"Seven men were brutally beaten last night in the JacobVille neighborhood. The seven were found by police with their wrists tied to a staircase railing after an anonymous call. The victims claimed they had been attacked by vigilantes. They appear to be a pair of criminals who operate in the city. However, witnesses said that the vigilantes had acted after a couple had been cornered and threatened by the men..."

"Turn it off!" Finn ordered.

Kurt didn't question his brother, and picked up the remote control to turn off the television. He looked around with distress. Finn was standing in the corner of the room, almost paralyzed, while Kurt was sitting next to the hospital bed and feeling terribly helpless. On top of that bed was Rachel Berry. The student was asleep due to heavy sedation to help her body recover more quickly from a series of assaults. Her arm was in a cast and her face was disfigured. Rachel underwent surgery to stop internal bleeding, as well as having to recover from the sexual assault she suffered. She was brutalized in a terrible way, but it wasn't reported and wouldn't have made the headlines if it had been for Burt Hummel's actions at the request of his stepson and son.

"I don't know why people are idolizing these thugs." Finn grumbled.

"Because they're doing what people would like to do, but are afraid of." Kurt said without really getting into the merits.

"They don't save anyone. They beat them up and leave. They're fakes."

"They saved Tina after wiping out an entire arm of the mafia."

"They didn't save Tina. She was just in the way. They would never save Rachel." Finn shouted and punched the patient's feeding table.

Kurt stood up alertly. The noise caught the attention of a nurse.

"Is everything all right here?" The nurse asked, eyeing the two young men. It wasn't uncommon for patients or their caregivers to lose control. That's why it was important to be attentive and willing to call security without hesitation.

"It's nothing. We're just upset." Kurt tried to justify, since Finn wasn't in a position to rationalize with anyone.

"Right... the next time you feel upset like that, it'd better be outside, or we'll call someone to make you upset outside."

"It won't happen again." Kurt promised.

The nurse took the opportunity to quickly check Rachel's vital signs, made a few notes and left the room, promising to return in half an hour to administer medication. Kurt just looked at Finn, who was forced to back away. The former quarterback approached the hospital bed and held his girlfriend's hand.

"I failed you." Finn wiped a tear from his cheek. "I should have gone to see you sing and waited for you to leave. I failed you."

"We've all failed." Kurt tried to console his brother, even though he knew it would be fruitless.

A black man entered the room. He didn't say a word to the other two boys, and went straight to the side of Rachel's bed. The man, who appeared to be in his 50s, bowed his head and gently held her hand. Kurt and Finn were silent for a minute, respecting the man's space and moment.

"How did this happen?" he asked no one in particular.

"Mr. Berry..." Kurt said cautiously. "I'm sorry."

The man rolled his eyes. Mr. Berry? He wasn't Mr. Berry! Hiram was Mr. Berry. Leroy's surname was Jameson. He pretended not to mind being called Mr. Berry while he was married to Hiram, but those boys definitely never paid attention to that detail.

"How?" Leroy repeated with more energy.

"Rachel was attacked practically outside our place. A man who works at the convenience store on our block found her in the alley next door. We don't know for sure, but we think more than one person did it."

"Not a person." Leroy Jameson said between his teeth, trying to contain his own pain. "Monsters! Only monsters are capable of doing that to my little girl."

"I agree." Kurt said in a low tone.

"Mr. Berry." Finn tried to approach.

"Don't talk to me, boy." Hiram signaled for Finn not to come any closer. "You broke your promise. You assured me that no harm would come to her."

Finn bowed his head to Rachel Berry's father. Yes, he had broken his promise. It didn't take much to remember the exact moment. Rachel was a native of that metropolis, but she and her friends lived in the comfortable suburbs. Rachel was never interested in leaving that little world while she was at school. Not even when Hiram Berry and Leroy Jameson split up: Rachel chose to live with Leroy, her adoptive father, over her biological father, and also stay with her friends.

As soon as Rachel, Finn and Kurt graduated from high school, even though they weren't accepted at the State University or the art institutes they wanted, they decided to live closer to the city center, away from their parents' house. Leroy didn't take these plans very well. He found himself alone and abandoned, even though rationally he knew that Rachel's moving out was a natural part of her growing into adulthood. This made Rachel's move less than ideal. Finn, witnessing the fight between father and daughter when she left home, he confronted Leroy and told the older man not to worry, because he guaranteed that nothing bad would happen to Rachel. That promise was three years in the making.

Unfortunately, Finn didn't have very well-developed emotional intelligence, and that gentleman's bitter words hit him like a stab in the heart. Finn stormed out of the ward. He needed to breathe, not only because of Leroy Jameson's accusation, but also because he felt miserable himself. The rage in his chest was so throbbing that Finn thought he might explode if he didn't scream or kick something. He chose a garbage can in front of the hospital entrance to vent his anger.

"Hey, man. What's up with you?"

Finn looked in the direction of the male voice. It was a young oriental man who approached him.

"No, man, I'm not. But that's none of your business."

"Okay." The oriental man raised his hands. "Of course it's none of my business, but who is the person you care about in hospital?"

"My girlfriend."

"That's bad. What's her condition?" Seeing that Finn wouldn't answer, the young man introduced himself. "Look, my name is Mike Chang. I volunteer at this hospital, you know? Once a week I come here to play with the children in the pediatric ward. So, I know a lot of people in there. Maybe I can help you."

"No need." Finn calmed down a little more. "My girlfriend's condition is serious, I think. But the doctor who treated her said she's stable."

"Stable is good."

"I think so."

"Can I ask what happened?"

"She was beaten up."

"Oh... that's terrible. I'm so sorry."

Finn just nodded at the young man who was trying to be helpful. However good Mike's intentions were in sympathizing with a stranger, the truth was that Finn needed to be alone. The urge to shout or kick something else partly passed. He walked down the block where the city's only public hospital was located. The largest building in the neighborhood was, of course, the hospital itself, which occupied a significant area. There was also a commercial building in the neighborhood where several medical clinics, pharmacies and laboratories operated. On the busy block, there were also several smaller buildings with offices, small businesses and small apartments. Finn walked through the streets without necessarily paying attention to the movement. He didn't like that part of the city precisely because of the heavy traffic of vehicles and people. Guilt was eating away at him, even though he had no responsibility for the attack Rachel had suffered. He walked around and around the block to purge the pain. His mind was so far away that he barely noticed his cell phone ringing.

"She's awake." - Kurt.

Finn's heart raced and, from where he was standing, he just changed direction and ran back to the hospital. Finn wasn't exactly in top shape, but his fast pace meant that he almost had a run-in with one of the security guards at the hospital entrance, who demanded that he identify himself and slow down.

When he returned to the room, he found the doctor and nurse removing Rachel's breathing tube. It took Leroy and Kurt to get in front of him so that Finn wouldn't get in the way. He waited anxiously for the doctor and nurse to carry out some trivial tests on Rachel.

"Everything seems to be in order as far as possible. You'll feel discomfort in your throat, so avoid trying to talk for the rest of the day. If you understand, blink once." The doctor said to Rachel, who obeyed the command. The doctor then addressed the three men in the corner of the room. "Rachel's neurology is in apparent order, her heart rate is good, her oxygenation is good. She has no fever. Obviously, the trauma she suffered will need time to heal, but I can tell you that clinically she is stable and out of danger."

"Can you say when she'll be able to go home?" Leroy asked.

"We still need to remove the drain and carry out some more tests to make sure we haven't missed anything. If her condition continues to improve, Rachel will be able to go home in two or three days."

The three men greeted the doctor, grateful that he had saved Rachel's life. Then Finn broke away from the small group and headed towards the hospital bed. Rachel had the same hideous bruises that had disfigured her face, but her eyes were open and she was no longer intubated. That horrible device had been replaced by a thin oxygen tube placed in her nose.

"Hi." Finn said softly, holding his girlfriend's unplastered hand.

"Hi." Rachel's voice came out hoarse, tired, unrecognizable.

"Hey, don't try to talk now." Leroy caught his daughter's eye. "You heard the doctor: the tube hurt your throat." He explained, trying to be gentle and rational. "I know it's hard for you, but try not to talk for now. You need to heal, sweetheart. That's the most important thing right now."

Finn continued to hold his girlfriend's hand tightly. He wished he could say something sweet and comforting, but all he did was cry. He cried because of his girlfriend's condition, he cried because he couldn't do anything about it, he cried because it had happened in the first place.

...

"The play is postponed." Schuester announced to the cast.

"Why?" Mercedes asked.

"Because a tragedy has happened. Rachel was the victim of an assault, and she's not going to recover any time soon."

Santana and Mercedes stared at each other. They didn't know anything, but apparently the rest of the cast knew something.

"Schuester, was she really hurt that badly?" Mercedes worried.

"They broke her arm and beat her up. It was bad." Schuester said, trying to control his emotions. "Finn and Kurt are with her at the hospital."

"Will we be able to see her?" Sam wondered.

"Kurt said it wouldn't be appropriate. Rachel doesn't want any visitors apart from her father, Finn and Kurt. What we can do is wait until she recovers and feels comfortable enough to see us."

"I'm sorry to seem insensitive about the tragedy..." Santana raised her hand. "But isn't Tina Rachel's understudy?"

"Yes." Schuester replied.

"Shouldn't the show go on?"

"Oh my God!" Tina reproached. "You're diabolical."

"I understand that Rachel is important to you all and everything. I sympathize with her and her family. And I also know that she is professional. So shouldn't we go ahead exactly to honor her?"

"Looking at it that way, I kind of agree with Satan." Mercedes put her hand on her best friend's shoulder in support. All because she knew Santana so well, she understood that Santana's difficulty in expressing her emotions in front of strangers sometimes made her seem indifferent to others.

"Santana, we're not professional actors. We're not earning a penny to be here. You know that."

"Isn't this play sponsored by Kurt's father?" Santana asked.

"Yes, it does. But that money is to pay for the production, not for salaries. That's why we don't have an obligation to carry on when one of our own is injured. Besides, Rachel didn't catch a cold. She's in a hospital bed right now."

"But aren't there expenses and contracts? What are you going to do with all that? Then, the play can be rescheduled for a date when Mercedes and I, and even Tina, will no longer be available because of college. Or because we can return to our cities for the holidays."

"Everything is manageable, Santana."

"Let's have a vote." Mercedes suggested. "Raise your hand if you're in favor of continuing with the show."

Only the outsiders in that group, in other words Santana and Mercedes, raised their hands. Everyone else disagreed.

"The group has decided." Schuester banged his gavel.

"Rachel, Finn and Kurt aren't here to vote." Santana argued.

"Exactly, they're not." Matt grumbled.

"I'll give up our time slots and reservations to April Rhodes' group, and we'll meet next month on this very stage." Schuester closed the debate. "We need to stand in solidarity right now. One of our own is down for a really serious reason. That's why we need this break."

Santana and Mercedes did not comment to the group on their losing vote. Schuester's argument was solid in the sense that this was an amateur group. But Santana knew that Rachel was studying to become a professional actor, so she wasn't so sure that Rachel would want the show to stop. Not that Santana was excited about the play, since she was there because of Mercedes.

"The vigilantes failed this time." Tina commented casually on the way out of the theater. "They saved me, but they didn't save Rachel."

"It's the police who should be looking after the security of this city. Unfortunately, they don't do the job they should. That's why there are vigilantes out there." Mercedes argued with her colleague.

"What do you know about that?" Sam asked.

"No more than you know. But isn't that logical? Two people have decided to do the job that an entire police force should do. Still, it seems like a thankless mission to me, because a city like this is too big for just two people… apparently."

"You defend these vigilantes a lot." Sam made a disdainful face. "You almost seem like their spokesperson."

"I stand up for what I believe in."

"Wheezy." Santana held her friend's hand. "Forget it. This matter really isn't important."

Mercedes looked at Sam with a certain disdain. She thought Sam was the least annoying of the men in the group. He had more artistic talent than Finn, Matt, or the Irish guy, but on the other hand, he was the last in intelligence. Not that the others did well in that area.

Samuel Evans, or simply Sam, was a nerd who wasn't very smart, but had enviable athletic ability. Kurt once said that Sam had displaced Finn Hudson as the starting quarterback in high school. Neither of them went to college on scholarship because of the sport. Consequently, neither of them got into college. Finn was an auto mechanic, and Sam had a modest career as a model and was an assistant football coach at his old high school. Theater was just one way Sam found to stay in touch with his old gang from school. Of course, there was also Matt, who was the beta member of the group: the guy who never said anything but always wanted to be around.

"Would you like to go out with us?" Sam asked Mercedes specifically. "We're going to get coffee now."

"Someday, maybe. Just not today." Mercedes sighed.

"Okay, I understand."

Sam waved at Mercedes and Santana, and the group dispersed. The friends walked to Santana's old car without really talking. They were tired, frustrated, and impacted by the tragedy that had befallen the group. Even though Rachel was an annoying and strange figure in their eyes, neither of them would wish that kind of harm to happen to the actress or anyone else.

...

Quinn looked at the line for the day once more and found it strange. The coffee shop was busy, but something was missing. Someone. She recognized Kurt, who was passing by nearby. She knew he was Rachel's friend who didn't like to drink a lot of coffee, but who sometimes accompanied her in line. Quinn asked Joe to hold the work alone for 10 minutes, taking advantage of the fact that there wasn't much costumers at that time. She ran up to the young man whose name she didn't even know.

"Hey there." Quinn touched Kurt's shoulder, who stopped on his way to the classroom.

"Yeah?"

"You're Rachel Berry's friend, right?"

"Yeah, I am."

"Sorry, but I haven't seen her in days. Do you know what happened?"

Kurt pressed his lips together, as if he was unsure whether or not to say what had happened to the girl who sold coffee at the community college. Rachel didn't want any media coverage of the assaults she suffered. Not even when a reporter contacted her to get a statement about the horrific attack that he learned about through the police report issued to journalists. All that was published was a note about an attack on a 20-year-old woman who was assaulted and raped. Her name remained confidential, as was the nature of the investigation.

"Rachel was assaulted and she is badly hurt because of this." Kurt merely informed.

"Oh, that's terrible. I hope she can recover as soon as possible."

"Yes, that's what I hope too."

"When you see Rachel, please tell her that Quinn Fabray, from the cafeteria, sent her wishes for a speedy recovery."

"Thank you."

Kurt went his own way, while Quinn went back to doing her job.

Kurt was a business student at the community college. Unlike his best friend, he didn't have many artistic career ambitions. Kurt was well aware of his own qualities as a singer and actor. But he was also fully aware of who he was: a gay man with a thin voice and effeminate gestures. What chance would he have of an artistic career in roles that didn't involve the stereotype? That's why he used amateur theater as a hobby, but set his sights on a career that could be successful: the fashion world. Kurt wanted to own his own boutique, and as a plan B, he also considered being a personal stylist, especially for someone famous.

Kurt attended classes that day and, like Rachel, he hurried to a job that paid his share of the rent. It wasn't exactly out of necessity, since Kurt Hummel could consider himself economically privileged. His father, Burt Hummel, was a city councilman, and also a successful businessman, who owned a chain of mechanical workshops (and Finn worked at one of the stores). Burt could very well give his son an allowance, but Kurt was conscientious enough to know that an adult like him should only turn to his parents in case of need. So, while he was waiting for his own dreams to come true, he worked as a clerk in a clothing and accessories department store.

He arrived at work, put on the uniform he hated and accessed the priority tasks for the day, which he had to carry out in parallel with his daily tasks.

"Lady lips." Kurt heard the familiar voice coming from behind him as he organized the clothes.

"If it isn't Satan herself?"

"Aren't I the one who always turns up in the most unexpected places?" Santana smiled, but her face soon turned serious when a young woman approached and showed Santana a piece of clothing.

"What do you think of this one?" The young woman said.

"Um, I'm not sure." Santana made a face.

The young woman frowned and turned away to look for another piece. This allowed Santana to turn her attention back to Kurt.

"Your girlfriend?" He asked.

"No... just a girl from college. I didn't know you worked here."

"I didn't know you came here. You don't look like someone who goes to department stores."

"Do you think I'm rich by any chance? Okay, I avoid department stores because they don't have much personality."

"Where do you give vent to your personality?"

"There's that street of thrift stores on Oak Avenue that I really like."

"Oh, I know where it is. I love that place. You always find interesting pieces." Kurt smiled for a moment.

Santana reciprocated with another brief smile, and her face became serious again. "How is she?"

"Rachel?"

"Who else?"

Kurt wanted to give a curt answer, but thought twice. Santana had always shown in rehearsals that she didn't like Rachel, and had always made mean comments to her. However, given the circumstances, there was no point in Santana trying to provoke him.

"She's recovering." Kurt finally said.

"I'm glad to hear it. You know... Berry and I aren't compatible, but if I could do anything to make sure it never happened to her or any other woman, I would."

"Thank you."

Santana nodded and went to meet her supposed college friend. Kurt, in turn, sighed and continued working. The days that followed Rachel's attack were becoming increasingly difficult. He, Leroy and Finn took turns taking care of her, but it wasn't an easy situation. Kurt didn't know if Rachel would recover, even after a lot of therapy. All he could do was have a little hope.

...

Rachel looked out of her bedroom window. All the windows in the apartment she shared with Kurt overlooked the avenue. She could see from her bedroom window the exact spot where she had been attacked. Fortunately, the room she was in at the time was different, and the window had a different view. In a way, it was a relief not to have to face certain traumas so soon. Those marked on her body were enough.

Rachel avoided looking in the mirror, but in the week following the attack, she was able to walk, move the fingers on her broken arm, it didn't hurt so much to speak, and the other physical pains were under control with the help of medication. Her face still had black, purplish and green colors, but the swelling had improved to the point where it was now recognizable as Rachel Berry's.

The actress and singer still had a lot to overcome, not just in her physical rehabilitation. Leroy took a leave of absence from his job as a music teacher and conductor of the school band to look after his daughter. Hiram was on his way back the city. He said he would arrive at the weekend, even if he couldn't stay long due to his work schedule. Finn and Kurt were also taking turns looking after Rachel, even though neither of them were staying at the suburban house. Kurt couldn't because of his studies and work, and Finn was vetoed by Rachel, who didn't want her boyfriend in the same bed or room. Rachel felt suffocated when she saw Finn, which was not a good sign. These were things she would certainly have to work through with the psychologist who had been treating her since she was a child.

"Rachel, sweetie, the detectives are here." Leroy announced, knocking on the door of the old room where Rachel had spent her childhood and teenager years.

"One minute, please."

She looked at her own clothes to see if they were appropriate. Rachel had always worn a strange fashion, with blouses with conservative necklines and short skirts, as well as three-quarter socks. She would say it was a Japanese-based style with a Western twist. The kids at school, especially the cheerleaders, would say it was just a hideous style. Kurt agreed with the cheerleaders, and Finn loved the part about the short skirts his girlfriend wore. But at that moment, Rachel was only thinking about covering her body as best she could. Her emotional state was so shaken that she might consider wearing a hijab. In the absence of one, she thought sweatpants and a basic shirt were a good call. Rachel came out of her old bedroom and saw the detective and her father sitting on the sofa in the living room.

"Miss Berry." Detective Sarah Porter got up from the sofa to greet her. "I hope you're recovering well."

"Thank you." Rachel greeted her and sat down in the armchair.

"I'm here, Miss Berry, to take your statement on the case and to update you on the investigations."

"That was the deal..." Rachel said despondently.

Sarah Poter was the detective assigned to cases of violence against women and minorities. She had extensive experience in this field and her direct and frank way of expressing herself came from years of working on these cases: victims of violence didn't want sweet words and pats on the back: they wanted justice and straight talk. Detective Porter opened the folder she was carrying and showed it to Rachel.

"Miss Berry."

"Call me Rachel, please."

"Right... Rachel, the tests carried out by our forensics team were positive for signs of sexual assault. Or a lot more energetic sexual intercourse, as it were. We found traces of a person's semen, but that didn't correspond to the time of what happened."

"My boyfriend and I had sex the day before. And we're pretty basic in that sense."

"That explains the semen part, which allows us to make some eliminations. It also raises the hypothesis that the attacker used a condom. Forensics found a condom packet at the crime scene, and a partial fingerprint which didn't do much for us. The material we collected from under her fingernails showed no genetic material. The rush to save your life meant that other evidence that could have been found, such as pubic hair, was lost. Sorry."

"You didn't find the condom?" Leroy asked distressed.

"No." The detective was categorical. "The scenario shows us that this is someone who had a clear objective of what he wanted to do. This guy did some research to prevent forensics from catching him. He's certainly an intelligent man, and statistics show that it's possible he watched you for some time before attacking you."

"Do you think I know this guy?" Rachel was startled.

"Not necessarily. It could be that we're dealing with someone who is still in the early stages of exploring their sociopathy. That's why, Rachel, since we can't get any biological evidence, it's very important that you tell us what happened from your point of view."

"There's not much to say."

"Please try. In my experience, from the scenario we found, your assailant could make other victims."

Rachel glanced at the detective and closed her eyes for a moment. The detective was asking just what she most wanted to forget.

"I was coming home from work and a masked man said he was the vigilante..." Rachel allowed herself a minute's pause, and the detective respected her time. "He was a tall man, but not as tall as Finn. He was a fit man, I think, one of those slim, strong types. He told me to get out of the street, because there was danger, and pulled me into the alley, holding me from behind and putting his hand over my mouth."

"Did you believe him?" The detective asked.

"For a minute, yes... until he squeezed my breast and started pressing himself against my body. That's when I started fighting to get out of there... from that situation. I saw another man walking down the street, and I shouted for help, but my voice didn't come out properly. This man didn't listen to me. Then this vigilante started beating me up. I tried to fight back, but he was much stronger. When he broke my arm, I completely lost my strength. That's when I knew I couldn't stop it. I wasn't sure if I was going to live anymore. He... took his time. He was rough, and he wasn't in a hurry. When he finished, I passed out. I only woke up in hospital." Rachel wiped away her tears and got up from the sofa. "I'm sorry, detective, I can't do it anymore."

"It's all right. You've helped us a lot."

Rachel went back to her room. As much as rationally she understood the need to make the statement, emotionally it was like another assault, as it made her relive what she begged to forget.