This is a story about a ghost, about one girl's dream to escape the desolate town she comes from and what gets in her way. There is no bloody murder. There is no house built on top of an ancient burial ground. There is no man gone crazy or person wrongly imprisoned seeking revenge. There is no corpse. There is no fear. There is no sickening tale of a body rotting on the side of road. This is a story about a ghost.

The words still lingered in the air, "When you were singing that song, you were singing it to Finn and only Finn... right?" 'No,' was stuck in her throat, a faux smile painted on her face. Rachel had watched Quinn almost break down in front of her, and she did nothing to stop it. She just nodded, embraced the blonde, and left.

Now Rachel stood, in her beautiful white wedding dress, staring down at her cell phone. The latest text read, "ON MY WAY". Quinn was on her way. Quinn would be there. Quinn would fulfill Rachel's fantasy. Quinn would tell her not to marry Finn. Quinn would sweep Rachel off her feet; kiss her deeply, passionately and truly. Quinn would be there.

But 5 minutes passed and no Quinn.

10 minutes passed and no Quinn.

15 minutes and Quinn was nowhere to be found.

"Rachel," bellowed Puck from the hall, "Finn says 'now or never!'"

She closed her eyes and saw in bold letters, "Now or never". Shall she opt for her dream where Quinn would be her mate in the never or accept the possible reality that never meant loneliness. Rachel closed her eyes, took a breath, and chose now.

As Rachel walked down the aisle, she saw the loving smile on Finn's face. She saw the love in his eyes, the tenderness in his lips. She felt Quinn's presence. She turned around for a second, but she was the only one to have entered.

"Dearly beloved…" the Rabbi began to speak and Rachel began to dream on.

Rachel saw her future colored white. A young Quinn was there. She was picking flowers in a thin nightgown. She'd pick one up, smell it, and put it in her basket. Rachel wasn't there, but she was. Rachel was the sun, the breeze, the flowers. Rachel was everything. And when Quinn plucked her from the other flowers and breathed her in, Rachel felt really real for the first time.

"Rachel, say I do…" Mercedes whispered, as she nudged her.

"I…" Rachel looked at the door one more time, no Quinn, "do."

Finn pulled Rachel into a tight kiss. She felt his hand on the small of her back. She felt his lips. She felt his love. But she still felt wrong. Quinn promised to show up, and Rachel believed her. Quinn was supposed to save her, whisk her off her feet and take her away. Quinn didn't show.

Rachel sat on her bed in her new dress. It was much more elaborate and somehow more elegant than her wedding gown. It was the color of lavenders, the flowers fantasy Quinn was picking. Rachel should have felt like a princess in it, because she surely looked like one. Rachel loved to host parties and be the center of attention. And this was her wedding reception…but she felt sick to her stomach. She married Finn. And she felt terrible.

"Rachel!" called Leroy from downstairs, "People want to see the Newly Weds not the Newly Wed." Finn must've been down there talking to Puck or something... Rachel sighed. She heard her father, Hiram, playing loudly on the piano. Kurt and Blaine were singing an oh-so-loving song. Down there, Tina must've been dancing with Mike. Mercedes must've been making up Sam. Santana and Brittany were probably snogging on the couch. It seemed so fun. Butalas, Rachel stayed in her room, to sulk in the silence that should've been filled with the sounds of Quinn.

"One minute Dad!" She put a comb through her hair and stared in the mirror. She stared at herself in the mirror for seconds before she ripped the necklace Finn got her off from around her neck. She couldn't wear it. It felt wrong. She dabbed her skin a little more with blush, and dug around in a jewelry box for a new necklace. She didn't find anything she wanted to wear.

Her father called for her again and then picked up a ringing phone. "Probably a relative," she hummed to herself.

"I'm coming!" She snapped as she slammed the door.

Rachel Berry was tucked away in a jewelry box. Rachel Hudson was born, then, on a bleek Saturday in February. Rachel scurried down the stairs to silence.

Kurt and Blaine had stopped singing. There was no lesbian snogging. Mercedes was still. Finn was frozen still, staring at his bride. No compliments went Rachel's way. The silence was sickening.

"What happened to the party…" She mumbled.

"Quinn was in an accident, honey," Hiram revealed the dark news, "she didn't make it."

And like that Rachel Berry watched her life wash away.

She saw the color fade out of the room. She felt all happiness die. She felt alone.