A/N: I warn you in advance that this is a tough topic to write about and I apologize in advance if I have offended or brought up old memories for others.

"Hi, I'm Santana Lopez." She outstretched her hand to me, as her leg stretched on the bar in front of her. I took her hand and shook it, a smile coming from my lips.

"Hey, Brittany Pierce."

I didn't know that at that moment I was meeting the love of my life. Someone who would eventually mean more to me than anyone could ever mean to someone. More than my Barbie dolls or the fairies that play in my backyard who convince Lord Tubbington, my cat, to smoke, I love her more than all of that.

"Leave Brittany alone."

"I'm a bitch because I'm angry."

"I love you."

I never thought one person could mean so much to me before, not until she entered my life and now I feel terrible for her because I had the chance to stop her but I didn't. I had the chance to stop her from becoming another statistic, I had the chance to tell her that she means so much to me and that no one else mattered. That she had me and that I didn't care what the kids at McKinley thought or said about her because I knew the truth. I knew that she was sweet and caring and that she wasn't really a bitch like everyone thought she was, I had the chance to stop her.

But I didn't.

I live with the regret of knowing that we will never link pinkies again, or talk on the phone until I fall asleep on her – I always fell asleep on her and I would someone always hear her whisper, "Good night Brittany." Before she hung up the phone – I have to live with the fact that me and her will never get the chance to be together in public anymore.

I don't blame Finn for what happened, he was hurt by her words and wanted to fight back. All he knew was her weakness for me, her love for me, her insecurity of being outed, her heartache and her pain of being in love with another female. That's all he knew and he used that to his advantage. I want to hate him, but I can't.

I don't blame the girl who told her uncle about Santana and put it into his campaign; she didn't really know what she was doing. She just wanted to get her uncle to win that election and wanted to pull someone else down in the process – in this case, she wanted to bring down Coach Sylvester, but Santana came attached. I want to hate her, but I can't.

No one is to blame for what happened to Santana, except for me. She confided in me, told me what happened – I can still hear her cries in my ears as I write this – she held me close and I pushed her hair back placing soft kisses on her forehead, telling her it was going to get better, that she had me and I will protect her.

She pushed me away, told me I didn't understand, told me that this was her battle her fight and that she was going to lose everything she had worked four years just to get right. She had folded her arms across her chest, her eyes darting to the ground then looked at me slowly, "Including you." I was shocked by her words. She wasn't' going to lose me, how could she think that? I tried to convince her that I wasn't going anywhere, that I loved her more than I've ever loved anyone in the world, but she didn't hear me. She was still thinking about Finn and his words, she was still thinking about everything that happened in that hallway and in Coach Sue's office.

This was my mistake.

I should have stopped her from walking out of that door. I should have told her to come back and let me love her and whisper in her ears. I should have grabbed her hand and wrapped myself around her and wouldn't let her go until she couldn't take it anymore.

I should have. But I didn't.

I watched her walk out of that door and I did nothing to stop her. I did nothing.

Now I stand here, the rain pouring down on my blonde hair, my jacket and clothes wet from the rain as I place a yellow flower on her casket. I am crying, but no one can tell through the rain. No one can tell that I am hurt and wanting to wake up from this nightmare and tell myself that this was all just a dream, a sick twisted dream and soon I will wake up.

But, it's reality.

She's gone and she's never coming back.

I could have stopped her. I could have.