Quinn ran up to her bedroom, tears speeding down her face. She turned the corner into the room with purple wallpaper and a bed that looked like it came from a children's furniture catalog. The bed. The bed that got her into this whole mess. The picture of Jesus mocking her, the eyes followed her. She wanted to scream. She pulled out a suitcase from under her awful stupid bed. And plopped it on top of the sheets, pulling out babydoll dress after babydoll dress. A couple of cardigans. An every kind of ballet slipper you could imagine. The flats were endless. Everything was folded neatly into her suitcase. She was Quinn Fabray, of course everything was neat. She packed picture frames and books. Then she pulled out a box from under her bed. It had old diaries and home movies. The box was filled with memories. Then she thought. She had conceived her unborn child only feet above the box that held her childhood memories. That was beautiful. And a little bit dirty. But it was deep. She pulled out the first book in that box, it read "Burn Book." The letters were cut out of Tiger Beat and Seventeen magazines from when she was twelve. Sharpie doodles lined the cover of the pink scrapbook,

It was an December night in 2004, Quinn had gotten the Mean Girls DVD for Christmas, and as winter break neared an end, she invited her two best friends Brittany and Santana over for a sleepover to watch Mean Girls. When the movie came to an end the three evil eleven year olds conducted a devious plan even Regina George herself would find impressive. "Let's make our own burn book and blame it on Berry." a young Santana said.

"Her dads that are too gay to function don't expose her to any movies higher than PG and this is PG-13." Quinn said, crushing Santana's plan.

"Fine, then we'll just make a burn book and not tell anyone about it. Deal?" Santana asked.

"Deal." Quinn and Brittany both said as they came up with rude things to say about every one of their middle school classmates.

Quinn laughed at how stupid her and her friends were. She pulled out a picture of her at her first production of the Nutcracker. She was wearing a yellow dress and hair extension to make her look like she had perfect curls. Quinn remembered that day…

"Quinnie, don't move I need to spray this piece of hair down." Judy yelled trying to fix her daughter's blonde wig. "Mommy I want to play with the other kids." Quinn whined.

"Okay your hair looks good, make sure you remember your dances, I'll come back tonight to watch you." Judy said, fixing the bow on Quinn's costume.

"Now I can play." Quinn said relieved.

"Don't rip your tights honey." Judy said walking out the door.

Yet another reminder of how crazy her mom was.

The next was a photo strip from a photobooth. The bottom of it read "Noah Puckerman's Bar Mitzvah" Quinn remembered how fun that party was. Although her dad didn't fully approve of her going. "Okay I'm ready!" a thirteen year old Quinn said twirling in her party dress.

"A Bar Mitzvah, huh?" Russell asked.

"Yup." Quinn said, ready to leave.
"Remember don't say any of the Jewish prayers." Russell said before hugging his daughter.

"Daaad! I'm just going to my friend's party! Even Mercedes Jones is going and her dad works at her church or something." Quinn said.

"Fine. But it probably won't be as fun as the Chastity Ball in a few years Q." Russell said

"I'm sure. Bye dad Brit's mom is here to drive me." Quinn said. Quinn smiled, thinking about the stressful Bar Mitzvah circuit her 7th grade self went through.

The next item was a collection of DVDs. There was Friends, Boy Meets World, Sabrina the Teenage Witch, and Full House. Her sister, who was born in 1989, poked fun at Quinn for not being a full on 90's child. Quinn's curiosity for the 90's grew. For her 10th birthday she had received the boxed set of her favorite 90's TV shows. Of course Frannie, being much older than Quinn teased her for being so young. Quinn spent every weekend binge watching shows, when she wasn't trying to beat her sister at dance competitions. Frannie was the superior. Whether it be a dance competition judge or a birth certificate, Francesca Marie Fabray always won. Even her name was longer and more mature. Under the DVD archive was a picture of Quinn and Frannie, Quinn held a second place trophy and Frannie held a trophy and a plaque both that clearly showed the number one. Underneath that picture was another of a four year old Quinn and and eleven year old Frannie with a group of her friends, all playing with little Lucy Quinn Fabray. Frannie was crying in the picture as she watched her friends play with her younger sister. "That's when it all started." Quinn mouthed, storing the picture with the DVDs. She called her sister. To tell her that Frannie had won. Quinn was 16 and pregnant and homeless and Frannie was engaged and filthy rich. Frannie didn't speak. Frannie just said okay. She hung up.

The last thing, tucked in the bottom of the box was a diary. A diary all about her.

"Dear Diary,

It's me Quinn. Well it was my first day of high school. Today I signed up for Cheerios and Celibacy club. I met my new peers and teachers. I got some textbooks. Other than that it was pretty uneventful. Oh and there was a really cute boy named Finn. Well, all the other girls thought he was cute so I just agreed. The cutest boy in my grade at McKinley is Noah Puckerman, people call him Puck. He's a jew, and I don't think that daddy would like me to date him. Also there's a really ugly and weird girl named Rachel Berry. She's so gross I can't even describe her without barfing. Well peace out diary that's all for now.

Sincerely,

Q"

She packed away all the pictures and diaries and even the Burn book. She went into the bathroom to pack her toothbrush and hair accessories. "Quinn five minutes!" Her father yelled. She zipped up her suitcase. Laid down. And cried. She cried about the happy things and the sad things. All she did was cry. Then she left. Forever?