Before she knew it, she was picking up the razor, breaking it apart and pulling out the blade.
It hurt at first, but she soon realized that the pain made her feel more alive than anything else had.
She glanced at herself in the mirror; it was a horrible sight.
She looked haggard.
Her eyes were dull, her cheeks were sunken, her skin ashy.
It was probably from the lack of eating.
Or the lack of sleep.
How long has it been since she even attempted either?
A week? Two?
She didn't even bother trying to count.
Another cut.
She etched deeper for the third one.
She smiled a genuine smile, her first in what felt like forever, at the sight of the blood pooling on her wrist.
It made her feel... pretty.
It was something she could control, like her weight, her eating, her sleep habits.
It eventually got to the point that she was cutting every half hour.
A new cut for every slushie, every insult, every sneer, every glare.
Her arms looked like college ruled paper.
So she moved to her stomach, her thighs, her hips.
Anywhere she could press a blade to that nobody would see.
She began to use anything she could reach.
She even kept one of those things from a tape dispenser in her locker just for this.
She marveled at the sting of soap against the fresh wounds.
It felt amazing.
She didn't even need to change her clothing style to cover anything.
Regardless, nobody looked at her anyway, not even when they were throwing the corn syrup drink in her face.
The only thing that kept her going was knowing that she could just have the blade against her skin and nobody could stop her.
She hated Glee now.
She resigned from being captain.
Sat in the back.
Didn't sing.
She didn't even say a word when Kurt said, quite loudly, that it was just a "cry for attention."
He'd know exactly what it was soon enough.
It made her so happy to know that it would soon be over.
Exactly one week from that afternoon, she'd be okay.
For that last week, she did everything she knew she'd never be able to do in one more week.
She got drunk, had sex, tried drugs and cursed people out for absolutely nothing.
Nobody knew her anymore.
They told her so.
But they didn't understand that she didn't care anymore.
They had their chance to make things right.
They, as Finn said, blew it.
She wondered how many of them would be at her funeral.
Most likely none of them.
Mr. Schue might show up, wondering who he'd replace her with.
The petite knew that was all they wanted her for.
They all knew she could just wing a song at the drop of a hat.
It was, she knew, the only reason why they kept her around anymore.
The last week came and went.
That afternoon came.
She went to Glee.
Her very last time.
Didn't say a word.
Not.
One.
Word.
She might have shed a few tears when Tina glanced at her.
The Asian girl knew, she realized.
She was giving her the 'please don't do anything foolish' look.
She shook her head, giving her the 'I'm sorry' look back.
Then, when there was only five minutes left, she stood up from her seat.
Mr. Schuester stopped talking and looked at her.
A few of the other members sighed.
She heard a 'what now?' whispered.
She took a breath and stepped down, walking over to the front of the room.
And took off her cardigan.
The gasp all around the room could have been heard for miles.
She looked every single one of them in the eyes, explaining with that look exactly what they had driven her to.
Self-harm, self-destruction and self-mutilation.
But no more, she told herself.
This was it.
It was the end.
When she knew they all understood what they did, she picked her cardigan up and put it back on.
And walked out of the room.
She'd like to say that this was the part where they all came running after her, crying and apologizing.
But they didn't.
She knew they wouldn't.
It didn't surprise her.
It wouldn't surprise her if they all thought she had bought a body-tight skin-coloured suit and coloured the scars on it.
But they would know soon enough that it wasn't a suit.
It was her.
Her skin.
That she had cut and chopped and shredded.
They had caused her downfall.
But they didn't suffer from it.
Not at all.
Just her.
She took the pills at her locker.
The entire bottle.
She saved it just for this.
Slowly, the brunette began to put her books in her bag, emptying her locker.
It took her about half an hour.
She could feel the sleeping pills kicking in.
It got harder to keep her eyes open.
It would be the first time she'd slept in almost a month.
She heard the footsteps behind her.
"Really, Rachel?"
A hand was on her shoulder, forcefully pulling her around to face everyone.
All eleven of the other Glee members were there.
Some had tears in their eyes.
Some were glaring at her.
Some were in shock.
She shook her head.
"Five minutes earlier and you could have stopped this. You're too late."
She saw the fear and panic register on their faces.
"Too late..." she saw Finn whisper.
She wishes she could say that was the moment she passed out and died.
But it's not.
That has yet to come.
Finn reacted to her "too late."
She was told he grabbed her and ran the entire five miles to the hospital carrying her.
He "did it out of love" is what everyone said.
"Bullshit" she said back.
She knew it was because he knew they needed her voice.
Not her.
But even as she sat in the hospital bed, she was already planning the next time.
This time, it'd be foolproof.
She would definitely be going from this one.
No way she was letting some Finn Hudson ruin her plans.