Next chapter will be up once it's finished being written. Lol Enjoy. It's great hearing all the guesses about how things are going to go.
Chapter 10: FalsitiesRachel may have calmed a bit on the outside after her little… incident, but she wasn't at all calm. She woke up at the crack of dawn not feeling rested at all, probably because she passed out more than fell asleep, and then barely made it through the day. She had classes and her mind was everywhere else. Her whole body was tense, mind always on edge. It wasn't great for her dancing or her overall anything. She was easily distracted, making her clumsy and antsy.
If she fell one more time trying to pirouette, she was ready to rip out all her hair. One thing was clear, she had no business being in the studio or around people.
She was losing the façade and there was nothing she could do about it. She just… She was feeling way too much. It was as if it happened all over again. He was playing with her – using her – just in new, intrusive ways that she didn't see coming.
But that was the thing, wasn't it? She didn't see any of it coming.
She was stupid. Careless. And maybe, because of that, she deserved what happened. She was his doll to do with what he wanted… She basically let it happen.
Now, though, she had another problem. Jasper was back at it. He was sending her messages from a new number after she blocked him. He didn't take too kindly to her act, and he was letting that be known.
Look what I found, his most recent text read. Attached to it was a photo – probably cropped – of her – that night – with her dress scrunched up, a hand on her underwear and her body exposed. There's more where that came from.
Her stomach dropped and her heart raced when she read the text and saw the picture, so much so she could barely remember her outburst, only that, of all her anxiety attacks of late, this one felt the worst. She honestly thought she was dying.
She faintly remembered Santana by her side, crying along with her, but she wasn't cognizant enough to explain or talk. Rachel was having a hard enough time breathing, never mind explain her crazy.
Maybe the worst part was that she didn't remember that happening. When did he take pictures? And how without her knowing? There were some details about that night that were fuzzy – just fuzzy enough that she thought she could convince herself it didn't happen. There were some details she remembered in such vivid detail that she wished she could surgically remove the images from her brain.
But there was a lot she couldn't remember. Apparently, though, there were pictures. How? She didn't understand. The vivid was so vivid, but the bits she was missing… If there were pictures taken, some she was sure were more exposing than the one he dropped as a breadcrumb, what else didn't she remember?
She remembered fighting, though barely. She recalled the heavy weight of him on her, the smell of alcohol and cologne, and his rough touch… She remembered the after. Partially…
Rachel felt like she was in and out of a dream. One moment, she was semi-alert and aware, the next she was so out of it she couldn't say which way was up or down.
It almost felt like she was watching something happen to someone else, but she was feeling the pain of it. That was the best way to explain it. Mostly, she felt spacey. She knew what was happening, but could barely fight back.
But she did fight, right? She tried?
"Stop," she muttered, a whimpered, quiet cry. "Please. Stop."
"Shh," he hissed, a hand moving to cover her mouth.
She felt weak and tired, her mind hazy. Her eyes felt heavy. She could barely keep them open. She fought to but lost the battle.
"Don't worry. You won't feel a thing," he lied.
Partially lied. She felt everything for a long time drifting in and out, but eventually, she gave into the darkness. What happened after that, she couldn't say, but she woke up early the next morning lying on the floor, bare and with a shard of broken glass digging into her side.
Everything hurt. Places that shouldn't hurt, ached.
Disoriented, she wasn't sure where she was at first, but everything slowly came back to her. Panicked and terrified, she slowly got up from the ground, looking around. She needed out.
Jasper was sleeping peacefully, looking no worse for the wear. She was questioning her own sanity… and suddenly it felt like she couldn't breathe. Her heart raced and blood rushed. She felt wholly exposed and raw as she searched for her dress.
Rachel slipped it on, noticing a tear by her thigh. She didn't stop to think about that or the blood caked on her body. She just grabbed her bag and ran as far as she could before the pain and disorientation hit her once more.
She had to stop not far from his apartment. Her short, labored breaths made it hard for her to concentrate or move. If the pain wasn't bad enough, the absolute terror rushing through her body and the constant paranoia that he was following her or danger was around, made it impossible for her to function.
It took a while for her breathing to return to normal. The aches and petrification didn't fade, but she knew she needed to make it home. She wasn't safe. Maybe she never would be again.
She would never be able to explain how she made it home. She remembered nothing about the journey, just that as soon as she shut the door behind her, she locked herself in the bathroom and cried.
She couldn't even shower in fear of waking her roommates, but she felt so disgusted and defeated. Her body was marred, her mind a prison, and her life… over as she knew it.
There were hours she couldn't account for, and that had her worried all over again. Just what she needed. Now she knew he had pictures and was taunting her with them. She had managed to avoid him. He was in his final semester which was mostly spent on auditions and internships. So, while he was mostly just helping out at the school, he was still around… and he wanted to see her.
She didn't know what to do. Jasper had pictures of her that, if they got out, could ruin her. He knew that, and he could use that.
Tell anyone and I'll use these for more than my own fun, he wrote.
What do you want? She gave in and asked him.
She just wanted to die. But she had to meet him, didn't she? Or he might do something.
Meet me in the dance studio. 8pm Friday night. We need to talk.
After returning to school, she tried to stick with a group of people throughout the day at school, and he wouldn't – hopefully – show up at the restaurant. Jasper may not have been around as much now that he only popped in for an occasional class with Cassie (which she wasn't in this term) and rumors spread that he got a small role in an off-Broadway production of The Play That Goes Wrong.
She was trying to cover all bases, but the preparation didn't stop the worry, and she knew her friends were obviously concerned. Once that text came, she lost it. She couldn't explain exactly what was happening to her in that moment, just that she felt like she was dying and there was nothing she could do to stop it.
The next morning, she went to class with Kurt, clinging to him and unwilling to speak about what happened, though he did try to get her to spill. Despite the clear concern in his eyes, she just couldn't, but there was no acting her way out of it. Something was wrong and they knew it now. It was just a matter of getting through it without having to give a real explanation.
Now, even if she felt comfortable sharing her shame, she didn't feel like she could. If she did and he found out… No. There was just no way she was going to let those photos get out.
When Kurt left her at school and she was told she wasn't needed for the extra shift she picked up at work, Rachel wasn't sure how to handle things. Despite that being all she wanted for weeks, she didn't want to be left alone now. It terrified her to leave herself open, so when Kurt headed home, and she had to stay for another class, she practically shook the whole time.
Then the entire subway ride to Bushwick had her on edge. Thankfully it wasn't crowded, and she sat in a position that let her see everyone around her coming and going. But it was hard to always be on alert.
It just made her mentally and physically exhausted beyond anything she experienced before. It was so constant and so draining. She didn't know what to do about it – much like everything else in her life.
She was a mess.
Somehow, she made it home, and a part of her wasn't surprised when she found Quinn there with Santana and Kurt, huddled around and clearly up to something.
"Quinn," Rachel squealed, moving to greet her friend and wrap her in a hug.
That was the normal thing to do, right, Rachel questioned.
"Hey, Rachel. It's good to see you," Quinn responded in kind, returning the hug.
Releasing Quinn, Rachel looked around the room, suddenly bewildered by the appearance of Shelby. Stepping back, she gave them all a curious look.
"What's going on here? Is this some kind of glee-vention like when you stopped me from doing the topless scene?"
No one responded, though it did give her the chance to see that Shelby's look. Honestly, the look on her face when she mentioned the topless scene was a little mortifying. Shelby still couldn't believe Rachel would even consider it.
"It is, isn't it? For me?" she asked. "Seriously? And you thought Shelby would be a good addition to the party?"
Her eyes wandered around, waiting for some response. Finally, Shelby broke the silence.
"Actually, Rachel, I just came to see you. I brought some things for you. Some records," she added. "Santana put the box in your room and allowed Quinn and I to have a little time to catch up and I could show her some photos of Beth. But I have no idea what else might be going on. I didn't know everyone would be here."
The young adults were all in on the plan. For it to work, Shelby couldn't be at the helm, but they wanted her a part of it. Like a pinch hitter, they would tag her in when needed.
For now, Shelby just had to be on the periphery, but she wasn't willing to step away. Rachel's terms were important, but she had to be the adult in the relationship too.
"Oh… Thanks? I guess. You didn't need to."
"I wanted to," Shelby insisted. "You mentioned losing a lot of your vinyl collection, so I brought over a variety. They're yours if you want them and, whatever you don't want you can donate or whatever."
Rachel nodded, unsure what to do. On one hand, she was absolutely thankful Shelby was there because she didn't really want to deal with whatever intervention was happening. She didn't know how to lie her way out of it and was more terrified than ever to breath a word about what happened. On the other hand, Shelby was Shelby. Despite doing a kind thing, it just felt like a way to make her presence known.
Rachel was all kinds of conflicted.
"Is something going on?" Shelby asked. "That brought all your friends here worried about you?"
"What? No… Of course not," Rachel responded.
Her friends remained quiet.
Rachel didn't know their plan. They were going to start with one problem and hope it revealed all.
"Rach," Kurt started. "We're worried about you."
"Why?"
"You haven't been yourself," Santana added.
"They called me here because they were worried about you," Quinn said.
"Good to know that's how to get you to visit," Rachel huffed.
"You know that's not the only reason I'm here. I've been meaning to come. I've just been busy, and so have you. But when you need me," she said sincerely, "I'll always be there."
Rachel was quickly on the offensive. She didn't want to be bombarded, and even less so with Shelby there.
"All this was very unnecessary. I'm totally fine."
"Right, so the little exorcist act last night is par for the course in Diva-land, then…"
"Santana…"
"Do you even remember what happened last night?" Santana asked, inching closer to Rachel. "Because I don't think I'll ever forget it."
Ashamed, Rachel just bowed her head.
"Diva, we're just worried about you. Talk to us. What's going on?"
Snapping back, Rachel asked, "If this is an intervention, shouldn't you know what you're intervening on?"
"Hon," Shelby stepped in, "I don't know what's going on, but your friends seem worried about you. To be honest, now so am I. Maybe you should hear them out."
"What are you still doing here, Shelby? Really? I appreciate you taking the time and making the effort to bring the records, but you did that. I thanked you. Why are you still here?"
"Rachel! She did a nice thing, don't drag her into this," Kurt chastised.
"Didn't you already drag her into this?"
Huffing, Santana moved in front of Rachel and put her hand on the girl's shoulder, ready to push her into the seat and make her listen.
"Don't touch me," Rachel cried, pulling away.
"I'm sorry," Santana said, holding her hands up and backing away.
"No, I'm sorry," Rachel responded. "Just… Say what you guys need to say so we can move on. What am I doing wrong now?"
"Sit down… Please," Kurt pled.
Quinn, Santana, and Kurt sat on the couch as Rachel reluctantly sat on the armchair. Shelby hung back, leaning against the wall hoping Rachel wouldn't kick her out.
"Well, get on with it," Rachel urged.
She wanted this over.
"We're worried about you," Quinn started.
"You've all said that already."
Rachel sat there, arms crossed like a belligerent child armed with a heft attitude and a desire to run away.
"Fine. You want to jump right into it, let's jump," Santana said.
"You're acting batshit."
"Santana!" Both Kurt and Quinn yelled.
"I'll start," Kurt intervened.
He wasn't going to let Santana derail this because she couldn't deal with the attitude they knew Rachel would get when confronted.
They talked ahead of time and decided to focus on the two most concerning things that have been happening.
"You've been drinking a lot lately," Kurt told her. "Like a lot."
"I have not," Rachel immediately proclaimed.
"You've blacked out at least three times in the past month. At least."
"When?"
"Around your birthday."
"New Year's Eve," Santana added.
"I think you called me drunk a few weeks ago… You mumbled a lot and mentioned Finn."
"I did?" Rachel asked.
She hadn't realized just how much she had been drinking. Yes, she knew she drank more than she had before. She didn't have any cravings to drink. Maybe on some level, she had been over-indulging even… definitely more than just party occasions.
Did that make her an alcoholic? Was that another disaster to add to her growing list of problems?
She wasn't ready to say she was an addict. She had and could go without alcohol, but, lately, that had been the only thing that could help her sleep at night when the thoughts became too much.
It was pure self-medication. Healthy? God no, but what was she to do? No other coping mechanism dulled things just enough to give her much needed rest. She had come to rely on it a bit too much. That she could admit.
But she could stop…
Was that denial? She didn't think so, but what did she know at this point? It was like she was gaslighting herself into believe she had a problem. Hell, maybe she did.
"You drank a lot while you were with my family," Shelby quietly added.
"I didn't black out," Rachel defended.
"I didn't say you did."
"We're just concerned that you're drinking so much."
"We all drink," Rachel countered.
"We do… Occasionally. Mostly socially when we go to parties. Not that that makes it right."
Kurt was rethinking having Shelby around for this. They were all underage and now it just felt uncomfortable.
"Relax, Kurt," Shelby said as if reading his thoughts. "I'm not here to judge you. I was young-er… younger once. I know people drink."
"Rachel," Quinn tagged in, "Santana called me last night in a panic because she honestly thought you were dying."
"Do you remember any of it?" Kurt asked.
"I'd rather not," Rachel mumbled, picking at the bandage on her palm.
She had picked at it all day until she ripped open the cuts again. A lovely reminder of her little… tantrum last night.
"I think you need to, Rach," Quinn told her.
"When did the panic attacks start happening? I don't remember you ever having them before… Except for when you choked at your audition. But even then, it wasn't like that?"
Rachel shook her head, unsure what to say.
"They don't happen often," she explained.
Shelby took the time to step in then, joining them on the couch.
"But they have been happening more regularly, no? That day in the diner? At my parents' house?"
"You had one then too?"
"They started after Finn died…"
Between the mention of her panic attacks and the drinking, they had unknowingly given her the "get out of jail free" card she had been looking for. She couldn't tell them what really happened… Not now. Not with Jasper holding the leverage, but she could use this to get them off her back and, hopefully, keep them safe.
Smiling a bit of a maniacal smirk, Rachel looked around to her friends and said, "I don't think I have a problem, but I do agree I've been drinking too much. I've been very stressed and anxious with everything going on. School, work, working at school, trying to look for summer internships already… It's just been a lot, and I haven't been taking it seriously. The anxiety… Sometimes it just feels like I can't shut my brain off, so I have a glass of wine and when we're already drinking, maybe I go a bit too far."
"I'm glad you recognize that, Rachel."
"I'm not an alcoholic," she clarified.
"We don't think you are, hon. We are just worried that's where it's headed."
"I'll stop… I will. I don't need to drink. It just helped with the stress."
"And what about the panic attacks? You can't keep going like this?"
"I… I have a therapist here in New York. I haven't seen her in a while, but I can give her a call. I can sort this out."
"Good. That's a good first step."
"We'll help you however we can," Kurt added.
"Yeah, Midget… Don't read too much into this, but you scared the crap out of me. I… Don't always like you, but you're like a sister to me and I don't want you to die."
"Thanks?"
Quinn laughed and said, "I think what she means is that we love you and wasted a lot of time in the past trying not to, but we do, and we just want you to be ok."
Rachel nodded and together, the group made a plan for Rachel. She jumped on the chance, because at least it was something she could take control of. She could take these steps. Nothing would change, but at least she would be occupied and convince them that she was fine. She would still have the Jasper problem, but she wouldn't have to share her shame or see how they would react when they found out what she did… what she let happen.
Come the end of the intervention, and Shelby was heading out.
"I'm so proud of you Rachel. You are so strong. Stronger than you realize. I'm glad you're taking care of yourself."
"Thanks."
"I know things haven't been great between us, but I am here for you… Whatever you need, just let me know."
"I'm ok for now. Thank you. I appreciate it."
"Well, what about we start slow… Dinner sometime? You can come over to mine, or we could go out. Whatever you choose."
"I… I guess. Give me a little time. You know… to figure some things out, but then yes."
"Great," Shelby said with a huge grin. "I hope to see you soon. Take care of yourself."
During the glee-vention, Shelby, Shelby was so immersed in the back and forth that she missed a message from her father.
Your mom and I are on our way to NY. We need to talk.