fic! The Silence [1/?]
Title: The Silence [1/?]
Author: Inkweaver_Amara
Fandom: GLEExSILENT HILL
Pairing: Rachel/Quinn (eventually.)
Rating: HARD R all throughout, PG-13 for this chapter.
Length: 1393
Spoilers: For Glee, all of Season One and maybe some for the Silent Hill games.
Summary: Ever since the beginning of junior year, Quinn has been plagued by horrific nightmares. Now Quinn is on a race against time, to uncover the mysteries behind Silent Hill, the meaning in her nightmares, and the disappearance of Rachel Berry. But, as they say, the truth hurts.
WARNING(s): Anyone familiar with Silent Hill knows what to expect. For the rest, expect MAJOR gore, crazy cultists, and various trigger warnings.
Notes: This is a mash-up of both the 2006 movie, Silent Hill, and the first three games. I'm trying to make this as simple as possible, for those who have never played a single game and/or never seen the movie.
TL;DR: One of the most terrifying survival horror games is crossed over with Glee. Yeah.
Shout outs!: Many thanks goes to dramatricks for being an awesome-sauce beta :3
--
The nightmares began in junior year.
The first one had only two clear points that she remembered: choking on smoke and the stench of burning flesh.
The second one was more clear; she had been strapped into a wheelchair and pushed down a long, never-ending hallway. The glaze of the floors and the eerie hum of the lights and the general smell of death told her that she was in some sort of hospital, but just as soon as she'd figured out that, she'd been hauled up by dirty hands and hung up like a Christmas ornament.
While a hundred angry, screaming voices cried out in joy, she burned.
And while every nightmare had a different beginning (sometimes in a school, sometimes in a park) it ended the same.
Burned alive.
It had been hard to go through the day in the viper's nest that was McKinley, backed up only by eleven other students and a curly haired teacher. It had been hard to remember that the child she had carried and loved and nurtured for months was gone, in another woman's arms.
Glee had been a saving grace-until Rachel Berry dropped out of school and simply vanished.
Of course the club couldn't survive without the powerhouse that was Rachel Berry. They took Sectionals, yes, but Regionals and Nationals were simply out of the question. It didn't help that there were rumors: that Rachel had been kidnapped, or something equally hideous. Rachel had been annoying at best and downright obnoxious at worst, but still, New Directions had loved her all the same.
But, as is the nature of things, by senior year everyone that ever dwelt within the halls of McKinley soon forgot that there had been a student named Rachel Berry. New Directions had to split up. Sue Sylvester crowed her victory over the intercom daily.
By the end of junior year, it was all over.
At least, that's what Quinn thought.
-
Three weeks into senior year, and Quinn had finally had enough.
The nightmares had grown progressively worse, to the point of night terrors. Her mother had often said that the night air would be shattered by Quinn screaming, even howling, thrashing in her sheets. Often, the words would be “Please, stop” or simply just screams.
Quinn remembered every detail of the dreams, which made them all the more horrific once she had to examine them in the light of day. Men and women dressed in funeral black, lace veils and chains and the fire-always, always, the fire.
The final straw had been the sleepwalking.
By the fifth time Judy Fabray had cornered Quinn and stopped her from walking into traffic, the nightmare was beginning to end-and, like the four times before it, Quinn awoke with a tortured scream.
“Silent Hill!”
-
The road was slick with the evening rain. Though the heater ran on full blast and she had on a nice hoodie, coupled with her mother's thick coat, Quinn still felt as if she had swallowed the North Pole. The ice pumped in her veins and pooled low in her gut.
It was natural, she supposed, for a runaway to feel this way.
In the cup-holder, her cellphone shrieked with the sound of Bohemian Rhapsody. It was her mother, calling for the-Quinn checked her missed calls log-seventeenth time. She let the call go to voicemail, knowing she was running on borrowed time. Sooner or later, her mother would give up and either call the authorities, or cancel Quinn's credit card.
Probably both.
She jumped as a loud beep startled her. The gas light was flashing-checking the fuel gauge, Quinn ground her teeth as she saw the arrow on the E.
“Hang in there baby,” she crooned to her car, tightening her grip on the steering wheel, eyes focused on the lonely neon sign in the distance. “Almost there. Almost there.”
By the time she pulled into the gas-station, her baby was running on fumes and the will of God-who, for once, was giving her a break. Quinn slid out of the car, rubbing her hand along the hood, absorbing some of the heat. She quickly ordered at least twenty dollars worth of gas, then jogged into the convenience store/waffle house to pay.
When she entered, Quinn pulled the warm brown coat closer around her, trying to hide the fact that she was still in her PJ's. She went up to the register and slid her card to the girl behind the counter, muttering, “Station three, please.”
The girl-blonde haired, blue eyed, and fair skinned-ran a judging eye over Quinn.
For once, Quinn didn't give three shits about how she looked to the other girl. She knew her appearance: bleary eyed, tangled hair, and shaking like a leaf in winter. The girl snorted, then did her job and swiped Quinn's card.
Quinn shot a look over her shoulder, gripping the fabric of her mother's coat tight around her shoulders as an officer pulled into the station next to hers, popping the kickstand of her black and white motorcycle.
“Sorry,” the girl said in a dry voice. “Your card doesn't work.”
Shit.
“Fine,” Quinn muttered, one eye on the police officer, digging into the coat pocket and fishing out the five twenties in her pocket. “How much?”
The officer was looking too hard at her car. Quinn licked her lips and gave the girl the twenty for the gas. While the register gave a merry ring, the officer turned towards the store and seemed to look Quinn straight in the eye.
Shit, shit, shit.
“Thanks,” the blonde muttered, snatching her receipt and power walking to her car. Thankfully, the officer didn't stop her or ask any questions as Quinn almost sprinted for her car; though by the firm line of the woman's mouth, Quinn knew she was suspicious.
As she was putting the nozzle of the gas pump back into place, Quinn jumped in her car and peeled out, shaking harder as Give Up The Funk blasted from her cell.
Mercedes. Her best friend since...ever. She was deep in the state of Pennsylvania, but she knew that if Mercedes got on her trail, her plan would be screwed seven ways to Sunday.
In desperation, she turned on the radio-feeling a cold stab of unexplained fear as the beginning notes of Don't Rain On My Parade blasted all around her. Instead of Barbra, she heard Rachel Berry's voice, loud and proud and strong.
The memories hit her hard and fast; brunette hair and bright eyes and a megawatt smile. Ambulances and a broken wail of a baby-wait, no, she was remembering Beth. Or maybe she was remembering Rachel? They were too jumbled in her sleep deprived brain, in her broken heart.
It was only when she had to blink away tears did she notice the cold sweat she had broken into. And that she was breaking the speed limit on Route 61.
And that there was a police officer pursuing her.
Licking her lips, Quinn hit the gas and went faster.
She was almost there, she could feel it, she could taste it. It tasted like fear and salt and chapped lips, but since she'd been seeing this place in her dreams, she wasn't surprised. The sirens wailed louder behind her, red and blue lights flashing rapid fire like the strobe lights at that fated Regionals.
She cranked up the music all the way, blasted by the phantom sounds of Rachel's voice and the scrambled memories of hospitals and fire and brimstone. Her phone flashed bright, the screen reading--
Quinn's lips parted.
The screen read Rachel.
Suddenly, just as Rachel (Barbra) sang out, “Get ready for me love, cause I'm a comer'!”, the radio exploded into static and white noise; but underneath the crackle, Quinn swore she heard the high pitched wails of a baby.
Wrenching her eyes away from the radio, Quinn focused on wet, black tar of the road.
Just as Rachel Berry stepped in front of her car, a finger raised to her lips in an order of silence.
With a shriek, Quinn spun the wheel hard to the left. The last thing she saw before the car crashed was Rachel, finger on her lips, eyes big and wide and sad.
Then Quinn saw nothing at all.
Author: Inkweaver_Amara
Fandom: GLEExSILENT HILL
Pairing: Rachel/Quinn (eventually.)
Rating: HARD R all throughout, PG-13 for this chapter.
Length: 1393
Spoilers: For Glee, all of Season One and maybe some for the Silent Hill games.
Summary: Ever since the beginning of junior year, Quinn has been plagued by horrific nightmares. Now Quinn is on a race against time, to uncover the mysteries behind Silent Hill, the meaning in her nightmares, and the disappearance of Rachel Berry. But, as they say, the truth hurts.
WARNING(s): Anyone familiar with Silent Hill knows what to expect. For the rest, expect MAJOR gore, crazy cultists, and various trigger warnings.
Notes: This is a mash-up of both the 2006 movie, Silent Hill, and the first three games. I'm trying to make this as simple as possible, for those who have never played a single game and/or never seen the movie.
TL;DR: One of the most terrifying survival horror games is crossed over with Glee. Yeah.
Shout outs!: Many thanks goes to dramatricks for being an awesome-sauce beta :3
--
The nightmares began in junior year.
The first one had only two clear points that she remembered: choking on smoke and the stench of burning flesh.
The second one was more clear; she had been strapped into a wheelchair and pushed down a long, never-ending hallway. The glaze of the floors and the eerie hum of the lights and the general smell of death told her that she was in some sort of hospital, but just as soon as she'd figured out that, she'd been hauled up by dirty hands and hung up like a Christmas ornament.
While a hundred angry, screaming voices cried out in joy, she burned.
And while every nightmare had a different beginning (sometimes in a school, sometimes in a park) it ended the same.
Burned alive.
It had been hard to go through the day in the viper's nest that was McKinley, backed up only by eleven other students and a curly haired teacher. It had been hard to remember that the child she had carried and loved and nurtured for months was gone, in another woman's arms.
Glee had been a saving grace-until Rachel Berry dropped out of school and simply vanished.
Of course the club couldn't survive without the powerhouse that was Rachel Berry. They took Sectionals, yes, but Regionals and Nationals were simply out of the question. It didn't help that there were rumors: that Rachel had been kidnapped, or something equally hideous. Rachel had been annoying at best and downright obnoxious at worst, but still, New Directions had loved her all the same.
But, as is the nature of things, by senior year everyone that ever dwelt within the halls of McKinley soon forgot that there had been a student named Rachel Berry. New Directions had to split up. Sue Sylvester crowed her victory over the intercom daily.
By the end of junior year, it was all over.
At least, that's what Quinn thought.
-
Three weeks into senior year, and Quinn had finally had enough.
The nightmares had grown progressively worse, to the point of night terrors. Her mother had often said that the night air would be shattered by Quinn screaming, even howling, thrashing in her sheets. Often, the words would be “Please, stop” or simply just screams.
Quinn remembered every detail of the dreams, which made them all the more horrific once she had to examine them in the light of day. Men and women dressed in funeral black, lace veils and chains and the fire-always, always, the fire.
The final straw had been the sleepwalking.
By the fifth time Judy Fabray had cornered Quinn and stopped her from walking into traffic, the nightmare was beginning to end-and, like the four times before it, Quinn awoke with a tortured scream.
“Silent Hill!”
-
The road was slick with the evening rain. Though the heater ran on full blast and she had on a nice hoodie, coupled with her mother's thick coat, Quinn still felt as if she had swallowed the North Pole. The ice pumped in her veins and pooled low in her gut.
It was natural, she supposed, for a runaway to feel this way.
In the cup-holder, her cellphone shrieked with the sound of Bohemian Rhapsody. It was her mother, calling for the-Quinn checked her missed calls log-seventeenth time. She let the call go to voicemail, knowing she was running on borrowed time. Sooner or later, her mother would give up and either call the authorities, or cancel Quinn's credit card.
Probably both.
She jumped as a loud beep startled her. The gas light was flashing-checking the fuel gauge, Quinn ground her teeth as she saw the arrow on the E.
“Hang in there baby,” she crooned to her car, tightening her grip on the steering wheel, eyes focused on the lonely neon sign in the distance. “Almost there. Almost there.”
By the time she pulled into the gas-station, her baby was running on fumes and the will of God-who, for once, was giving her a break. Quinn slid out of the car, rubbing her hand along the hood, absorbing some of the heat. She quickly ordered at least twenty dollars worth of gas, then jogged into the convenience store/waffle house to pay.
When she entered, Quinn pulled the warm brown coat closer around her, trying to hide the fact that she was still in her PJ's. She went up to the register and slid her card to the girl behind the counter, muttering, “Station three, please.”
The girl-blonde haired, blue eyed, and fair skinned-ran a judging eye over Quinn.
For once, Quinn didn't give three shits about how she looked to the other girl. She knew her appearance: bleary eyed, tangled hair, and shaking like a leaf in winter. The girl snorted, then did her job and swiped Quinn's card.
Quinn shot a look over her shoulder, gripping the fabric of her mother's coat tight around her shoulders as an officer pulled into the station next to hers, popping the kickstand of her black and white motorcycle.
“Sorry,” the girl said in a dry voice. “Your card doesn't work.”
Shit.
“Fine,” Quinn muttered, one eye on the police officer, digging into the coat pocket and fishing out the five twenties in her pocket. “How much?”
The officer was looking too hard at her car. Quinn licked her lips and gave the girl the twenty for the gas. While the register gave a merry ring, the officer turned towards the store and seemed to look Quinn straight in the eye.
Shit, shit, shit.
“Thanks,” the blonde muttered, snatching her receipt and power walking to her car. Thankfully, the officer didn't stop her or ask any questions as Quinn almost sprinted for her car; though by the firm line of the woman's mouth, Quinn knew she was suspicious.
As she was putting the nozzle of the gas pump back into place, Quinn jumped in her car and peeled out, shaking harder as Give Up The Funk blasted from her cell.
Mercedes. Her best friend since...ever. She was deep in the state of Pennsylvania, but she knew that if Mercedes got on her trail, her plan would be screwed seven ways to Sunday.
In desperation, she turned on the radio-feeling a cold stab of unexplained fear as the beginning notes of Don't Rain On My Parade blasted all around her. Instead of Barbra, she heard Rachel Berry's voice, loud and proud and strong.
The memories hit her hard and fast; brunette hair and bright eyes and a megawatt smile. Ambulances and a broken wail of a baby-wait, no, she was remembering Beth. Or maybe she was remembering Rachel? They were too jumbled in her sleep deprived brain, in her broken heart.
It was only when she had to blink away tears did she notice the cold sweat she had broken into. And that she was breaking the speed limit on Route 61.
And that there was a police officer pursuing her.
Licking her lips, Quinn hit the gas and went faster.
She was almost there, she could feel it, she could taste it. It tasted like fear and salt and chapped lips, but since she'd been seeing this place in her dreams, she wasn't surprised. The sirens wailed louder behind her, red and blue lights flashing rapid fire like the strobe lights at that fated Regionals.
She cranked up the music all the way, blasted by the phantom sounds of Rachel's voice and the scrambled memories of hospitals and fire and brimstone. Her phone flashed bright, the screen reading--
Quinn's lips parted.
The screen read Rachel.
Suddenly, just as Rachel (Barbra) sang out, “Get ready for me love, cause I'm a comer'!”, the radio exploded into static and white noise; but underneath the crackle, Quinn swore she heard the high pitched wails of a baby.
Wrenching her eyes away from the radio, Quinn focused on wet, black tar of the road.
Just as Rachel Berry stepped in front of her car, a finger raised to her lips in an order of silence.
With a shriek, Quinn spun the wheel hard to the left. The last thing she saw before the car crashed was Rachel, finger on her lips, eyes big and wide and sad.
Then Quinn saw nothing at all.