Title: (Don't know. I'm open to suggestions.)
Pairing: Rachel/ Santana, maybe Quinn/Brittany
Rating: PG-13 for now
Summary: I truly do love you. I know at school nothing can change.
Warnings: Attempted suicide
Disclaimer: I own nothing
A/n: I'm not promising greatness. This is what happens when you put a writer in a class that they have no interest in. College is the same as high school that way. I think on Veronica Mars they said that high school is the closest thing we have to institutionalized torture. If that's true, then college is torture you pay for, and not in the good way. This is unbeta.
Part 1: The Message
You can't see me. You don't hear me. I talk too loud, too much. I ramble on forever, hoping to get your attention. Hoping you'll hear something. Most of the time if your attentions are turned my way, it's because you're insulting me. That's okay. I understand that using words most only find in a thesaurus can be trying. I know, at times, I can seem more eager than a puppy begging for treats. I'm too dramatic. I know that you think I can out diva Mariah Carey or Whitney Houston combined, on a good day. I can be over enthusiastic, especially about Broadway and Glee. I'm sorry. It's just that, that's all I have. My mother didn't want me. My fathers are never home. Puck wanted sex, Jesse was playing a part and Finn only wants me when he can't have me. You weren't much better. The only difference was, I only thought I loved them. I truly do love you. I know at school nothing can change. You're a Cheerio. You've got a reputation to protect. I know I'm not worth messing that up. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I've been such a burden. I promise you won't have to put up with my voice or argyle ever again. No one will. I love you Santana Lopez. I hope you have an amazing life.
Love Always,
Rachel Barbra Berry (Gold Star)
I'm looking at the piece of paper I've been handed uncomprehendingly. I can't seem to get my mind to work. I just don't understand. I look up to where the person who wrote the note should be. Her seat is empty. I then turn my head to face the normally bubbly blonde sitting next to me. My best friend had a confused look on her face.
`"S, its not a happy note, is it? Rachel said it would make you happy. She said it was part of a surprise. But your don't look happy." Brittany's brows were furrowed adorably. In another universe I might have fallen for her, but in this one my heart belongs to a petite brunette. Although if what little my mind can process of said brunette's note, I haven't been doing a very good job of showing her.
I felt a dead weight settle in the pit of my stomach as what Brittany said penetrated my thoughts. "B, what are you talking about? What surprise?"
"Don't know. She asked me to give you the note and then… something else. I'm supposed to take you somewhere." The blonde's eyebrow furrowed as she tried to remember. Finally her lights lit up. "I'm supposed to take you to the Auditorium. Come on!" Brittany grabbed my arm and began dragging me out the door. The rest of the Glee club had realized something was happening and followed us, probably hoping to get some dirt. I was too dumbstruck by being yanked on by anyone, minus Coach Sylvester, to notice them.
When, after pushing open the Auditorium doors, we walked in I felt relief. No sign of the pint sized diva. My relief is short lived as I notice a lab top sitting on stage. There is a widow holding what looks like a video on the screen. It takes me a minute to realize it's a live feed. What I see causes me to freeze in absolute horror.