The Bitch of Gleeing

“I loved you.” The three words he had murmured before cracking an egg on her head. The three words that had broken her heart. And now he stood here, smiling at her nervously.
“Hi Rachel.” She almost broke down in tears. Instead, she got angry.
“What are you doing here?” She snapped, “Did you lure me here so I’d talk to him?” She flipped her head around to Mark, glaring at him accusingly.
“Uhhh...” he stood scratching the back of his neck looking guilty, “Mercedes, would you join me in the kitchen please?”
“Oh, hells yeah. I do not want to get involved in this,” Mercedes replied, hurriedly following Mark out of the room. Rachel glared after them, long after they had disappeared. She didn’t want to turn her head, didn’t want to look at him. She was scared. Scared of what he was going to say, of what he wanted her to say.
“Rachel, I’m sorry.” She dropped her head to look at her feet, still avoiding him, “I was stupid, selfish, I should have stayed with you, I shouldn’t have let my friends in Vocal Adrenaline influence me. I love you Rachel.”
“You should have thought about that before you smashed that poor, helpless baby chicken on my head!” She exclaimed, finally looking up at him, tears in her eyes, “Besides, I’m with Finn now, I’m not going to leave him.”
“Finn doesn’t appreciate you like I do! Can’t you see? We were perfect together.” Rachel wanted to deny it. She wanted to tell him they weren’t, that she was perfect with Finn, that he should just forget the time they had together, but she couldn’t. She still had feelings for him, feelings she hadn’t realised until she was alone, here, with him, Finn nowhere in sight.
“I-I can’t Jesse...” Was all she managed to stumble out. He stepped up to her and pulled her into his arms.
“You can Rachel.”

◆◆◆

“So how do you know Jesse anyway?” Mercedes asked, leaning back against the kitchen counter.
“Well, he’s kinda my best friend. I was in Vocal Adrenaline before I transferred to McKingly,” Mark shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant.
“No way,” Mercedes exclaimed, staring at him wide eyed, “How’d they let you go? You have so much talent, I would have though they’d keep you locked up.” Mark blushed a little and reached up to scratch the back of his neck.
“Well, I kinda needed to start fresh somewhere, y’know? Plus I kept turning up late for rehearsals, they weren’t too fussed when I said I wanted to transfer.”
“Why did you transfer?” Mercedes asked gently. Mark bit his lip, watching her for a moment.
“If I tell you, you have to promise not to tell anyone else.”
“I promise,” Mercedes nodded. Mark took a deep breath.
“My mum passed away last year, she was in a car crash, and dad took it pretty hard. I was
never particularly close to either of my parents, but I did get along better with Mum. After the crash, Dad started drinking. At first it wasn’t too bad, he’d just sit on the couch and drown his sorrows, we didn’t really have much contact. But then he started getting angry. I think he just had all these pent up emotions about himself and how he failed Mum, he had to find an excuse to take them out on something. That something was me.” Mercedes let out a tiny gasp, staring at him, complete horror in her eyes.
“He abused you?” She whispered. Mark let out a short, sarcastic chuckle, staring at his feet.
“It sounds so formal when you put it like that.”
“Well, how bad was it?” Mark finally glanced up at her for a moment, before slowly unbuttoning his flannelette shirt to reveal several bruises and a huge, ugly scar that cut across his torso from his right shoulder, disappearing into his jeans at his left hip. Mercedes gasped again, louder this time, covering her mouth with her hands as she stared at his scar, tears in her eyes.
“One night he got extra mad and threw me into a window,” Mark murmured.
“Mark, you have to tell someone. Go to the police or something,” Mercedes said through her hands.
“No. No way. I don’t want to cause trouble. I came here to live with my uncle, I transferred to McKingly, so I could get away from it. That’s why you can’t tell anyone,” he insisted, almost begging her to stay quiet. Mercedes hesitated, bitting her lip. “Please Mercedes.” She went to reply, but was interrupted by Jesse walking into the kitchen, poker face on.
“Rachel just left Mercedes, you might want to go with her unless you came in separate cars.” Mercedes glanced at Mark one last time to see him pleading with her through his eyes.
“I’ll see you later Mark, thanks Jesse,” she murmured before leaving the kitchen.

Jesse raised his eyebrows at Mark, giving him a knowing look.
“Shut up,” Mark replied, shaking his head at Jesse.
“I didn’t say anything,” he replied, holding his hands up in surrender. Mark just shook his head at him.
“How’d things go with Rachel anyway?”