#x.starters

“You’re too perfect to play ‘Dahlia’, Ms Fabray”

It was a sentence that constantly played in Quinn’s mind, just one simple sentence that wasn’t even meant to be negative or condescending. Just an opinion for Quinn to take note of a go away with but it stuck, stuck deep in her mind and constantly screamed like Sue Sylvester was right behind her with a megaphone yelling orders all over again.

Her mother was worried because she hadn’t heard from her daughter in nearly two weeks. It was intentional because Quinn was preparing herself every single day the moment she was given a script for the play, locking herself away in her hotel room. Only answering the door for room service when they brought her things. Her intake of food had dropped dramatically, she needed to be thinner, gaunt to match the state of a homeless teenager, her skin had paled from the lack of sunlight and grey bags formed under her eyes. The make up department would be happy because Quinn had their job completed. The only time she ventured outside was to head down into the underground. Just like Dahlia would, sit herself against a pillar just like Dahlia and listen to the trains zooming past, as they did she would scream, scream her lungs out just like Dahlia. Every night she would do that and would think over that moment when she later crawled back to her hotel room, thinking over the fact that no one batted an eyelash in her direction. They heard her, they even looked at her the moment she screamed, but no one went to her side and asked what the problem was. They just ignored her.