Hey everyone. So, I'm insanely nervous about this part as well, just because it came out less angsty than I thought. But I do have a general idea as to where I'm going to take this. I'm not going to make it super long (probably only 5 chapters, maybe less) but I do hope that you guys trust me with this story. I feel like I may be taking it to a weird place but I think I can make it work. Anyway, this is sort of a personal chapter. I've semi based the end bit on what happened my senior year and during my senior presentation though I've made some tweaks (as I've never had a baby nor have I met a Noah Puckerman lol). Okay, enough rambling! Enjoy!

I don't think anyone thought I'd actually give her away.

I'd teetered on the edge of insanity, trying to figure out what I wanted to do.

I wanted to keep her. To raise my little girl and see her grow, to hear her call me mom. I love her so much more that I thought I could love someone.

I can't give her the future I want her to have though. I want her in a loving home and I want her to get everything she dreams of.

I can't do that for her. I really want to but I'm 16, jobless, and practically homeless.

Puck would've helped but I think I'd hate myself if I was the reason we were condemned to Lima.

In all my classes, people stare. I'm a shell of something they never thought they'd see: a broken, fat disgusting (my boobs still haven't stopped leaking and sometimes I leak so much I get horrible wet stains on the front of my shirts) Quinn Fabray. It makes some of the prettier girls happy because now boys will pay attention to them (even when I was pregnant the boys would still prefer me over them. But now I've hit bottom and they've one upped me). Mostly though, I'll get looks of pity and confusion (sad that I had to do what I did but confused as to why I did it if this was what I was going to turn out like).

They shouldn't pity me. I've made my bed.

Only problem is, I can't find it in myself to lie in it.

Mr. Schue (he's the only teacher that stares at me as much as the other kids do) pulls me aside one day after Spanish. I haven't been to Glee in over a week and I can't seem to pay attention in class. He looks at me hesitantly before asking what he really means by asking me to stay after class. "Who did you find to take her?" He doesn't look at me when the words leave his mouth.

We never really talked about my deal with Terri. He only told me that he knew and didn't know what else to say.

I tell him that I found a nice family who live a couple cities over. "You're the only person in Lima I would've been willing to give her to. You're the only one who isn't a Lima loser." I shrug slightly and he gives me a sad smile.

He doesn't ask me how I'm doing because it's obvious. I'm not doing okay at all. I can't sleep (I don't even have a freaking home to sleep in. I've been sleeping on the mattress Mr. Schue used when he left his wife. It's back stage in the auditorium now and no one ever goes back there.) because every time I close my eyes all I can see is her face and I can't stop myself from breaking down into tears.

God, I really need to stop that. I made the right choice, I know I did. I gave my daughter a wonderful life. I need to stop being sad that I can't be the one to give her a good life.

I take in a deep shaky breath and ask if that's all he wanted to talk to me about. He nods and I start to walk away when he says one last thing. "I'm proud of you Quinn." I turn on my heel, my blonde hair which seems so much darker now flying over my shoulders when I look at him.

"Why," I ask, my voice shaky because once again I feel like crying. He has no reason to be proud of me.

"It takes a lot to do what you did… Your daughter will be thanking you one day." It's sweet but makes me sad because I doubt I'll ever see her again. "If you ever need anything, just ask."

I fake a small smile for the teacher (it's all I can manage to do right now) and then walk out of the room.

By junior year, my life's straightened out a bit. My parents took me back and we pretend like all of sophomore year didn't happen. I try not to think of her but everyday my mind somehow trails to what she looks like now, if she's happy, if she's safe.

I don't get looked at much anymore. I'm just another face among the crowd. I only stay in New Directions until they can find a 12th person. It's too hard to be in there now. I haven't spoken to Puck since the day after spring break last year and Finn barely looks in my direction. Everyone else is semi supportive but it's hard. They aren't sure what they can bring up and what they can't, or if they should mention anything at all. It's hard to talk to me though without bringing up the baby.

Junior year passes rather slowly (sophomore year seemed to go by so quickly. One minute I'm sleeping with Puck, the next I'm the childless social outcast) and I stay in Glee until right before Nationals (we're going a second year in a row. I'm proud of them but I just can't find it in myself to be apart of them anymore). They find some new freshman to join and when I meet her I tell her she's going to make a lot of memories in the club. "They'll become like your family," I say before I walk out of the music room forever.

Eventually though, senior year begins and as I'm doing my senior project, I realize I don't have much to show for my four years at McKinley High. Yeah, I was captain of the Cheerios for two years (not even a full second year…) and was a member of Glee (we actually got some slight respect when we won Nationals) but these last two years… nothing. I look through old yearbooks in the library and tear up a bit when I see my extended belly.

I cry less now. I think I'm more content with my decision but it still hurts. I wish everything could have been different.

When I give my senior presentation to a panel of three teachers, I dress professionally because we're supposed to. I wear a black pencil skirt and a yellow shirt I found in the back of my closet (I haven't worn it since I was pregnant; it used to hide my belly when I was too ashamed for the world to see my sin). Mrs. White (Panel member number 1 and one of the college counselors. She's always been nice to me. Most kids call her a bitch but frankly, I think I'd be okay if I grew up to be like her) tells me I look pretty and I smile politely in response.

I go through trivial things, showing them my awards and accomplishments (again, it's not much) and what not before I move on to my personal statement. It's then that for the first time in two years I mention my baby out loud. I tell them that everything I'm going to do once I graduate will be for my daughter because I can't amount to nothing. I don't want my daughter to think her mom's a loser, even if she'll never meet me.

I talk about how I feel like I've ruined Noah Puckerman's life, even though I tried with all my might not to. (Finn talks to me again; not as much and not in the same way, but he doesn't blame me anymore. That went away the day he found me crying in the auditorium on the mattress that had become my home.) I tell them I gave away our baby to save us but it seems that it back fired a little. "We're both better now, or at least I think he's better now… we don't talk at all but he looks better. We both look better than we did at the end of sophomore year…"

I talk about my parents and how my relationship with them has been strained ever since I got pregnant and how now when they say they're proud of me (I'm finishing this year off with a 4.5 and going off to UCLA in the fall) there's always a hitch in their voice, a look in their eyes that tells me they can never be completely proud of me. "I'm their damned daughter… I can repent all I want but I'll always be damned in their eyes." When I say that Mr. Woods (Panel member number two; he's in charge of detention. I've only ever encountered him two times in my four years. Each time I'd been scared shitless by the tall bald man) hangs his head, shaking it softly.

Finally though, I talk about my new found relationship and outlook on God. "I was always taught to be a good Christian daughter. To pray to the Lord and thank him for all the wonderful things he gave me, like my health, my family, and the materialistic things he provided. I was told that if I sinned I had to be truly sorry for it and confess. I was told that if I did that, then God would love me again. Yet, when I sinned, when I got pregnant, and I told my parents how sorry I was for it, they put me out on the street. I was a disappointment that could not be looked at. I, their pregnant teenage daughter, was the biggest piece of shame in their lives. When I left their house, I was mad. God didn't protect me. He left me without my parents when I needed them the most.

But then one day, I was walking down the street, and I passed by that little church on 65th. You know, that one with the two mini billboards? And they always have different quotes on it. Well, it was a pretty dark day, it looked like it was going to rain and I had stopped at the crosswalk across the street and I read the billboard facing me. 'The Lord our God is merciful and forgiving, even when we have rebelled against him.'" I smile. "That was the first time I felt her kick. And as crazy as it was, the clouds just sort of… went off and the sun came out." I run my hands nervously over my skirt, smoothing it out even though it lies flat against my legs. "It was probably just a weird weather fluke but I couldn't help but think that that was my sign. That as long as I still trusted him, He would help me through everything." I go on to mention how even though I was homeless for a portion of my sophomore year, I still went to church because I needed something to believe in. I needed the reassurance that this wasn't just some cruel joke; that we were put on this earth with a purpose and that I was valuable; that I wasn't cast aside because I had a baby before I was married.

"I still doubt Him sometimes. When things don't go the way I'd like them to or when I start thinking that I've made a horrible decision by giving away my baby. But then, I take a step back and remember how during my darkest hour He helped me push through." I stop talking and duck my head down now. A lump has formed in my throat and my eyes start to fill up with tears.

Ms. Starks (Panel member number 3; I'm not quite sure what her job is but she always seems like she has a stick up her ass. She's one of the other ones I had come to fear over my four years. When ever she'd talk to me, she'd ask me what my name is. "Be happy I don't have it memorized," she'd tell me.) is the first to speak.

"I've seen a lot of senior presentations over the years," she begins, readjusting her gold wire frame glasses. "And a lot of them have been more personal than I think the teachers and students expected." She stops again and I swallow hard. "But I don't think that any of them have gotten to the point where they are so personal that I can't even speak. You have shared every bit of yourself with us and you really didn't have to. You could've spouted off some crap that barely scratched the surface and saved yourself this semi emotional breakdown. But you really gave it everything. You put your all into this and I'd just like to congratulate you for it. You're a wonderful person Quinn Fabray and you deserve to be 100 percent proud of yourself."

Mr. Woods and Mrs. White nod next to her, both spouting off similar things and when I go to leave, Mrs. White stands up and hugs me.

Later, I do cry again. It's a happy cry this time though.

There's a party the night before graduation. A bunch of the seniors are going over to the park off of Alhambra and I go because it's my last hurrah. I feel out of place but some of the glee kids are there and they come up and talk to me so I don't feel like such a loner. I'm laughing (I don't think I can remember when I last laughed) and I really thank God for these kids. Artie's making a joke about what Mr. Schue did today in Spanish (Kurt sets up what happened in the class so I don't just blankly stare at Artie because I won't get it without the back story) and it's then that I see Puck across the lawn. He's looking at me and I bite my lip.

Kurt whispers into my ear, "He's leaving for San Diego State in July." He nudges my shoulder. "You can't leave so much unsaid."

I agree with him but I honestly wish I didn't. There's a reason we haven't spoken in two and a half years. We're not over what happened (not deep down anyway) because if we were, we would have already had this talk.

Kurt nudges me again and I start to walk across the green grass.

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