I heard Shelby was coming back for series 3, let's hope it's more interesting and less anti climatic than her appearance in series 1.

So here we are at the sequel. I have decided to go with the letters idea, and then there will be a third part on Rachel's recovery. So yeah, five letters, five people (unless the letter happens to be to a collective group, in which case it will be more than five people). I don't know whose letter to do first, I don't think it matters. What I do know is whose letter is going to be last.

Prologue

Dear Everyone,

By the time I have finished these letters to come, each of you will know your part in my story. Those of you who receive a letter are by no means the only people who deserve one, but if I were to write to every single person who has played a role into getting me where I am now, I would never finish and I must finish in order to ever move past this obstacle in my life.

It was Jules' suggestion that I write these. Jules is my therapist, and as much as I protest against needing one in such a situation, I believe she may have a point when she tells me I did not get here all alone. She wants me to dig into myself, my past and my present and find my own reasons. Find what caused me to end up here, in this part of my life. She says I need to know, because it is only knowing how that will allow me to overcome.

She compared it to climbing a mountain. Jules says this is probably the toughest, most challenging and highest mountain I am ever going to climb, and although I disagree, I must admire her logic. She explained, in order to climb a mountain, one must be well equipped. They must have everything they are going to need to get up it, ropes, harnesses, ice picks and whatever else mountain climbing requires, I would not know, I have never climbed one. These things, she said, are the support I will receive from those around me.

The next thing on Jules' mountain climbing list, is knowing the mountain itself. She said if I am ever to reach the top, I need to know just how high it is, the magnitude of it, the gradient, I need to know the temperature in each and every segment of the mountain, its coldest point, all the ledges suitable for stopping. I need all the information I can get, and this is where these letters come in.

They are about gathering information, finding out everything there is to know about this mountain so I can tackle it head on and defeat every part of it, calculate the safest and quickest way to the top. If I don't know it, she said, I will never make it. Not even if I have all the equipment in the world. So I have chosen the five people who I believe played the biggest role in landing me where I am now. Well, four people and one collection of persons.

The purpose of these letters is not to make you feel guilty, but to make you understand how you made me feel. Not only do I have to understand what got me here, but you do too. If you don't understand, you will never behave any differently, and even if I do get to the top, you will be waiting right there to push me back down again. So, I have thought long and hard over which five to chose, but I think, in the end, I made the correct decisions, although there are a great many more on the list, so if you think that's you, I ask you to please be careful.

Yours,

Rachel

Letter One

Shelby,

That introduction sounds cold, but then, I guess I learnt that from you. Even before we met, you had built up a barrier between us. Recording a tape, employing one of your own students to plant it. I don't know your reasons for contacting me in the way you did, and I don't think I want to know. It hardly matters since this letter is not about that, but what happened once you had.

No, that's not right. Your part begins before I knew the sound of your voice, your job, your name, your life. Your part begins before I even knew Jesse St James, before I performed at Sectionals, before I was even a member of Glee Club. I could go so far back with your story. I could give you each and every account of the times I thought of you when I was a child, the dreams I had, the questions I asked, all the thoughts I had, but you're going to have to take a whole ten minutes or so out of your perfectly structured day to focus on me as it is, I wouldn't want to take up any more of your time. I hope, at least, that is good enough for you.

I'll start with one memory. Just one time when I was seven years old. Of course by then I had noticed my family was different from the other kid's families, I had seen the other girls and boys with their mothers and fathers. At first, they were no different from me, they had two parents just like I did, but then I realised they had one of each sex, and wondered why I had no lady daddy. That's what I called them back then, and I asked my dads just that. Why I had no lady daddy.

They laughed at my phrasing and told me I didn't need one, I had them as my daddies and sometime when I was older, they would explain just why our family was different. I accepted this answer and left the conversation quickly, because Funny Girl was about to start in the next room and I didn't want to miss it.

But the particular event this is in reference to occurred one day in class. As I have already said, I was seven years old and quite content with the family I had. But not everyone was as accepting. There was one girl who has stuck in my mind over the years, as if was her comment that caused me to question everything I thought I knew and was ultimately, the start of all my insecurities. I suppose that means I should write her a letter, but she was only young. I don't think she deserves any real blame.

Karen, I believe her name was, asked me why I had no mummy. I told her what I told everyone else, that I didn't need a mummy, I had my daddies and they were more than I could ever wish for. Others accepted this, whereas Karen didn't. She told me I had to have a mummy, everyone had a mummy or else they couldn't be here, she said my mummy must have just not wanted me and given me to my dads so they had to deal with the burden.

For a long while, I believed she was wrong. I believed not everyone had a mummy and I was just one of those who did not. As it turns out, I was right. You told me that yourself, that you are my mother, but you are not my mom. Still, a time came when I was forced to accept I did have a mother, somewhere, and as the years went by and she did not come, I was also forced to accept what Karen's seven year old mind deducted, that you did not want me.

I went on believing that for the next eight years, until I was fifteen years' old and I received your tape. I heard you sing, I heard what you called me. Baby. I thought then, that Karen had been wrong, that I had spent the past eight years believing a lie and at last, I dared let myself hope. I hoped, that finally, I would have a mom as well. I hoped to be like everyone else, because although I loved my dads, I had heard many times that there is no bond like the one between a mother and a child, and that was something I wanted.

But our journey had barely began when you started building up the walls between us. Even in the auditorium the very first time we met, you sat behind me. Why was that? Was it because it was new and confusing, or was it simply because you didn't want to be near me? I tried. When you stood to leave, I took a leap and asked you if you wanted to have dinner. I shouldn't have done that, it was too soon, I was too clingy. Clearly, you thought so too. You said you would call me, and I wonder now if you ever would have done if I had not come to you, asking for your assistance with my costume. Did you ever intend to pick up the phone, or had you already decided I was not worth it?

Perhaps I am being too harsh. There was that hour, that one glorious hour in which I truly thought it could work. When you were helping me with my costume, and it was like everything I had ever dreamed of. It was like having a mom. I thought after that, we had made progress. I thought our relationship was headed somewhere, but clearly, you did not return the sentiment.

When we said goodbye, I felt it too, the awkwardness between us, but the difference is, I was willing to work towards a relationship, whereas you were not. I knew then that the hour spent was a lie. You had already been deciding how best to tell me you wanted nothing more to do with me. I should have seen it coming, you're an actress just like I am, and you are not the only one who can pull off an impromptu performance. I was really able to hide my hurt when you walked away from me for what I thought to be the last time.

It wasn't the last time though, was it? I came to you again, in one last desperate attempt to forge a relationship with you. That time, I knew better than to ask you to be my mom, you had made it more than clear you didn't want that with me. So instead, I asked you to be my coach. Not just my coach, but one to the entire Glee Club, alongside Mr Schue. I tried to lure you in gently, not expect too much from you at once, but it seems just I, was too much.

Do you remember what reasons you gave for rejecting my offer? You said you wanted a house, a garden, a dog. A dog. You wanted a dog, but you did not want me. Did you ever get that dog? And what about the garden, do you have that? I know you got one thing from the list. The thing that hurt me most of all to hear you say. You wanted a family. What is it that made you tell your daughter you could not be in her life because you wanted a family? Is a daughter not family?

The last blow from you came the very same day. You adopted Beth. Quinn's daughter. I knew Quinn, but you didn't. A stranger's baby was more to you than I ever can be, because she is good enough to be your daughter. Do you know Quinn now? Do you know she's another one on my list to receive a letter? She's tormented me for years now, but that, is another story. I have taken up enough of your time as it is.

But all this, this is just the story. You already know all of this. What you do not know, is you were my one hope. For years, I had fought to be accepted, to feel wanted by anybody. My peers, for the most part, act as if I am not there. The ones that do acknowledge me in a way I would rather not be known. Even the Glee Club, who are supposed to be my friends, do not want me. They tolerate me for my voice, but they do not want me. And my dads, the wonderful men you gave me up to who were there for me throughout my childhood were merely putting on a show. As soon as I was old enough to take care of myself, that is what I was expected to do. I do not even know where they are right now.

I believed you though, would change that. I believed a mother always loved her child, even if that child were the most hideous, disgusting horrible little creature you could ever imagine. But you didn't; and it was that which really made me think about who I was. I was someone not even a mother could love. I still am that someone. Did you know, the only thing anyone has ever complimented me on is my voice? And that includes you. I have nothing else of worth.

So then came a need to change. I knew losing some pounds would not make a difference to your perspective of me, that is not what your part in the story is about. Your part is about the drive. I knew I had been too clingy, too weak, too pathetic to be called your daughter., You are everything I am, and everything I am not. It is from you, I took the determination, the drive to work myself until I could no longer feel my body, I wanted to be strong, I wanted to push myself beyond my limits. I wanted to be good enough for you. The sad, pathetic part is, I still do, and that is the very reason I never will be.

Now, you have heard you part in my story and I want you to do just one thing for me. I want you to take this letter and make it into an origami swan. Or, if that is too much effort to spend on me, a paper air-plane. I want you to take the swan, or the air-plane, and depending on what it is, launch it out of the window, or send it across a lake. Once it's all gone, I want you to forget. Forget you have another daughter, forget I exist and enjoy your life with Beth. I want you to do this so that I too can forget and focus on being good enough for only myself.

Rachel

I bet you've missed the review button. The review button has missed you too. Why don't you have a reunion? It would put a smile on someone's face. Unless, of course, you just write 'this was shit'. Then I might AK you.