Author's Note: I have no idea where this story is going, let alone how long it will be. It's just something that's been plaguing me for awhile now-that I knew if I didn't write soon, would drive me insane.
Warnings: Language, explicit sexual content, mentions of rape, and possible substance abuse.
Spoilers: Takes place after 'theatrically.'
Rachel Barry was never one for parties, but after the day she'd had, she needed to do something, something to keep her from sinking into a even deeper despair then she was already in. She needed to quell her burning thoughts and as she downed drink after drink, noting that after the third-the disgusting, burning taste seemed to dissipate into that of satisfaction, she was no longer feeling despair. She was feeling rather light, as if she were in a bubble and everything around her was suddenly funny.
Her teammates were scattered around Mike's house somewhere, all off to do their own thing and she was left alone, as it always was, as it should be. She glances into her red, plastic cup and sighs when she realizes there is only a bit left. Tipping it back, she finishes it off, slamming it down onto the counter and sauntering off towards the stairs. She should really lie down, because suddenly the world is spinning and she cannot walk in a straight line, let alone up the stairs without having to grip the railing, but somehow-somehow she finds her way into a bedroom and throws herself onto the empty bed, grateful for the darkness that engulfs her.
She kicks off her heels, courtesy of Kurt, who had pleaded to take her shopping earlier that day, and lets her head drop onto a pillow. Now that she is no longer pounding drink after drink, her senses clear, only a little bit and she finds the thoughts she'd tried so desperately to push away, fight their way back into her brain again.
She didn't want me. It was all wrong, everything was so wrong.
Rachel frowns at the thought and she feels tears clouding her vision as she wills herself not to cry, not to break down again. She honestly didn't understand it. Her mother, Shelby, didn't want her. She'd spent the time tracking Rachel down, playing with her emotions and getting her fucking hopes up, only to change her mind again and shoot her down.
Screw it, Rachel thinks bitterly. Screw her. If she doesn't want me, then why try and chase it? Why try chasing her? A sharp intake of breath pulls her out of her head as she looks up, finding someone standing at the edge of the bed. She assumes it's one of the glee members, checking to make sure the room's empty so they can screw whoever's willing, but when she realizes that person is alone and breathing rather heavily, her opinion changes.
"Someone's in here." She finds herself saying, well, slurring rather, and she slowly pushes herself into a seated position-long enough to find the person at the edge of the bed making their way towards her. Making the realization she should probably leave, she makes a move to get up, her foot getting tangled in with the bed sheets as she falls forward, into the arms of the unknown person. As she moves to get up, away from him, she winces. His grip on her arms is hard and heavy and aching and she feels her eyes burning with tears again. "I'm fi-fine, can you let go now please?" She murmurs, wriggling around in an attempt to escape his painful grasp. His hold tightens and she finds herself thrown back against the bed as he climbs on top of her. He doesn't speak, and as she moves to scream, a hand covers her mouth, the other fumbling with shirt-ripping the blouse so that the buttons have flown off. He removes the hand that is on her mouth, only to be replaced by rough, disgusting, slobbery kisses. She sucks in a sharp breath, eyes wide with fear as her stomach tingles. The hand that had been previously on her shirt, slides down to her skirt, pushing it up and pulling her underwear down. She squeezes her eyes shut, trying desperately to get away from him as she feels him shift his body over top of her own. The tears fall as muffled, yet desperate pleas escape her. They last only a moment before she stiffens completely, her body going limp, her jaw going slack, and her eyes so wide she's sure they're going to pop out of their sockets. Pain erupts from core, radiating through her entire body until he's up and gone from the room.
She lays there, her body still in shock as her mind tries to process what had just happened. She feels her stomach twist and jolt and she abruptly throws herself to the side of the bed, vomiting onto the floor. When she's sure her stomach is empty, she pulls her body up and off the bed, fixing her skirt with one hand while she holds her shirt closed with the other. When she's sure she is as covered as she can get, she picks up her heels, sliding them back on her feet with whatever energy she can muster. Her legs shake as she stands up, testing her weight a moment before she opens the door, back to the raging party that has continued to go on downstairs. She scoffs in disbelief, amazed at how everyone can just keep on going as if what had just happened to her, didn't matter. But then she thinks, rationally, that there's a slim chance any of them had any clue as to what had happened only a few moments ago. She sniffles, wiping at her eyes before she heads towards the front door, not uttering a word to a single person before she flings herself onto the street.
In all honesty, Rachel thinks, Shelby Corcoran is the last person she wants to see at that moment in time, but she's still her mother, regardless, and that's exactly what Rachel needs right now. A mother. That, and it doesn't help the fact her fathers are on a business trip in Hawaii for two weeks, leaving her alone.
As she glances back at the house behind her, she breathes a sigh of relief. Shelby only lived a few blocks down the street, she'd noticed this because as she headed to Mike's party with Mercedes and Kurt, Rachel had noticed Shelby's range rover sitting in the driveway of a house a few blocks back.
Taking a deep breath, Rachel nods to herself.
Okay, she thinks silently. I just need to get to Shelby's, once I'm there-everything will be okay. Surely she cannot turn me away after…what happened.
Her stomach turns again and Rachel has to pause a moment once she gets to the end of the street, to vomit again. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she groans miserably, cursing herself for not bringing her cell phone.
The walk is long and tedious, at least it is in Rachel's mind, but she slowly finds herself making her way to Shelby's doorstep, pounding desperately against the paint-covered door until it opens, and she's standing there wide eyed, mouth open in shock.
"Rachel?" She asks. No reply. Rachel, exhausted and a sobbing mess, finds herself falling in a heap into Shelby's arms. Shelby sucks in a sharp breath, unsure of what had just gone on, hell, what was going on, but drags her daughter into the living room none-the-less. It's two am, and Rachel wouldn't just show up like this unless it was important, would she?
As Shelby sits Rachel on the couch, placing a blanket over the shaking girl, she heads into the kitchen to make tea and draw up every possibility as to why her daughter was on her couch, sobbing wildly. As the pot goes off, Shelby pours the tea into two mugs, taking one into the young girl on her couch, and keeping one for herself as she takes a spot beside Rachel, who has substantially calmed down. She wasn't sobbing anymore, but she was still crying-an occasional whimper falling from her lips. Shelby couldn't help but feel something tugging at her heart. Was it worry?
No, she thought to herself. It couldn't be worry. Not for a girl, a daughter she didn't know.
"Rachel," She finds herself asking-a small hand resting on the younger girl's covered forearm. "Rachel, what's going on?"
Rachel shakes her head, curling her body into Shelby's as she begins sobbing again, loud, disgusting sobs that are causing her breathing to become uneven. Shelby runs a hand through Rachel's hair, both shocked and slightly terrified at what was going on with her daughter. She winces slightly, wondering if it still might've been from their conversation earlier.
When Rachel calms down again, the words fall out in between gasps of air-and Shelby's almost unsure of what she had said until Rachel pulls back the blanket, revealing a mess of tattered, ripping clothing, smeared makeup, and messy hair and Shelby finds herself piecing it together until her own eyes are clouding with tears and she's staring at her daughter in disbelief.
This can't be happening, she muses as she turns on her blinker to shift lanes. Rachel is sitting in the passenger's seat, silent, with her arms across her chest. Shelby takes a moment to glance over at her, and she feels her eyes fill back up with tears. She may not know Rachel, but she's still her daughter, and she'll be damned if she let some bastard get away with doing what he had done. She turns the car off once they've pulled into a space in the hospital parking garage, and she waits a moment before resting a hand on Rachel's shoulder. Rachel jolts out of her thoughts as she glances over at Shelby, blinking a few times before she realizes where she was. She pops open the door, slowly sliding out of the seat until her feet have touched solid ground. She winces at the sharp pain that shoots through her body.
Shelby walks around the side of the car, taking her jacket off and sliding it over Rachel's shoulders before she kisses the top of her head lightly, surprising even herself. Rachel is still silent, and Shelby can't help but wonder where her father's are, why she didn't go to them.
She's about to ask until a nurse walks up to them, asking what they needed. This time, it's Shelby who is being pulled out of her thoughts, completely unaware they'd even entered the hospital. The words fall from her lips as she clutches Rachel's hand, voice shaky.
"My…" She pauses, sucking in a breath. "My daughter was raped."
The last word is so soft that she's not even sure if the nurse heard it at first, but when she feels Rachel slowly being pulled away from her, she knows that she has. As Shelby finds her way to the waiting room, she can feel her cold-hearted defense falling. She collapses into a chair, face in hands as she runs through the events of the past few hours and as it hits her, really hits her, she finds herself sobbing-not caring who sees her, because her daughter was just tormented in one of the worst ways possible and she wasn't there to help her.
She wasn't there to help her.
The words run through her head, a mantra on repeat, and she sobs harder.
Her daughter was raped, and she wasn't there to help her.