AN: Obviously I am not Ryan Murphy and have no claim to Glee. If I was and if I did, Puck would appear in every scene with minimal clothing and maybe (finally) get to sing lead with Rachel. Oh, and Kurt would have a boyfriend already :)

Rachel came to slowly, struggling to wake against the thick fuzziness suppressing her consciousness. Rapidly blinked heavy eyelids, her senses attempted to sharpen their focus. A minute later, she managed to open her eyes and found herself staring up at an unfamiliar ceiling. The light in the room was subdued and as she bunched her fingers into the quilted fabric of the comforter she lay on, her head turned to take stock of her surroundings.

It was a bedroom she didn't recognize. Quite large in area, the walls were painted a dark hunter green, the furniture- a dresser & matching bedside tables to the wooden bed frame, upon which she lay - were sturdy and generic in their simplicity. There were no paintings or pictures, no knick knacks or personal effects that could shed some light on her current location.

Her temple throbbed and she lifted a limp hand to rub soothingly at her forehead. As the dull roar that sounded definitely around her eardrums seemed to diminish, she was assaulted by a number of noises and sensations at once. The muffled sound of music pumping from amps was mingling with laughter from somewhere below, the steady *thump, thump* of the stereo's heavy bass vibrated against the walls.

Matt's party.

She groaned and shook her head, willing the fog currently containing her awareness to disappear once and for all. A niggling voice at the back of her mind was trying to tell her that something was wrong. Very wrong. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she rose up on shaky elbows. As she looked down at her body, Rachel felt the panic begin to well in her chest as she became aware of three terrifying facts.

1) She was naked from the waist up, with her favourite lilac lace bra pushed up over her small breasts. Her black silk camisole top was discarded to her side, strewn haphazardly over a stray pillow.

2) While she was still wearing the short denim skirt and the black strappy heels she had painstakingly selected with care earlier that evening, the dark material was pooled around her waist, with the matching panties to her bra missing.

3) Confirmation of the horror she was just beginning to grasp, was the painful stabbing between the juncture of her legs and as she jerked upright, the telltale smear of blood on her inner thigh.

Letting out a hysterical sob, Rachel jumped up from the bed only to nearly double over in surprise when her groin twinged in protest at her movements. Swallowing a gasp, she wildly took stock of the room to ensure that there was no immediate danger. Satisfied that she was (for the moment) alone, the brunette righted her clothing with shaking hands. Grabbing for her top, she sprinted on unsteady legs towards a closed door by the window side of the bed that her addled brain (united momentarily with her flight response) assured her must either be a bathroom or a closet.

Miraculously it was an adjourning bathroom and with a second sob bubbling up and escaping chafed lips, she flung the door shut behind her, wasting precious seconds fumbling with the lock. Once secure, there was no recourse but to slide down the wall and crumple to the floor, surrendering to her fright in a burst of hysterical tears.

She was bruised and broken, and at that moment, Rachel was sure she had never felt more alone in her entire life.