Glee Fanfiction: Angel Girl

Paring: Faberritana

Rating: M/NC-17

Summary: Rachel Berry is the laughing stock of the school. She dresses funny, her nose is too big, she's shy and she's smart. But Rachel has a dark secret, one that she'll never tell. Can the three girls who have tormented her through-out high school bring her out of the shadows and into the light? Will she be their angel?

Disclaimer: I do not own Glee, or any original Glee characters. I only own Eddie and Rose. I also do not own the song Concrete Angel, that's all Martina McBride.

A.N. Ok, everyone, this story deals with some pretty heavy shit. There will be GRAPHIC descriptions of abuse and semi-graphic descriptions of rape. If you can't handle that, then please DO NOT READ. You have been warned.

A.N. 2: I'm changing the story a little; Rachel is still adopted, but she only has one father, who is not gay. Quinn, Santana and Brittany have been her tormentors, but only because they are all in love with her (of course :D). I'm also moving the story line ahead a bit, so all our girls are in Senior year, therefore making sex completely legal (as the girls are all going to be either 18 or turning 18 in this story) just in case.

A.N. 3 (final one, I promise): I DO NOT like Finn or Mr. Shue, so there will be some serious bashing of both parties. Yet again, you have been warned.

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Prologue: Fallen Angels

November, 1998

From the outside, the house looked perfect, warm, inviting, The lawn was mowed, the paint fresh and cheerful, the flowers colorful and healthy. On the outside, they looked like the perfect family, even though there was no mother, they looked happy and whole.

On this inside, two young girls, twins, cower in a corner of a dirty living room, watching their father with wary eyes. They look to be about 5, but their eyes show jadedness that no child should ever have.

If you looked close enough, you could see the differences in the two girls. One was slightly skinnier, and had a tough determined and protective attitude, her arm wrapped around her twin in comfort. The other was the opposite, shorter, kinder, softer, somehow.

The man they are watching is pacing, a clear glass bottle in hand, muttering nonsense angrily. The twins knew he had already finished one bottle, and this current one was already half empty. He hadn't noticed them yet, but it was only a matter of time they knew.

Seconds passed, minutes. Each felt like a lifetime, until finally he caught site of them out of the corner of his eye, and smirked, an evil glint making them flinch. He advances on them, making them shrink further into the corner, until he reaches out and grabs the softer twin, shaking her like a ragdoll. She whimpers, and the stronger twin clenches her fists as she plows into his waist, grabbing his attention. He drops the softer twin, and her protector nods her head towards the stairs, telling her to hide in their room. Tears fall down the softer twins face as she walks towards the stairs, listening to the sound of a child's whimpers and fists hitting flesh.

March, 1999

The two girls sit on the corner of two busy streets, a beat-up dirty had on the ground while the two of them sing. They are smiling, happy even, to be away from their father momentarily. Happy to be singing. Every few minutes, a woman or man will drop some pennies or a quarter into their hat, pity in their eyes that the girls try to ignore.

Time passes by, and slowly it starts to get darker and darker. The softer twin carefully folds the dirty blanket they had been sitting on as her sister counts the change and slips it into their backpack. They had had enough money earlier to buy two cans of soup for dinner, and were saving the rest for tomorrow and the next day. It wasn't often they could escape the house, and they relished each and every time.

As they walked home, the softer twin told stories, of dragons and magic, of handsome knights for her sister and beautiful princesses for her, rescuing them from the evil king holding them hostage.

Nearing their prison, their smiles fade, and they hold hands to face the coming storm.

June, 1999

The softer twin looks through their barren kitchen, trying to find something for them to eat at school. She finds 3 pieces of bread, a packet of ketchup and a juice box. She carefully wraps the bread in a paper towel, and places the items in a plastic bag from the grocery store. The stronger twin walks into the kitchen, carrying their one backpack with their school supplies. She smiles at her twin, and receives one in return, making both girls giggle lightly before they link their pinky fingers and run to catch the bus.

At school, they sit together in the back of their classroom, the tough twin looking bored and glaring at anyone glancing their way, while the softer twin dutifully and happily does whatever the teacher tells them.

The teacher watches the two girls, concern etched on her face. She's never seen either girl with bruises, but the signs are there nonetheless. Not wanting to accuse without evidence, she says nothing, and prays to God she is wrong.

At lunch time, the softer twin unpacks their lunch, giving her twin a slice of bread and taking one for herself. They both sip at the precious juice. When the two slices are gone, the tougher twin tries to make her sister take the last piece of bread, but the softer twin just spreads the ketchup over it and rips it in half. The tougher twin grumbles, but doesn't argue.

Christmas Eve, 2000

They are in their room, under a thin blanket with a dying flashlight. The softer sister uses the weak light to read from a beat up book while her sister holds her hand.

Suddenly their door bangs open and the blanket is yanked off of them. The softer twin is thrown against the wall as the book is grabbed. The last thing she sees is her sister getting picked up by the throat as her vision fades to black.

Christmas Morning, 2000

The softer twin wakes up, her head pounding and her tiny body sore. Blinking in the too-bright sunlight, she looks around and cries out.

Her sister, her beloved twin is lying across the room, her skin black and blue, covered in blood and her body contorted.

As the softer twin reaches her, she drops to her knees, shakily reaching out to touch her twin.

Her skin was cold.

She wasn't breathing.

Her heart no longer beat in time with hers.

Christmas, 2003

She hates Christmas. Every year, all Christmas means to her is another year without her other half, without her sister.

She promised her sister that no matter what, she would always fight, always achieve their dreams, so she fought. She survived. She kept their dream alive. But the day her sister died, a large part of her died too. She wasn't living. She was surviving.

Her father told everyone that they had been playing, the two sisters, on the edge of a rocky cliff. A slip, a bad fall. Nothing could have been done to save her. She had been dead before she hit the bottom. Tragic, simply tragic.

The funeral had been torture. It was a closed casket, but she'd had to stand next to her father, crying tears of pain while her father cried tears of mockery. She'd had to endure the hugs of people she'd never met, saying how sorry they were for her loss, avoiding eyes filled with emptiness and pity.

The tombstone her father had bought was the nicest thing he had ever done for her, even thought it was only for show. All polished white stone and black lettering, with a beautiful angel girl watching the heavens. The softer twi…girl had almost smiled, glad to see what her sister truly looked like now.

Now she sat in their room – now only hers – looking blankly up at the ceiling, remembering the stories she used to read to her twin. The door opened, and she tensed, knowing who was coming into the room.

He sat on the bed – something she wasn't expecting. She could smell the alcohol on his breath, acrid, lurid, stinging. Suddenly, she felt his hands on her body, running up and down, almost gently. She had a sick feeling growing in her stomach.

He began talking slowly, slurring, calling her different names than he usually did. His touches started getting rougher, slipping under her clothing, squeezing, pinching, grabbing her breasts. One hand slipped under her pants, the other hand leaving her body. She heard a zipper being lowered, and squeezed her eyes shut as his fingers began….touching her.

His breathing got heavier, becoming grunts. She felt bile rising in her throat; he was touching himself, while touching her, forcing his thick, harsh fingers inside her body. Her tears fell silently, unbidden.

It felt like hours before it was over, before he stopped touching her, patted her on the shoulder and left the room.

Her tears didn't stop, but her heart felt like it had.

August, 2006

Everything had started normal, him coming into her room, touching her.

Tonight was different. This time, he didn't touch himself. Dread built in her stomach, like the first time 3 years ago. She knew what was coming. He had promised that one day…one day he would…

He unzipped his pants. She looked away, desperate to think of something to take her away from this place, from this hell. As he pulled off her pants, her underwear, she thought of the beautiful princesses she had dreamed would take her away from here. As he forced himself inside her, she cried out in pain, horrible pain, only to be slapped hard across the face. He started moving, thrusting. Every time she made a sound, he would hit her, punch her, so she stared at the ceiling, thinking of her sister, thinking of the only good thing she had ever had.

When he finished this time, he told her what a good little slut she had been and laughed. He walked out of the room, taking the very last shred of her innocence with him.

September, 2008

It was the first day of her second year in High School. You would think that she would hate it; she was on the bottom of the totem pole, a loser, hated or at the very least disliked by almost everyone in school, slushied every day, called names like 'man-hands', 'treasure trail' and 'yentil'.

But she loved high school. Even though she was disliked, even though she had no friends, for 8 hours a day, 5 days a week, she got to learn, she got to be away from her father, she got to sing. Glee was her haven.

And even more than that, she got to see them. You see, she'd fallen in love, three times over. It didn't matter that they hated her more than anyone else in the school. It didn't matter that loving 3 women at once made her even more of a freak. It didn't matter that she'd never do anything about it anyway. She knew that she could love. She knew that she wasn't her father, and for that, she would love them in silence for the rest of her life, and more.

Looking up at the entrance of McKinnley High School, Rachel Berry, took a deep breath, slipped on her school persona, and smiled as she walked into another day of her life.