Chapter 6: Devil In Her Heart

After apologizing more times than I could even count and calling myself an idiot even more times that that, Rachel left my house swearing that whatever happened between us was fine, that it was okay. My mom seemed to have more questions than she did, wondering why I always hogged the good beauty products in the house and how I manage to need the tweezers three times a week.

Shockingly, the next day at school wasn't even awkward or weird between Rachel and I. We kept bumping into each other, naturally it was more than we usually did, but every time felt refreshing, like seeing her smile at me was on par with a cold drink of water. Knowing that maybe, maybe we found something within each other, something as simple as comfortableness or honesty was so much more hydrating though.

My last class of the day was Calculus. I left the room a few minutes late and began heading towards my locker. The halls had cleared out, almost completely, and as I made my way past the library, I caught something that looked strikingly like a burgundy carousal horse sweater from the corner of my eye. A smile grew on my face and I began heading towards a distant Rachel.

As I approached her, I felt someone quickly brush past me. I watched curiously as a determined David Karofsky rushed down the hall. What I didn't realize, or at least not in enough time to prevent anything, was that he was headed towards Rachel, a big gulp held firmly in his grip.

Before I could run between them or even scream down the hall, I heard the infamous slosh and light impact of slushie on skin contact. Rachel stood in place as the red ice began dripping off of her features, her hands glued to her sides and mouth hanging open in shock. Instantly, my world went red.

I stormed down the hall, quickly arriving beside Karofsky, and gripped his shoulder tightly. With as much force as I could I pulled the front of his body to face mine. After stumbling slightly, he straightened his posture and looked down upon me with furious eyes.

"What the hell?!" he snapped. My hands immediately reached out and aggressively filled with the collar of the tattered letterman's jacket he was wearing.

"What the fuck did you just do?!" I yelled hoarsely as I yanked the fabric of his coat towards me.

"Uh, I slushied that loser chick. Now let go of my jacket," he said, trying to shrug my grip free. My hands tightened even further and I pulled again.

"I'm not letting go of shit until you apologize!"

"Please, I'm not apologizing. Especially not to her," he said with a huff as his hand motioned towards Rachel. I couldn't look at her though. Just being aware of the fact that she was standing there, eyes filled with tears and her skin beginning to stain was enough to make my blood boil. If I turned around, if I saw it too, I'd snap. "She walks around all proud and uppity. Then she has the nerve to think she's exempt because she's dating head homo Finn Hudson...but obviously she doesn't understand the social order. She's a loser and losers get slushied."

My hands unclasped his clothing and pushed against his shoulders powerfully. He stumbled backwards and his back landed roughly against a row of lockers. As the echo rang down the empty corridor, I approached him again, this time reaching up and gripping with one hand the fabric of his t-shirt directly under his chin.

"Rachel has more intelligence and talent on her headband than you will ever personally encounter in your life," I spat out. "She's not a loser and if I ever see you or any of your neanderthal buddies near her ever again, I swear on my life there will be consequences."

"Fuck you. You can't tell me what to do," he said with a patronizing laugh as his forearm knocked my hand away from his chest. He attempted to walk away but I pushed into his shoulders again. Another crashing echo rippled down the hall and he looked at me with a confused expression of shock.

"Okay, I get that you've had to overcome a lot in your life, what with having a skull so thick that a brain any larger than the fist of a premature baby is an impossibility for you, but I really don't understand what you're so confused about," I said with a militant coldness. "Here, I'll put it in terms your unfortunately miniscule brain can comprehend: You are to never slushie, insult, or even look at Rachel ever again. As a matter of fact, the only time you are allowed to so much as even say her name is to tell the rest of your troll-like football friends that they are never to slushie, insult, or look at Rachel ever again. Now, do you need me to find the nearest able-minded primate to translate that into ape for you or do you think you got the gist?"

"You can't make me do shit," he responded through gritted teeth. I could visibly see the anger rising within him and honestly, it made me proud. "I know you're head cheerleader and all, but that doesn't make you any more special than any other dumb slut in this school."

"Don't you dare-"

"It's okay, Rachel," I interrupted before she could say anything even slightly provoking towards Karofsky. I didn't want her getting any more involved than she already was. I didn't want him throwing even more insults her way or trying to tear her down any more because the thought of him trying to hurt her any further was too much for me to handle. I turned towards her to offer her a reassuring smile, completely forgetting about her state of disarray, and the first thing I noticed were her cheeks. I couldn't tell if it was because they were stained or cold or reacting to the impact but they were so red. I looked to her eyes and nothing had ever seemed more like glass, so fragile and exposed. She was about to break and I couldn't have that. I couldn't see her become damaged or even cracked, so instead, I broke.

"Dumb slut? I have a 4.0 and I was president of the celibacy club for two years so your insult holds absolutely no merit. However I can say, with much confidence, that I am completely accurate when I tell you that you look like a shaved ox, so much so that I can't help but want to slap some reigns on you, attach them to my car, and make you pull me all the way to Oregon. I might be better off with actual oxen though because then I don't have to worry about them catching some sort of disease from eating their own feces." His jaw dropped and an unsettling anger arose in his eyes.

"You know what? I'm not saying shit to anyone so go fuck yourself. As a matter of fact, now your little dyke-ish freak friend is gonna get it ten times as bad and there's not a goddamn thing you can do to stop me or anyone else!"

"Dyke-ish? Very interesting choice of words. You think you'd stay away from gay slurs, you know, considering."

"Considering what? What the fuck are you talking about?" he questioned angrily.

"I know it comes too naturally to ignore, but playing stupid, along with a seemingly infinite list of personality flaws, does not bode well for your character."

"Look, I don't know what you're-"

"Yes you do. But I guess I'll do my best to try and explain the obvious to you." I paused for a moment, just long enough to project an image of confidence, and drew in a deep breath. "I don't know if you've somehow already forgotten, but you mentioned earlier that I'm head cheerleader, to which I'd like to say congratulations, you know at least one fact. I'm both thoroughly impressed and harboring what can only be described as maternal sense of pride. But I digress. See, being head cheerleader is more than just short skirts and a social status that allows me to ruthlessly insult ogre-like beings such as yourself with absolutely no fear of consequences or retaliation. It comes with responsibility, too. Things like making sure no one dies during a stunt or organizing protests when parent groups threaten to revoke some of our funding when someone actually does. One of my more menial responsibilities is that I have to make sure that my Cheerios correctly put away all of our used equipment after practice. You know, just make sure that our storage shed is clean and organized. Do you know where our equipment shed is?"

"I...I-"

"Gosh, I'm so silly. I don't know why I asked you that. Of course you do! I've seen you behind there several times with your one buddy. What's his name? Azimio, right?"

"No...No, no, no," he stammered.

"Of course, you two seemed a little bit...busy so you probably didn't notice me. Unfortunately for both of us, I noticed you." As I spoke, I felt a brief sense of surreality float through me, like a sort of gentle nightmare, but I continued on anyways, fully committed to Rachel's well-being no matter the cost.

"How- no, it's not what you think. You...you can't tell anyone, please. I'll-I'll do anything you want," he pleaded with absolute desperation in his voice and I was suddenly snapped out of whatever borderline sadistic trance I was in. For the first time, I looked at David. I didn't look through him or past him or at him trying to see what I wanted to see, what he wanted me to see. I looked at his face and into his eyes and I didn't see the Karofsky who just assaulted Rachel. I didn't see the young man who had spent so much of his high school life like I had, torturing others because of a facade. What I saw before me was a scared child with nothing but fear and helplessness behind his eyes. I saw the same demons that I myself had been trying so hard to escape. Immediately upon my discovery, I felt my stomach flip and it took everything to not empty its contents into the nearest trash can. "No...this can't be happening. This can't...Please, you can't."

My jaw hung open and I tried to form words but nothing came out. There was nothing within me but paralyzing disgust.

"Quinn, what do you think you're doing?" Rachel questioned from behind us with such an unusual seriousness and my disgust soon found company within my explosive shame. I turned my head towards her and when our eyes met, there was such hurt and disappointment in hers. I gasped for air, the sharp intake felt like needles but nothing compared to her eyes. Those were daggers and my conscience deserved every single one of their guided plunges.

I shook my head, still slack-jawed and unable to form any words. I was so fucked. I thought I was finally doing something for her, protecting her and I fucked it up. She showed me love and care and how did I repay her? By implying that I was going to destroy the life of one of our classmates in her honor. I mean, Jesus, she cared about me. She showed me true, honest to God human fucking compassion and this was my idea of reciprocity?

And, fuck, what about David? This could have ruined him. I could have ruined him.

No. No, I couldn't let it end like this. I couldn't come all of this way with her, with myself to throw it out of the window in five minutes. I couldn't threaten somebody like this, with something like this. This...this could be redeemed. This could be fixed or...or something. There had to be a way. There had to be.

"Rachel, could you wait out here for a moment? David, I need you to follow me." I didn't look at either while I addressed them, I just looked ahead. I couldn't see their expressions because I couldn't risk the fact that I might run away. So instead, I walked away. I walked towards a nearby classroom and a chill washed over me as I stepped into the dark, empty room. I walked over to the teacher's desk and as I took a seat atop of it, I heard the door slam. I looked over and saw him standing there, hands shoved deeply into his pockets and body flexing defensively. He was staring at the ground and his refusal to meet my eyes felt like salt on a gunshot wound.

"David, I am so sorry about that...the name calling and blackmailing and stuff. I promise I didn't want to ever bring that up to anyone, I swear. It was just...Rachel means a lot to me and I couldn't handle seeing her hurt like that. You understand, don't you?"

"Understand?!" he yelled loud enough to cause me to flinch. Out of everything I was feeling or had felt over the past few minutes, this was the first time I felt any semblance of genuine fear. I knew that I had taken things too far but it was only now that I finally questioned what constituted crossing the line to him. "Do you understand what you just did? Do you understand what this could do to me if it got out...what I'd do?"

As his words progressed, my short-lived fear began to dissipate. This wasn't a man of violence or of taunting nature, this was a grown child reacting to being broken down by his own doing...and that was a state I was all too familiar with.

"Listen," I practically whispered out, trying my best to express the deeply personal nature of my current level of empathy. "Just because I know about this doesn't mean you need to do anything drastic, okay? Sure, we haven't gotten along in the past, but that doesn't mean I want anything bad to happen to you...or anyone else for that matter. I promise I won't tell another living soul, I swear. Just please, please leave Rachel alone."

"Why should I trust you? No...no, fuck you!" he said with a half-hearted harshness. He turned and began reaching for the doorknob and I felt a flash of panic. If he left this room without any sort of resolution, we'd both be wreaked.

"Don't leave!" I exclaimed, breaking him from his actions. He turned back towards me and for the first time, met my eye. I continued on, as softly as I could, "Just please, come sit down. You can trust me, really."

I could visibly see him mulling over his decision to come sit, to put faith into me. After a moment, however, he almost reluctantly and definitely fearfully, made his way over to the desk directly in front of me.

"Why can I trust you? Why should I even begin to believe you?" he questioned with a helplessness, a certain kind of need to understand, as he took a seat in the desk.

"Because you're not as alone as you think you are. I know what you're feeling. Maybe not the trapped in the closet thing...but I know what it's like to take out your own self loathing on other people. You and I both know from experience that it's not going to make you feel any better. Really, all that we ever did was perpetuate the same social ignorance that kept us from accepting ourselves." He looked up at me, confusion overcoming the hazel in his eyes.

"Wh- what do you mean?" he questioned softly with a child-like innocence that made me notice how large he appeared inside of the desk. God, it broke my heart to see such a tragic embodiment of physical irony within such a pained individual.

"Okay, look at it this way: if you came out and everyone started calling you names or treating you differently, would it make you any less gay?"

"Don't...don't say that word." His stuttering and current vulnerability was absolutely heart wrenching. I felt so guilty for trying to tear him down the way I did. He was so scared and I took advantage of that. But now, I just wanted to show him that he was safe with me, that he could trust someone. I knew I should have just done that from the start and I knew that it wouldn't be easy, but if it took hours or days or even weeks to convince him of my honest intentions, I would.

"David, you can answer the question. No one is going to hear us," I said with all of the sympathy and understanding in my body.

He stayed silent for a moment and I could recognize the expression on his face. He was rounding up his courage, mustering up the strength to be open and honest with not only himself, but someone else.

"No," he whispered.

"Okay, so how is that any different than what you're doing to Rachel? I know she's loud and seems weird, but has any slushie you've ever thrown in her face changed her at all?"

"I guess not, no...but, but I don't see what you're getting at."

"You bullying Rachel...you're just showing everyone else that it's okay to not accept people who seem different, that it's okay to try and change them and soon, that's gonna come around and bite you in the ass. But you...you could really change things. Believe it or not, people look up to you. You're a football jock and a bit of a stud and in Ohio, that goes a long way. And instead you use your influence for evil...Darth Karofsky."

"What did you just call me?" he questioned as his face scrunched in bewilderment.

"Look," I said, choosing to ignore his question. "You have to realize that your actions are breaking you down in more ways than one, but just as importantly, they're affecting others as well. A lot of others."

"Okay, I guess I get what you're saying but you used to be the worst of us all. No more than ten minutes ago, you pushed me against a locker and called me a shit eater...and now you're trying to preach at me?" he questioned without any condescension, which made me suddenly confident. The honesty in his tone made me hopeful that I was getting through to him, that he was being open to discussion.

"Earlier, that was an accident. I mean, I knew what I was doing but you were right, I didn't understand what I was doing. I just saw that you hurt my friend, a person who's trying her hardest to show me that the cycle can be broken, and I just snapped. I immediately became everything I used to hate about myself. And that's what the hardest part about all of this is. It's like a bad habit that you can't quite shake, that keeps rearing its ugly head even when you have the best intentions. And sometimes I swear the guilt is so heavy, it feels crippling. But the struggle is worth it. That moment when you finally realize that you can look somebody in the eye without any exchange of threat or hatred or even shame, it makes everything worth it. You could have that, David. You could do great things for people...you just have to try."

"Look, I don't know..." he said disbelievingly but I could tell he was understanding me, that I was getting through to him. He just needed a little more push.

"Trust me. I know you don't have a reason to, you said that earlier, but I would never ask someone that if I knew I had the intention of letting them down...so trust me."

There was a brief pause as David lowered his head in thought. After a moment, his eyes found mine and this time, they held something that seemed all too rare for him: hope. "You really think I could change, that I could make things better?"

A smile crept across my face and I felt my chest lighten significantly. "Definitely," I affirmed to him confidently. "You might not have everyone's support at first, but they'll come around. They just need a strong leader to help them out of the dark. Consider it, please."

"Alright," he nodded with a crooked, yet faint grin. "I'll try."

"Thank you so much. You're doing a really great thing." I hopped down from the desk and closed the gap between us. He craned his neck upwards and I placed my hands on top of the idle pair in front of me. "And if you ever need anyone...for anything, not just this whole cold-turkey desertion of bullying thing, you can come to me, okay?"

"Okay," he said quietly. We exchanged soft smiles and I squeezed his hand gently before letting go. "So you won't tell anyone then?"

I straightened my posture and rose my right hand into the hair. "On my honor."

He let out a light chuckle and the rhythm of his laughter somehow felt warm. "Thank you."

"No problem," I responded. As I began heading back towards the door, a thought crossed my mind and I turned back towards him. "Hey, David?"

"...yeah?" he questioned curiously.

"I really am sorry," I said, my eyes not diverting from his even though it felt as if the floor was almost begging me to stare, to invalidate my genuine profession with such an act of cowardice.

"I know," he replied with a reassuring nod and I felt yet another weight lift off of my chest.

"Please keep her safe, okay?" I asked, the tone of delicate beseeching not missed by David. He looked at me with an almost knowing before nodding in conformation.

I walked out of the empty classroom and was immediately greeted by Rachel. Her hair was still covered in slushie and suddenly I felt guilty for not asking her to meet me in the restroom so she wasn't standing there in a puddle of corn syrup and food dye. She stormed up to me with a subtle fury in her eyes and I began preparing myself for the partially misguided yet completely deserved berating I was about to face. "Quinn, what were you thinking?!"

"I wasn't but please let me explain," I begged as I tried to reach out to place a hand on her shoulder. She smacked my hand away and pointed at me expressively and with a huff, an act I probably would have found oddly adorable under any other circumstances.

"Do you realize the possible repercussions if you really were to..." she paused for a moment, checking the seemingly empty hallway for any after-school stragglers before continuing on in a cautious yet harsh whisper, "...out him to the whole school?!"

"Rachel, I've done some awful things in my day, but I would never in a million years consider really outing someone like that. It's just that...he hurt you and I wanted to make sure it never happened again," I attempted to justify, but the stern look still present on her face only proved that my vindicating shrug held no merit.

"That's very noble of you, Quinn, but your method, albeit effective, was absolutely shameful! Deplorable even!" she exclaimed, still holding on to the aggressively hushed tone. I started to panic, fearing that maybe even though I fixed things with David, I could have done something irreversible with Rachel.

"I know," I said with a pleading despondency. "I didn't want to take it that far, I swear I didn't, but seeing you like that, so close to breaking down, it made me snap. I promise I have never once thought I would ever tell anyone about what I saw. I didn't want to tell anyone. But what happened, what I did, that was the result of a momentary relapse. I'm just...I'm so sorry you had to see that side of me again, Rachel. I'm so sorry. But...but know he's not gonna hurt you ever again. No one is going to hurt you ever again."

"At what cost, Quinn?" she questioned with a level of defeat that chipped at the walls of my increasingly fragile heart.

"Nothing," I said, mentally noting the miraculousness behind my voice not cracking.

"What do you mean nothing ?"

"I mean there's no catch," I reassured. I heard the final after-school bell ring and I whipped my head around to stare at the clock over my shoulder, realizing I had only five minutes to get to Cheerios. "Shit. Listen, Rachel, I can explain all of this, but I have to get to practice or else Coach is going to make me bench press detergent boxes filled with concrete for two hours. Are you free tonight?"

"Yes I am, but I don't know if..."

"Nope, don't finish that," I interrupted. "I know you have to stay late for your GayLesbAl meeting tonight so meet me in front of the school at like, 5:40."

"How did you know I have a GayLesbAl meeting tonight?" she asked with a surprise that implied she had temporarily forgotten she was supposed to be angry.

"Details, Rachel. Just meet me then. We're going to talk and I'm going to explain everything to you and then you're going to understand why you should consider not being mad at me, okay? Please, trust me."

She sighed heavily and with a roll of her eyes gave me my second reassuring nod of the day. "Alright, Quinn. I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt on this one but if I figure out-"

"Great! Thank you so much!" I blurted out, almost happily, as I reached out and squeezed both of Rachel's arms softly. Immediately, I broke into a sprint but before I turned the corner at the end of the hallway, I yelled loudly over my shoulder, "5:40! See you then!"

xxxx

Leaving Cheerios was one of the hardest things I had ever done. I wanted to hide out for the rest of my life, allowing no company but my own self-loathing. Sure, she may have gave in a little bit, at least telling me she'd allow me to explain myself, but I still couldn't help but spend the entirety of practice absolutely terrified that she wouldn't show, that I wouldn't get a chance at resolve, that I had fucked up beyond repair. No level of fear, however, could have kept me from a recent, almost nagging need of chastity, of a clear conscience. I had to explain myself, both of us deserved that.

By exactly 5:40, I had made it to the front of the school. I found Rachel sitting, patiently waiting on the steps right outside of the main entrance. Seeing her there made my heart flutter in confidence, in hopefulness. If she trust me enough to actually show, then maybe I could fix this.

I sat down next to her and she turned towards me as soon as I had impacted with the concrete. "Quinn, I-"

"You're probably thinking some terrible...and partially true things about me right now and I know you have a few choice words that you feel as if I should hear, but I need to tell you what happened in that classroom first."

"I really think-"

"Please, just let me go first." I felt bad for continually interrupting her, but I knew that if I didn't get everything out of my mind as soon as possible, those awful seeds I planted with my awful actions would begin to grow and take root in her mind, forever tarnishing the beautiful foundation we had so recently laid between each other.

"When we went into that room, I swear I didn't say anything else even remotely mean to David. I apologized...profusely. I was there for him, I told him things were going to get better and that he's capable of so many great things...because he is, and I promised him that I would be there to help him with anything whenever he needed me. I meant every word of it and I think he knew that because when we talked to one another, we were both honest, open. I didn't victimize him and I didn't pretend that I was innocent either.

"But I don't want you to think that I think I was right in doing what I did. I wasn't. It was an awful thing to do and I didn't ever want to see that version of myself again. While it was happening it felt almost surreal. It was like I went into some sort of vicious autopilot and once I snapped out of it, I was so disgusted with myself." I paused as my eyes flickered towards the cement. My face had to look terribly downtrodden and my voice shook as I whispered, "I don't ever want to feel that way again."

She let out another sigh before questioning, "But why? Why did you do it, Quinn? Why did you take it so far?"

"I...I did it because I wanted to protect you. Not just physically...even though I know how awful it feels getting bitchslapped by a big gulp, but mentally. I want to protect who you are. I don't want anyone to turn you cold, to make you bitter. You're so strong-willed so I know you'd never allow it to happen, but I don't want to take my chances because truth be told, you're kind of my beacon of hope now. You give me a reason to believe in people, in humanity and goodness. You're the only person who's ever gone out of their way to truly show me what it means to be a good person. Sure, what I did in the hallway was for you, but what I said to David in that classroom, that was because of you.

"You make me want to be better, Rachel, and not just for myself...for you, so you know you're not alone in your compassion. Because what I've realized, what you've taught me, is that your level of kindness comes from a rare breed of courage. It doesn't come easy for people, especially not for those with a track record like mine, but I want to show you that you are proof of the possibilities and potential of mankind. That you're an influence. It may take me awhile, I proved that today, but with you around I know I've got the best teacher in the world. Just please be patient with me, Rach. Please. Because now that I know what it's like to have you around, I don't know if I ever want to be in the dark again."

She looked at me and the daggers were gone. Instead I saw something I wasn't quite ready to believe in yet, that I couldn't believe in yet. "So you did it for me?"

"Would it scare you away if I did?"

"Not if it's the truth," she said with a shake of her head.

"Then yes."

"And that's really how you feel about me?" she questioned.

I nodded, knowing that I wasn't being entirely truthful. She knew how I really felt, I heard it in her question, but in all honesty, I didn't know how I felt or at least, I didn't know how to put it into words. Not any that would make sense outside of my own mind.

The truth was, when I thought about her, when any vision of her danced through my head, I felt like I was in a perpetual downfall. My thoughts span out of control, my stomach pulled on itself, the world warped and flashed before me. It always felt like that too. It never ended. Frankly, I didn't want it to. She was my rabbit hole, and no wonders in this world or any other could have made me ever want to stop falling, weightless and warm and pulled by the gravity of Rachel Berry. She was the sky and the moon and every star in the sky and I would happily float through her universe for an eternity.

" I can't believe you called me 'Rach'," she said through a shy laugh before silently giving in to her thoughts for a moment. I swear, watching her concentrate was better than even the best gestures of my brain. "You know, two years ago, if someone would have told me that Quinn Fabray would one day be waxing poetic in my honor, I would have called them crazy."

She laughed again and I knew somewhere there had to be a whole galaxy filled with her laughter.

"I don't know how or when it happened, but you're kind of my favorite now," I said. It wasn't everything and it surely wasn't enough, but it was the closest version of the truth I could currently give her. A blush crept across her tanned cheeks and she broke our contact to begin staring at her now-fidgeting feet.

"You're kind of my favorite now, too," she whispered out and suddenly I knew that if flowers could speak, they would envy the hum of her voice.

I'm a bit worried about this chapter, I know it's a sensitive topic, especially amongst the Glee community. If I didn't handle it properly please let me know and I will be happy to change what needs to be changed.

I know it took me a disgustingly long time to update so thank you for your patience. All of the crazy in my life has passed so updates should be more frequent. On a related note, a thanks is also needed to those of you who gave me well wishes. And one final thank you to everyone who takes time to involve themselves in my story in any way.

to the eyebrows anon: I spent the five minutes after reading your comment alternating between laughing and attempting to "look over my eyebrows". No more than two days later I was reading The Hobbit and Gandolf was noted as looking "from under his eyebrows," which I found to be not only in good time, but quite hilarious. Needless to say, I went back and corrected myself. Thank you for pointing out my error, which I can assure you is one I will never make again :)

tumblr: wholemottalovin