Chapter 1: Sit around the table and let's play

The second hand clicks and the timer takes off. you draw a shaky breath and try to steady yourself. Bile is already rising against your will and you hear your mind chant, no, no, no, not this. It's funny now, how you see life flash before your eyes like you're facing certain death. It's already been over thought and you squeeze your eyes shut, tighter this time, forcing yourself to inhale, exhale. Breathe. It wasn't supposed to happen, you know it wasn't and you know this was your fault. The regression driven guilt pools in your stomach and hot tears burn in the back of your eyes.

You already expect the worst, but what scares you is what happens next. You can't, you won't. It goes against your own values, morals and everything in between. You consume more chemicals because you'd rather stay a vegan than to harm an ant's life. A life is a life, no matter how small the size. That's want you believe, so you can't bring yourself to do that to her. You wince, realizing you've already accepted the gender?

It's a social construct, you remember hearing Quinn telling Santana during the reception.

You know you're procrastinating but it's out of your hands. Your mind swirls almost abruptly back to Valentines day.

Despite coming down from the high just seeing the ex-cheerios a couple of weeks before, you remember the way your heart thudded a little faster when they strolled in a few rows behind. Then Kurt catches your attention and discusses how rooming is going to be now that you have four, instead of two people living in the same apartment. Not mention cranky Santana early in the morning and the arrogance of Brody strutting around at the same time. Kurt tells you he would like to have some peace for a few minutes a day, thank you very much.

At the reception, all you remember were getting lost in Finn and in the corner of your eye, watching out for Quinn, and Santana of course. Finn. He's always brought out the extremes in you. Your relationship had never started on the right footing, with you chasing after the head cheerio's boyfriend, for a start. The brief honeymoon period glossed over with his affair with Santana while you were with Jesse at the time before you started to make decisions to be with him instead of for yourself.

You remember how, time and time again, a certain blonde had warned you against your impulses and unbridled emotions, and how you blatantly ignored them every single time. It took nearly her life before you started to realise the destructive force of your relationship.

Lima reminds you of the past and you unknowingly sink back into your past. Finn was never supposed to happen this time. You just got so sidetracked, wounded by the loss of the diva-off, the suddenly new "modern" relationship with Brody, the residual excitement of seeing Quinn in New York and having the world sweep you back to Lima, Ohio.

Standing on that stage with Finn, singing the duet as you train your eyes on the couple set you back to prom, only this time, instead of convincing yourself to gaze longingly at Finn, you let your eyes rest on how they swayed, how Santana's hand rested around her neck and the smirk in both their eyes as they caught on to the meaning before you did. You knew they've always been closed, but to what extent? You never let yourself question it. Out of bounds, your mind would constantly remind you. Yet you couldn't help but feel the thread of jealousy (envy, you say) rest gently in your stomach, tugging at the knot ever so slightly.

You would never let yourself slip like this under normal circumstances; making all these wrong decisions, sleeping and slipping further into the brevity of your mistakes, shunning help at every step.

So much potential, you hear them say. You think back to your loving fathers who scrimped and saved at every last penny so that you could fulfil your dreams. They never told you to get real, no. They pushed and surged you forward. You don't repay them like this, you can't.

In the moment you imagine how Quinn must have felt when she went through this. The weight of future's uncertainty hanging heavy on your neck as time crawls and speeds up at the same time. You want to know and you're deathly afraid.

Pulling your lip between your teeth, hands tremble as they grasp at the tender edges of your skirt, as if that would calm the storm brewing within your chest and your head. Nails dig into your palm through the fabric and you bow your head low. It threatens to wreck your soul as you feel your throat closing up and the heat choking your heart. You gasp shakily, feeling the sharp breath rattle angrily against your chest. The hollow within echoes loud.

The phone chimes and shatters your reverie. You can't stop yourself as you blindly grasp the stick, feeling the overpowering need to know wash over you and you look.

Emotions fight for supremacy as you clutch it tighter, you hear Santana pounding away at the door, yelling at you to open up. Pleading for mercy, you risk a glimpse and you see-

A line.

You sink down to the floor, silently thanking all the gods that snatched the almost life out of your hands.

Last chance, you can almost hear them say. We'll really take another's the next time.