Predator

Chapter One

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Wanna have some fun, Ra-

Stop it.

Wanna have some fun, Ra-

Stop.

Wanna have-

Stop it, stop it, stop it, stop it.

Wanna-

"STOP!"

A frustrated cry ripples from my raw throat; it rings in my ears from the echo of the tile walls and I'm reminded of the last time I used that word today. This irritates me. But everything is irritating me right now. Like, god, when did my shower head ever get so loud? The hum is overwhelming and so loud it's almost as if it's screaming, screaming like me. Am I still screaming? Have I stopped screaming since I've gotten home? I can't tell. My mind is on other things.

I clench a pink loofah in my fist and scrub like mad. I scrub every inch of my used skin and it hurts like hell, but that doesn't stop me. I scrub until the bruises that litter my body threaten to burst and everything that wasn't already sore now is and my knuckles are white from a loss of circulation. And then I scrub some more. Because no matter how much I try to scrub away his hot breath on my neck, the places his fingers have been, the overall feeling of his filth-

It remains.

I'm so, so afraid that it always will.

Before I know it, a wave of pure sorrow is smothering me and I can't do anything but collapse to the ground in defeat and exhaustion. There isn't an area of my body that doesn't hurt, but none else compares to the throbbing, stinging, shredded mess that was once my lower region. Upon contact with the tile floor, I see blinding white flashes and howl in pain.

I bring my knees up to my chest and bury my head against them. I'm crying again- god, I sound hideous when I cry. When I'm acting, of course I have my delicate, theatrical weep, but right now I sound more like a hiccuping goat. Through my legs I watch a crimson stream of blood- my blood, trail its way to the drain, staining the floor. Does everything I touch become filthy now? Frothy red bubbles foam against the stainless steel when the hot water hits it. I have never felt more like a used and discarded tissue in my entire life.

I am such an idiot!

How could I let that happen to me? I should've ran when I had the bad feeling, god, how could I let that happen? No wonder he did that to me, I'm so stupid! This is my fault, I'm no better than a hooker!

My teeth dig into one of my bruised knees as I choke on my sobs. I just wanted him to love me, I just wanted to be loved!

This fleeting thought is immediately dismissed and I chuckle ruefully. It sounds like something a younger Rachel Berry would've said last week, yesterday, hell, probably even a couple hours ago. A naive little girl who was so uneducated, so clueless when it came to men and love.

"That was not love, Rachel," I whisper.

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-EARLIER THAT DAY-

It's no secret that Mr. Schuester doesn't return my feelings.

I know this now. And to think I've been spending this entire week making a complete fool of myself, mooning over him like a desperate whore. After realizing my love for him during our riveting duet, I had figured that if I...presented myself like how I've been doing, then he would come to realize his own. After that? I never thought about it. Now I know that a relationship between us would be extremely difficult, if not illegal. And even if it wasn't, he's married with a baby on the way. Once I become a star, I do not intend on people labeling me as a home-wrecker.