This is a little far-fetched, but an idea I've had in my head for a while. Hope you all enjoy!

"I never said it wouldn't take any work San," I retorted back at my bitchy frenemy, who commented on my slimming waistline, "It took a hell of a lot of work." Santana Lopez didn't say anything sarcastic back. She had this pleading look in her eyes, like I was hurting myself by exercising. It had been about three months since I had Beth; I wore a tankini for crying out loud for the summer! But no, the bitchy Santana wasn't there today. She only whispered a few words that I blocked out with my ears.

But her lips said, "Please don't."

"Damn girl, you worked off that baby weight fast!" Mercedes looked at my tiny waist, even tinier than before. I wore a simple black high waisted skirt with an oversized oxford tucked in, a little baggy in some areas. I wanted everyone to notice, seeing how hard I worked for the perfect body. Even Kurt raised his eyebrows just a little bit, smiling not only that I was out of baby doll dresses, but that I was still the hottest girl here.

"Quinn, looking good. Maybe I should root for the other team, eh?" Kurt waggled his eyebrows, showing off that little kid he was inside. I smacked his arm playfully, and he rolled his eyes in return, merely brushing off the non-existent specks of dust on the shoulder. "This is Armani, honey." He smirked, impishly.

Mercedes joined our little group, and we soon were on the discussion of my newest look, even though, secretly, I hoped Ms. Sylvester would see how skinny I was, and take me back.

I hated this part. My stomach ached and moan with misery. But the size four skirt I was wearing still made me feel fat. God, I was still so fat! I was a terrible, horrible person for putting Puck in that situation, for giving up my little baby Beth, who I cried for hours over every night, and for having sex in the first place! So, I moved my food around, took a few bites, and then threw everything away; ignoring the glare Santana was giving me. My phone buzzed in my pocket, but I ignored the warning signs.

"How about Quinn sings this song?" Rachel piped up, getting my attention. She was giving me a solo? How is this even possible! I put my attention onto the song. 'Whispering'. A song about a teenage pregnancy. I smiled, knowing that Rachel couldn't fully understand emotionally what it felt like. My stomach moan in pain, but I stood high, and sang the song.

That day Coach Sylvester made me head Cheerio.

A little part of me nagged about how tiny the Cheerios were, and how fat I was. I would look like a heifer in that short skirt and slim top.

I politely declined Ms. Sylvester's offer.

"NO FUCKING DUH QUINN! YOU ARE A FUCKING STICK! YOU CAN'T LIFT A FUCKING WATERMELON! HOW LONG QUINN, HOW LONG?" Santana shrieked in a fit. I put up my nose, and said I could to pick up the watermelon. It slipped through my fingers, and fell to the floor. Her eyes widened, and I had another headache. I snapped at her, "Leave me the fuck alone Santana. I look damn hot and you are just fucking jealous." She shook her head, as if the words rang in her ears, and she wanted them out. My head hurt too much.

Kurt handed me a size four dress. When I put it on, it fell off my body in a nanosecond. When I came back out, I said it didn't fit. He eyed me carefully, and found the dress in a size zero.

It was a little big, but I'd manage.

As we were dancing I felt dizzy. The world crept black at the edge, and I fainted for the second time that day.

I was too weak.

"QUINN! WHY THE FUCK AREN'T YOU TELLING ANYONE? QUINN FA-FUCKING-BRAY YOU LISTEN TO ME RIGHT NOW! OH FUCK NO, YOU AREN'T PULLING THIS VOMITTING SHIT ON ME!" I pushed Santana out of the way, and the taste of blood filled me mouth, as I heaved into the closest garbage can. She only rubbed me back, silently dialing her nine-one-one as I cried.

"Hello, my name is Santana Fabray. My sister has become anorexic, and has just thrown up blood. I'm at McKinley High." The voice was starting to fad, and the black welcomed me. It hurt to breath, so I fell into the blackness.

When I woke up the Glee Club was there. I was in a white room, and I felt dizzy again. I wanted to retch, but there was nothing to throw up. Only one person dared to ask me a few questions; Santana, my savior.

"How much did you weigh?"

"Seventy pounds, I think."

"But you are so pretty!"

"To you, maybe!"

"Okay, then, why?"

I had tears down my face by this point, only muttering a few words.

"Baby fat."