A/N: Okay, so this is the first installment of hopefully a collection of one shots. They're all based on a Twitter Roleplay I'm part of. I'll list the accounts below if you're interested in following them. Basically, this is Sebastian (yes, the Sebastian Smythe we all know and love) looking back on how his life was changed.

Hope you enjoy it.

Sebastian's Backstory

I keep remembering that night. That night, everything changed. Well, I guess things changed a bit before that; when my mom died. She left me to cope by myself. Okay, I had my dad but he was fucking useless by this point. My mom was perfect. Completely perfect. She played piano and had the most infectious laugh. There was literally nothing bad about her. I remember her so well. I mean, I was 11 when she died. I'm bound to remember things. I can't believe it's been 7 years since she died. Not to the day, but still.

My dad turned to drinking soon after she died. I hated him for not being there for me. I hated him. He lost every single ounce of my respect when he did that. Yes, he lost his wife, but I lost my mom too. I tried to be there for him, but it was hard when he only wanted a bottle of wine or a cigarette as comfort. I always tried to do the right thing by him – mainly because I was scared of what he'd do if I didn't. He never used to be violent, I think the drinking made him like that. He'd always feel really guilty that he'd hurt me, and I always knew it was an accident. That sounds like the worst excuse ever. But it's true. It hurt me more to see the only father figure in my life destroy himself through alcohol. But, one day he came home sober…and happy. I was confused, to say the least. I hadn't seen him happy in months. Not since before what happened. I kept my distance, as usual, just in case. I silently hoped that this was a one-time thing. That's weird, right? Wishing your dad would be drunk and violent. But, honestly, this man didn't deserve happiness. Not in my eyes. He got all dressed up, spun me some bullshit about how he was trying to turn his life around and left. He didn't come back that night. I wondered whether I should call him, see if he's okay…but I didn't. Even if I hated him, he was still my father. He came home at about midday the next day, still sober and happy. This, unfortunately, wasn't a one-time thing. He progressively got happier and happier and made me hate him more and more. I rarely saw him, if I'm honest.

Until one day.

I'd just got back from school. My school before Dalton. The door was unlocked, so I knew he was home. I went in and started going straight to my room, as usual, when I heard my dad's voice. He was laughing about something. Then I heard it. Another voice. A female voice. That was the woman I would later call my stepmother. Also, the woman who would change my life in ways no one should know.

Her name was Olivia. Well, it still is. And she's pure evil. I hate her so much. More than my dad. When dad and Olivia got married, I refused to be in the wedding party. I sat in an entirely black suit and didn't dance. I couldn't. It felt like my mom had died all over again. The wedding had all seemed so fake. Everyone smiling and dancing like they'd forgotten what had happened not even a year earlier. It was the same people at both events. Both the funeral and the wedding, but they didn't seem to care about that. It still makes me angry to think about that. Olivia barely paid any attention to me either. Not that I cared about that, she was dead to me before I even knew she was going to be in my so-called 'family'. This wasn't a family anymore, they were merely people I was stuck with until I could afford my own place.

A few months passed and nothing changed. I'd hoped that maybe I could learn to tolerate Olivia or the person she turned my dad into, but that was a false hope. She just made me hate her more – if that was possible. All she did was boss me around, tell me to do things that I didn't want to do. I confronted her a few times. Told her she wasn't and never would be my mom so she should stop trying. But those confrontations would always end in my dad sending me upstairs and coming to talk to me afterwards. The talk would go something like him telling me that I needed to get over my mom's death now. I was always left feeling angrier than I had started out.

Things started getting even worse in the run-up to my 12th birthday. Dad had started a job and he always worked late, leaving me and Olivia alone in the house a lot. We mostly avoided each other. If we had to be in the same room together, then we avoided eye contact and kept our distance. I found out that my dad would be working all night on my 12th birthday, which I was both angry and indifferent about. He never cared usually, why the hell should he pretend to care for my birthday? But it meant that Olivia and I would be alone in the house. I should have known now that it was a stupid idea. I should've gone to a friend's house or something. I just really shouldn't have been in that house. I shouldn't have let Olivia corner me. Or let her tell me that it was okay. I should've stopped being so scared and just punched her and run. I should've done anything but just let it happen. I mean, I fought as best I could, but she told me not to make any noise. And for some stupid reason I fucking listened to her. I will never ever forget the feeling of pure hatred in my heart for her at that moment, and the hatred I felt for myself afterwards. I was 12 years old. 12 years old and she did that. She released me from her grip, wished me a 'Happy Birthday' and left. I knew I had to tell my dad. I knew it. And I did, but he didn't believe me. He thought it was simply a way for me to try and split them up.

9 months later and Olivia gave birth to a little girl. Sophie Grace Smythe. Olivia told me what I already knew in my heart. I was now a father. A father at 12 years old. My dad overheard our conversation and told us to pass her off as my younger sister. I was too angry to listen properly, or to know what I was agreeing to. So, Sophie grew up believing she was my little sister and I learnt not to feel heartbroken every time she called someone else her 'Papa' or 'Daddy'.

She found out the truth when she was 6 years old, and I was 18. We'd been adopted by Cheryl and Dan by this point. We both called them Mom and Dad, because they were better than kids like us could've hoped for. Sophie overheard me and my boyfriend, Hunter, talking about it. Sophie's always been accepting and caring about everyone. She asked a few questions, then kept calling me 'Sebby'. At least she knows the truth now, I guess.

I'm thankful for the support I've had, and how things have turned out. But I won't ever forget what happened to me. I won't forget how I'm a father but not a dad. I won't forget being taken advantage of by my stepmom. And I most certainly won't forget the help and love I've found among my new family and Hunter. I just wish the nightmares would go away. I wish that Sophie could've found a different way into this world that didn't involve confusion for her. I wish for a lot of things, but in reality, I wouldn't have it any other way. It's made me who I am today.

A/N: Thanks for reading! I know it's short, but I didn't want to over do it.

The accounts are (put in front of the bits in bold):

Blaine - blainepuppy

Kurt - kurtkittycat

Cheryl - BlainersMomC

Dan - BlainesDadA

Rachel - missRBbroadway

Santana - AuntieTana69

Brody - BrodyWeston3

If anyone likes the idea of playing Sebastian in our Roleplay, then just let me know.