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It doesn't hurt me.
You wanna feel how it feels?
You wanna know, know that it doesn't hurt me?
You wanna hear about the deal I'm making?
You be running up that hill
You and me be running up that hill
The coffin was dark wood, smooth and far too real. The sun shining down on them felt like a mockery to her. Rachel couldn’t stop herself from moving forward as it was being lowered into the ground. Something like a whimper, a protest fell from her mouth. Her hands reached out as if to stop it. No please, her mind screamed. Please Please no. Please God.
Distantly she could feel someone's hand tugging her back. Soft cries in the background. The cool wind on her tears streaked face. She didn’t see anything but the coffin. Couldn’t take her eyes of it. She felt something shatter into pieces inside her as it disappeared in the ground. Gone. She was gone. Suddenly she was freezing. She was so cold. Cold and numb. Why was she so cold?
And if I only could,
Make a deal with God,
And get him to swap our places,
Be running up that road,
Be running up that hill,
Be running up that building,
If I only could, oh...
The days went by in a blur. Rachel didn’t sleep, didn’t eat. All she did was lie on her bed reliving the moment again and again. The frantic rush to the hospital. The waiting. The trembling of her hands. Her erratic heartbeat. The doctor words. ‘I am sorry. We did everything we could’. Her vehement denial. This wasn’t real. It was a nightmare. One she couldn’t wake up from. Her eyes had run out of tears long ago. Everything hurt. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to be still here. When she wasn’t. It was her fault, wasn’t it? Nobody said it. But she would be still here if it wasn’t for Rachel Berry.
You don't want to hurt me,
But see how deep the bullet lies.
Unaware that I'm tearing you asunder.
There is thunder in our hearts, baby.
So much hate for the ones we love?
Tell me, we both matter, don't we?
She didn’t cry when she gave back the ring. She didn’t feel anything as he screamed at her. Didn’t flinch as he kicked things around her room. No. she didn’t feel anything. It didn’t matter now. Nothing mattered now. When he finally left she did let out a small sigh of relief. Silence. Alone with her thoughts again. She lay in the dark, the one picture she had of her clutched tightly to her chest.
You, be running up that hill
You and me, be running up that hill
You and me won't be unhappy.
She didn’t sleep much. The few times she did she would wake up screaming. Voice hoarse and soaked in sweat. Always her name falling from her lips. Memories would seep in and cut into her like glass. She held onto them. She would relive every one of them in her mind. It was all she had left now. What could have been. What should have been. Silent tears would soak her pillow. Exhausted she would drift off again. Only to wake up screaming again.
And if I only could,
Make a deal with God,
And get him to swap our places,
Be running up that road,
Be running up that hill,
Be running up that building,
If I only could, oh...
Six months later she finally started singing again. The song she picked she couldn’t get out of her head. Maybe that was why she had to sing it. If she still had been the Rachel Berry from before she would have felt pride. This was her best performance ever. But she didn’t feel anything. Something had died in her that day. The hollowness inside her chest was familiar. The pain she was used to. Her voice sounded haunted. The emotion was raw as she sang every word. She meant every word. Her voice broke on the last line. If only i could.
'C'mon, baby, c'mon, c'mon, darling,
Let me steal this moment from you now.
C'mon, angel, c'mon, c'mon, darling,
Let's exchange the experience, oh...'
Her fingers traced the outline of the name on the cold headstone. She laid the bouquet of gardenias down gently. Every month she came down from New York. She couldn’t stay away even if she tried. Drawn back like a moth to fire. She sat down on the ground and whispered the words. ‘I am so sorry’. She would sit there, eyes fixated on the name while darkness fell around her. Something stirring inside her that she refused to put into words. Instead she sang softly. C’mon angel, come on darling. Let’s exchange the experience.
A year later nothing had changed. She just had learnt to hide her pain better. Pretending to be fine was exhausting. She did it anyway. She smiled, she went out with friends. She attended classes diligantly. Called her Dads. And every night she would lie awake thinking the same thing over and over again. Whisper her name into the silence just before she fell asleep. Quinn. Every month on the same day she would visit the grave. Like clockwork. Her life had fallen into a pattern. One she couldn’t stop. Didn’t want to stop. She couldn't let go. She didn't ever want to.
And if I only could,
Make a deal with God,
And get him to swap our places,
Be running up that road,
Be running up that hill,
With no problems