asked if it was her fault. He didn't say it. He took the politically correct route, but she knew. She knew it was her fault. Malnutrition, physical stress, mental stress… Those were all contributing factors, so was the slight infection from one of her cuts.
And after that, she didn't know what to think or what to feel. But she made herself another promise. Other than being a better daughter and family member, she silently promised, a promise she already broke, to stop, to be healthier, to be better, and to be more. But she was none of that. She was just a failure. Not even 24 hours after the promise and, in a weakened state, she already caved. She did it. She pushed her unhealthy body beyond its breaking point. She just wanted it over. She wanted it all over.
"Rachel?" Oh God, Casey. She forgot about Casey. She forgot where she was. The black hole was still consuming her.
"Casey, I'll be right out." She called through the door, peeking through the crack to watch her leave.
"Are you ok?"
"Yeah, sorry I took so long. Only one stall was usable and it was occupied, but after a thorough hand washing, I will return to our table."
"Are you sure?"
"Positive."
"Ok."
Most of dinner was awkward after that. They were quiet for the most part and Rachel was fighting a raging war within herself. Nothing good was going on in her mind or body. It was definitely not a good place to be. But somehow, unlike everyone else, Casey could see through the walls up. She could see the façade. And she was unrelenting. She saw through everything Rachel did and it made the younger Corcoran both uncomfortably vulnerable and, oddly enough, wishing she could be more open. It was an inexplicable thing. How did Casey do it? How come Rachel couldn't control herself? So because of that, somehow, due to some uncontrollable force within her pushing her to do it, she asked something she never thought she would.
"Was it nice?" She started, but continued. "Do you remember it?"
The timid voice startled Casey. Rachel had been so quiet; she wasn't expecting to hear anymore from her. "Remember what?" Her response was almost immediate. It was one of the few times Rachel had initiated conversation and she was going to take full advantage.
"Your first time…" Her voice was still quiet, but curious.
"My first time?" She had a feeling what Rachel was asking, but if she wanted to know, she was going to have to come out and ask it.
"Yes. What was it like the first time you had intercourse." They both cringed at the way it came out, so sterile and clinical. Both were a little uncomfortable, but Rachel was curious and Casey was willing.
"You want to know about the first time I had sex?" Rachel nodded, too embarrassed to say anything. "You're not going to tell your mother we're discussing this?"
"No, I promise that whatever is said will stay between us." For whatever reason, a reason unbeknownst to Rachel, she wanted to know more about Casey and more about that. Maybe it had to do with her current predicament and how things could've been different, but she also wanted to talk with Casey. If she and Shelby had any kind of real relationship and the taboo subject wouldn't make for an awkward tense conversation, maybe she would've talked to her. But, as it was, she couldn't and wouldn't. However, with Casey, it felt different. It was different. In some ways, it was like having a blank slate with Shelby. It was new. It was like having a surrogate Shelby, only different; she was older, wiser, better…
"I wish I was a little older, but I was 17, almost 18, younger than Shelby, just don't tell her that I told you. But it was nice, as nice as it could've been with someone I only thought I loved. It's hard to tell the difference between love and infatuation at such a young age…" Rachel listened to the story intently, trying not to, but still, comparing her own experience to her aunt's. Puck, Noah, wasn't just some guy. What happened, happened, but she never had any expectations. It was just sex and whatever, like they had talked about and agreed to. "I honestly think that if I had waited for Mark, it would've been even more special and perfect." Her first time wasn't how she expected or when she expected or even where she expected, but it was still pretty special. For a guy who liked to sleep around a lot and was known for hit and runs, he made her feel special. That was what made him Noah.
"What about Shelby?" She asked.
"I don't think so. If you want to know about that, you'll have to ask her yourself." Rachel didn't respond to that. She had been anticipating something like that. She should've, but didn't, anticipate the question she got next. "Have you…?"
"What? Have I what?"
"Have you had s…?" Rachel cut her off. Saying yes or giving any answer would just open doors she wasn't ready to see inside and get to where she was then and she wasn't near ready for that.
"No… No, no, no, no, no… Nope… I don't want to talk about this anymore."
"Just like I said before Rachel, whatever you say to me stays between us. I know it's hard to accept, but you can trust me."
"I know I can." And somehow, she really knew she could. But she still couldn't answer that. She couldn't do it. She felt her answer would've been disappointing and her aunt seemed to be the only one she hadn't disappointed yet.
"Rachel," she started with genuine worry in her voice, "is there something going on? Is there something happening in your life, anything that you want to or need to talk about?"
Ignoring it, she grabbed her bag and said, "I think I'm ready to go. Are you?"
Not wanting to give up, but knowing Rachel shut herself off, Casey said, "Yes, I'm ready to go." Check paid and coats on, they were out of there.
A silent ride later and they arrived. Rachel politely said, "Thank you for spending the day with me. I really had a good time and I enjoyed talking with you."
"I liked talking to you too. And you make really good company." Sensing that Casey was about to say something she probably didn't want to get into, Rachel grabbed the shopping bag that held her purchases and vamoosed, effectively bunkering herself into her room.
No one really bothered her for the rest of the night, and the goodnight calls went unanswered as she pretended to be asleep. But being alone allowed for the thoughts to take over again. She journalled about it hoping that would make it go away or at least make her feelings clear. But even into the wee hours of the night, she thought about it. She thought about what she did wrong, about how she could've prevented it. Did she even want that? Maybe it was for the best that it ended the way it did. Thinking that made her want to swallow her bottle of pills and say goodbye to the world forever. Instead, although she really did consider it, she just let herself slip into the ocean of her thoughts and drown in it.
When she woke up that Wednesday morning, she just thought she got her period. She hadn't had it in a while. It had been spotty and light and inconsistent at best for months, but she just thought it was regulating again. She never thought it was this. It was normal. A symptom of anemia was the possible absence of menstrual cycle. She just thought the medicine was working. And the cramps, well, could be explained by a number of other things.
She couldn't have been pregnant. They were careful. They were safe. Except for once… She reminded herself of that. It only takes once and that time after their picnic was that once. And she was stupid enough to let it happen; now dealing with the consequences. She lost a piece of her, a piece of Noah… There was a life inside of her that she didn't know about and it just disappeared.
She was feeling so much and nothing at all. She was just… empty…
She hated herself. She hated what happened. She hated that she got pregnant in the first place. She hated that she caused the miscarriage. She hated it all… She hated everything… And she was going to hate what happened later too. She should never let her emotions get the best of her.
It was late, or early, when she heard it. At first she thought she was dreaming. Awoken by the loud cries of her daughter, Shelby jumped out of bed. Instinctively, she ran to Beth. The blonde child was crying too, she heard it over the monitor, but she was not the one in need. She was just feeding off the sadness of the other daughter. Laying Beth back in her crib and turning on the music box to quell the other noises, Shelby went in a panicked search for Rachel.
Not bothering to knock, afraid that she'd just be rejected, Shelby just entered. Her heart broke at the sight before her. Rachel was curled up in the corner of her room by the window, drowning in a sea of her own tears as she stared at nothing. Shelby didn't know what to do. The girl before her was a fragile version of her daughter that she was just waiting to see. But how was she supposed to help her when, in the past, she barely tolerated Shelby's touch? She decided to take her chances. Her daughter needed her and she needed to be there; her pride be damned. If she was pushed away, she'd just have to deal with it. But she, at least, had to try.
Rachel didn't even hear Shelby come in, never mind hearing her approach. But suddenly, there was a body next to her and arms wrapped protectively around her. Her body acted instinctually and sunk into the touch, falling deeper into her mother's embrace. And, if possible, the tears just came heavier and more frequent. She didn't know she had so many in there. Her sobs shook her body violently as Shelby pulled her closer and began running a hand through the younger's hair. She had no idea what was happening or what had the girl so sad, but whatever it was had to be big if Rachel was accepting her consoling.
"It's ok Rachel. Everything's going to be ok. You're ok…"
"N… na… No… It's not…" She hiccupped out. It was hard to breathe… harder to talk.
"Shhh… Yes it is." Her reassurances only made the tears more furious. Rachel couldn't control anything anymore. She was losing it and she didn't know how to stop. "Whatever it is, it's going to be ok."
"Nu… nothing's oh…. Ok." She couldn't imagine what she looked like, but she felt like crap. Her body ached as the tears poured off her face and she delved deeper into the puddle she created on Shelby's shirt. "It… it's all… all my fault."
"What was your fault?"
"I… I did it…" Her thoughts weren't coherent or fluid. It was more like she was talking to herself more than to Shelby. But she couldn't stop.
"What did you do?"
"I… I… I promise to be better." Shelby was confused.
"Better at what sweetie?"
"I promise to be better…" It was a promise to herself; another one. She wanted to stop. Maybe she had a problem. Maybe she needed to stop. And she could. She wanted to, so she could. So it wasn't a problem. No, she could stop. She would stop. She'd stop everything cold turkey; round two. "I'll be better. I won't be so bad anymore. I promise."
They stayed like that, Rachel's unceasing torment and Shelby's utter confusion, for another hour or so until Rachel fell asleep still sniffling. Shelby didn't understand any of it. She didn't know what happened or what was happening. She just knew her daughter was broken. Something broke her. And it was sick, but she liked it because Rachel finally let her hold her. But that selfishness aside, there was something seriously wrong. But it was too early to figure out what. She needed coffee, lots of coffee, before Rachel woke up and they had a little, much needed, heart to heart about what just happened. What warranted that breakdown? Was Rachel finally dealing with her fathers' passing? Was it something else? She needed to know. It was her motherly duty to know.
Thinking of what could've caused that, Shelby made her way into the kitchen. "How is she?"
"Casey? Jeez, you make it a habit to scare people."
"I'm sorry. How's Rachel?"
"You heard that?"
"Who didn't hear that?"
It was loud, but necessary, she suspected; probably a long time coming. Casey was so worried about her niece. She needed to talk to Shelby soon and see if she was seeing the same signs she was. She had to know, because if Shelby was too close to the situation, she'd be blind to it, and if that was the case, she really needed to say something. And after hearing the girl cry, more like sob gut wrenching tears, her concern grew tenfold. Something was going on.
"She finally fell asleep. She must be so exhausted. Did something happen while you were out with her?"
"No."
"I have no idea what made her snap, but something just broke and she let it all out. I'm going to talk with her once she wakes up. That's not normal. Something else had to have happened, right?"
"Shelby…" Casey looked at her, eyes red with sleep and sadness. "We need to talk… About Rachel…"
My computer has a severe aversion to the heat and I have a severe aversion to being locked in a room with the air conditioning. So writing has been slower. But this is a long chapter and we're finally approaching the issue. As a bonus, if people actually read my excessive author's notes, here's the working title for one of the very near chapters. Discovery… Do with that what you will. Speculate as you must.
I apologize for any grammar and spelling errors. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Until next time…
I want to say that I'm so grateful for all of the wonderful comments. Thank you to everyone who reviewed, favorited, and/or added this to their alerts. Don't be afraid to tell me what you think or if there's anything you'd like to see happen.