A/N: So, it's AU, obviously. Most likely gonna be Faberry unless I have a personality switch halfway through, but whatever. You never know.

Uh, trigger warnings for lots of stuff; suicide, depression, eating disorders, self-harm (possibly) and maybe other things. Sorry.

...

She stares at the label on the pills - TAKE ONE TABLET BY MOUTH HALF AN HOUR BEFORE YOU WISH TO GO TO SLEEP - and the label on the mouthwash - INGREDIENTS: WATER, ALCOHOL (15 WT%) - and wonders what her mother would do if she found her daughter on the bathroom floor, cold and dead and blue.

She's not suicidal, because suicide is a sin "that hurts the soul of God", but if she wasn't religious, or if she didn't care about whether she went to hell or not, she thinks she would be.

But she's not, because she is religious, and she does care about whether or not she goes to hell - because burning for eternity would be just a tad uncomfortable. Even more uncomfortable than trying to squeeze into size 9 jeans because she refuses to be bigger than a size 11.

The discomfort is worth the look that had lit up Judy's face when they were school shopping and Lucy had mumbled, "I'm a nine, mom," when she had walked to the cart and seen 12's and 14's resting daintily in the bright red cart.

She knows Frannie was a size 2 when she was a freshman. How could she forget the way her sisiter could wear size small shirts - extra small, sometimes, depending on the brand - while Lucy had to wear large men's hoodies to hide her less-than-toned abdomen and extra skinny jeans from the women's section in Target.

It's not that she hasn't tried to loose weight - she has. But she's too embarrassed to prance around a dance studio in a large tutu while everyone else sports a medium. She tries to eat right - her mom makes crazy healthy meals everynight for dinner - but nothing seems to change fast enough.

She knows it's unrealistic to expect one chicken breast and a third of a cup of brown rice with a side of brocolli to change anything dramatically. She really, really does.

What she doesn't know is if speeding up the process by sticking a toothbrush down her throat is a sin or not. She's not sure if they had bulimic's in 125 B.C., and she doesn't think it says anything about it in the bible.

She's too afraid to check, because something that feels so wrong - the dry heaving, the toothbrush hitting the back of her throat - and so right at the same time - the feeling of an empty stomach, and feeling pretty, even though she just vomited half digested food into the toilet - has to be a sin.

So she doesn't do it often. Partly because it's uncomfortable and her mouth tastes like bile and whatever they had for dinner for the rest of that night, and partly because her mom caught her on her last binge and she's been going to therapy for it ever since (therapy isn't cheap, and she doesn't want to waste her dad's money, so the only things she brushes with her toothbrush anymore is her teeth, not the back of her throat). But mostly because it could be wrong, according to God, who loves all people except those who sin. He sends those people to hell.

And she doesn't think she could take it if God didn't love her - just like her mom and dad and Frannie don't, because she's not the Fabray kind of perfect like they are.