This is most definately just a oneshot. It's a little sad. Enjoy!

The head stone reads that she died on December 25th 2012. Beside the grave lies a tiny little notebook. On the front in bright, bold writing is 'Rachel's Journal' and underneath in a small neat script is written 'my stupid book that I have to write in or I can't leave this place'. A boy about eighteen dressed in only the best designer clothes kneels down and picks up the little notebook. Aware that he was about to read about her last year, he opens the notebook and forces his line of sight to draw across the pages.

January 1st 2012

Happy New Year! Am I happy though? Of course I'm not. I'm in this stupid clinic aren't I? The only reason I'm writing any of this stupid crap down is because my psychologist thinks it'll be good for me. She's an idiot. I know what's good for me and it ain't writing anything down.
I miss my family though. They only come to visit once a month. They used to come every week but the staff told them that in order for me to "rehabilitate" I needed be left alone for longer. So I get visits once a month from my stupid family.
I made a New Year's Resolution though. I promised that by December I'd be better. I want to be better. If I don't get better and if I can't leave this place then I'll leave this world. I think, right now, I'd be happier dead than alive. I've no friends here. It's so horrible.
I'm sure that when I get out I won't have any friends left; I had only one friend before they sent me here but even he doesn't visit anymore. I guess I was never good enough for him. Oh well. I'm in a place of loneliness anyway.

January 15th 2012

A new boy came today. I wonder what it's like being the new kid in a place like this. I can't remember I've been here that long. He's cute, really cute. And he had this big smile on his face when he arrived. It made him seem like he didn't even belong in this "rehabilitation centre". His smile seemed too happy, too bright, and too genuine to be that of a boy with such severe mental illness that he's here in this place. He's so tall as well. Maybe, one day, we could be friends. I'd like that.

January 16th 2012

His name is Finn Hudson. He came up to me at lunch and he introduced himself and told me that I was only person in this place that looked worthy of being friends with. He said that I looked like I had enough self respect and sense to avoid stupid things and he liked that. When I asked him how he knew that he said he just has a feeling. I think I'm going to like being Finn Hudson's friend.

March 18th 2012

I know it's been so, so long since I wrote here but I've been happier lately. Genuinely happy. The psychologist thinks that if I keep going the way I am than I should be out of here in no time at all. It's all Finn really. He makes me happier. He's my best friend. He makes me feel things that no other person, male or female, has ever made me feel before. I really like him a lot. Maybe he likes me too. I like it if he liked me too. I want him too. I think life would be brighter if Finn Hudson were in it for a long time.

May 2nd 2012

He told me he really liked me today and then he asked if I would be his girlfriend. I said yes of course. And that's when I told him I loved to sing, that singing is my passion. I sang for him. I sang songs of happiness and love, because we have enough sadness in this clinic anyway. Imagine that? Two severely depressed eighteen-year-olds singing about happiness! You can imagine the shock the nurses got when they heard us.
I'm eating more now. Like I'm really eating. Finn said that if I didn't eat then he wouldn't talk to me because he hates to see me suffering the way I am, so I promised him that I'd eat and I'd look after myself. I promised him that I'd work really hard at getting better. He said that maybe soon I'd be healthy enough to go onto medication that would get me out of this place. But I don't want to be without him. He makes me better.

June 29th 2012

He loves me. He actually loves me. He said that he loved me from the moment he saw me on January 15th. I told him that it was impossible and he said that anything is possible. He said that he hopes I love him back. I think I do, I think I really love him. I told him I loved him anyway. Yes! I love him. I'm. In. Love. Oh my god. How is that even possible? I'm eighteen, I'm depressed and I'm in a mental health clinic. Crazy people don't fall in love. Do they? I don't know anymore because it sure as hell feels like I'm in love with him. I refuse to let some stupid shrink tell me that I'm not. I think life is actually getting better for me.

July 16th 2012

I'm on anti-depressants. Finally! I want to go home. This place has been torture for me. There's nothing worse than being in a mental health clinic without contact from the outside world. The only good thing about it has been the months that I spent with Finn. He's helped me get better and he thinks that soon he'll be allowed to leave and we can live together in New York and I can have a wonderful Broadway career and he'll be an actor and we'll have the most talented kids in the world. That's what he whispers to me every day. I'm so glad that I have a boy like him in my life. My best friend from back home was a boy but he was gay and not as nice and wonderful as Finn is. I think I'm going to miss him being around when I leave here.

August 12th 2012

I'm going home today. I'm finally going home! I'm so, so happy that I don't have to be here anymore. I'm glad that I never have to see this stupid place again; I never have to write in this stupid book again. I have my meds and my Dads have been given strict care instructions. The shrink says that I shouldn't really come back here if I want to make a full recovery but I have to. My boyfriend is still in here. I won't leave him to suffer on his own. I promise you Finn, I promise you, that I will always come back here to visit you. I'll visit you every day until you get out of here! I love you, baby. I love you.
I have to go. I need to pack this away my Dads just got here. Goodbye "Armadillio Rehabilitation Centre For the Mentally Ill and Suffering" and I never want to be in here again! Bye you stupid book!

November 8th 2012

I know I said I'd never write in here again but I wanted to. I feel like the book deserves an update on my life outside of the clinic. Life has been doing really well since I got out of here. Kurt's still my friend, he explained that his Dad refused to let him see me when I went into the critical zone in the clinic. Something about my own safety. But he was waiting for my arrival when I got home and we had this great reunion. Oh man, I missed him so much!
I'm still visiting Finn every day. And I'm driving there myself. I finally got my license. I couldn't get it while I was in the clinic because I'd been in there since I was fifteen. But now I can drive I don't have to ask my Dads to drive me to clinic every day and I can go by myself. Finn says he's so happy to see me finally getting better. I said to him, "Baby, you wait. You'll be out of here soon enough." He told me he knows and he'll be joining me soon. I can't wait until he's better enough to leave that awful place.
I'm not writing here again because I just know that everything's going to go great from this moment on. I know that I'll never see the white walls of the rehabilitation centre again.
Love and kisses, Rachel Berry. *

December 20th 2012

Worst. Christmas. Ever. I can't... I can't begin to explain how horrible I feel. He's... He... I can't even write it down. It makes me cry to just think about it. I thought he was doing so well! He seemed to be getting better! He told me he was getting better! Why'd he lie? Why'd he lie to me? He lied, he lied, he LIED! He killed himself!

December 21st 2012

I went to get some of his stuff today. It broke my heart. I met his parents. They were so nice and loving and kind. They gave me hugs and assured me that I made him happier. I don't believe them. If I made him happier he wouldn't have done it. He wouldn't have left me.

December 23rd 2012

His funeral was today. I almost didn't get up to go to it. How could I? He left me behind. He left me here. I was getting so, so much better in the thought that I could spend the rest of my life with him. And then he killed himself. I went to his funeral though. I want to honour his memory some way. I just wish, wish, wish I didn't have to be alone again. I miss him.

December 24th 2012

The nurses at the clinic found a letter that he'd written to me today. They brought it to my door and said it was for me. I cried right there in front of them. I couldn't hold it in. I read the letter over and over. It's the only memory I have of him. It read this:

Dear Rach,
Oh my god, baby. I love you so much. I wish I wasn't about to do this to you. I wish I wasn't about to end it all. I was happy with you baby so don't you dare blame yourself. Don't you blame yourself, Rachel, because I know you are. It's not your fault that I'm doing this. It's so not your fault. Stay strong for me sweetheart.
I'm so proud of you. You did everything you promised you'd do. You got out there and you made your life better and for that I say well done. I know you wanted to help me. I know how much you wished that I would get out. But I was never going to, babe. It was always going to end this way. I had planned to end it all. But when I met you I fell in love and I had to wait, I had to help you first.
That's what I did. Don't you see? You're the reason I lived that little bit longer.
Rachel, I love you. I will always love. Stay strong and move on for me baby, promise me.
Love your beautiful boy, Finn.

He planned it. Right from the beginning he'd planned it.

December 25th 2012

I can't live without him anymore.

Kurt places the notebook back beside her grave and wipes away the tears. He gets up, shoves his hands in his pockets and walks away. He'll visit tomorrow, and the day after that until it's acceptable to stop coming. He thinks it'll never be acceptable to stop. Kurt looks back at the headstone and a tear falls down his face again. He feels guilty because he had no idea. He wishes he knew so maybe, maybe he could've helped her. But he knows she's where she's always wanted to be since she was fifteen. And he takes happiness from that little thought.

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