Predator

Chapter Three

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I have a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach when I find myself in front of the choir room door.

I remember the last time I've stood in front of this door and without warning, harsh, red images flash before my eyes. The metal flask clanking on the floor, his dark, empty eyes, his hands trailing all over me, the sound of his heavy breath, my underwear being ripped away-

Stop it, Rachel!

I feel hot tears rising and it takes a lot of effort to force them back down. Okay Rachel, now open the door.

But I find that I can't bring myself to do it. Not even to touch it. I can't help but think it'd be like opening a gateway into my own personal hell; unleashing the confined evils into the rest of the world. Once I open the door, who knows what Mr. Schuester will do to me? I didn't have Spanish today so I haven't seen him yet. How am I supposed to face him again?

My train of thought is cut off as Mercedes shuffles past me and now it's done, the door is open. I sigh and force my unwilling feet across the threshold, not torturing myself by looking around. I just head straight to the back of the room and pray that so help me, he be sick or absent or anything stopping him from being here today.

I allow my eyes to dart up for a second and damnit, there he is at his usual spot by the whiteboard. I can feel his stare burning into my forehead. I know he wants me to meet his gaze. Stop looking at me! I want to yell at him. Haven't you done enough?

"Woah Berry, did someone finally beat you up?"

I feel myself wince at that comment. Santana.

"I ran into a door," I mutter, not giving Mr. Schuester the satisfaction of my eye contact. Although out of the corner of my vision, I see him cross his arms and stare at the ground. Good. I hope he feels guilty.

I don't pay attention for the entire class, which I've never done in any class before. Today in my other classes I tried to focus to keep my mind off things, but here I'm not even going to bother. It goes by painstakingly slow. I do force myself to sing some, but minimally at best because if I didn't, it would be a dead-giveaway that something's wrong. But this aspect scares me, even more than facing Mr. Schuester again. For the first time in my life, I have no desire to sing.

After what seems like hours, the dull-toned bell finally drones through the building. I try to collect my things quickly so that I'm not the last one in the room with him, but every part of me seems to move so slowly now, and everyone is faster than me. I hurry down the risers and I'm almost out the door and please God, please let me make it out, and then I feel his hand on my shoulder. Damnit!

I see red again; that same hand touching me in forbidden places, holding my mouth shut, coming down on my head-

Something similar to a squeak escapes my throat and I shudder away violently.

"We need to talk," he says.

Facing away from him, I squeeze my eyes shut and try to will away all of the memories that I keep seeing oh-so clearly at the sound of his voice. I grip my sides tightly, as if I'll crumble to the ground if I don't. "There's nothing to talk about."

There's a prolonged silence so I start for the door again. I hear him sigh loudly. "Rachel," he warns, "come back here. Remember, I'm your superior, so you have to listen to me."

This statement immediately fires up every angry nerve in my body. I spin around on my heel and sneer at him with the upmost disgust.

"What are you gonna do, rape me?" I hiss. He sighs again and rubs his face. As if he's the one that deserves to be agitated.

"Did you tell anybody?" he asks me quietly. I want to laugh. I genuinely want to laugh.

"You break my body and leave me for dead, naked and unconscious," I retort, "and all you're worried about is whether or not I turned you in? You are a sick, sick man, Will Schuester!"

"I'm really sorry, Rachel!" he protests. "I was...I was in a bad place and-"

"You were wasted because you chose to get wasted, at school!" I interrupt.

Mr. Schuester covers his face impatiently. "I'm sorry, Rachel, I didn't know what I was doing! I barely even remember what happened! I...I just need to know if you told anybody," he finishes.

It's so hard to look straight into his face without falling apart. Oh, how I want to keep screaming and ranting and belittling him, but pure sadness is threatening to overpower my anger and I find myself standing here, lips quivering, as I desperately try to use my voice.

"I...no, I didn't, okay?" I finally spit out, tossing my hands up with frustration. "And...and don't you dare think for a second that it's not a big deal to me, because it is! While you were too drunk to even remember, I will always remember every...every excruciating little detail for the rest of my life, and as much as I'd like to forget, I...I won't! Not ever!"

Damn my stuttering. Boiling tears threaten to spill over my eyes and my throat is becoming unbearably swollen. No, I can't cry in front of him! Calm down, Rachel, I command myself. I take a slow, raspy breath and look back up into those green eyes that I once (still?) adored.

"I'm not telling on you because I don't want to be known as the girl who was raped by her teacher!" I barely manage. "I don't want people to look at me and know I wear the clothes that I wear to hide the body that you ruined! You ruined me!"

The last part seems to put a waver into his expression, to my satisfaction.

"I really am sorry," he tries again, somber. "I'm so, so sorry, Rach."

As I try to study his face, oh how I want to believe him. How I wish that I could still hang onto every word he speaks, and truly know that every word coming out of his mouth is genuine.

But I just...can't.

I sniffle back my tears pitifully and turn to reach for the door handle, shaking my head.

"No you're not."

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The instant my car door slams shut, I fall apart.

There's nothing I can do to stop the crying. I sit here, weeping and howling and pounding my fists against the steering wheel. The only thing I can manage to think straight is that I can't believe that I know I'm screaming for once.

WHY WAS IT HIM

WHY

WHY

WHY

Why couldn't it be anybody else?! I never would've guessed in my entire life that I'd actually prefer to be raped in the first place! Yet now, as I sit here on the verge of ripping my hair out, there's nothing else I wish for so desperately!

WHY HIM

WHY HIM

WHY HIM

I know that if anyone else did that to me, he'd be comforting and kind and I know how he is, I know it would just kill him inside! What happened to that Will Schuester?! The one that did anything for his students, that made sure we were all okay? I am definitely not okay, and on top of that, it's his fault! Where is the Will Schuester I know?

Where is the one I fell in love with?

WHY DOESN'T HE CARE ABOUT ME ANYMORE

WHY DOESN'T HE CARE ABOUT ME ANYMORE

WHY THE HELL DOESN'T HE CARE ABOUT ME ANYMORE

"He doesn't care about me!" I scream out loud, my voice cracking horribly. Saliva drips from my mouth and mascara clumps are coming off on my fingertips and god I must look like a mess. I don't even care what I look like right now. Those words keep playing over and over in my head like a broken record. It's strange. So many things have happened today that make me feel like absolute shit.

Yet the worst feeling I've had is realizing that he doesn't care about me.

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