Whoo! Two updates in one day. Blimey. I think I may be onto something. lol.

Thanks so much to all that reviewed, favorited, story alerted, and reading and just liking what you saw. You're amazing! XD

I probably won't update until after season 3 starts up. I'm too excited to see what Quinn looks like! *gushes* \

Anyways. Babbling! Moving on. =3

Enjoy everyone!


I believe that one defines oneself by reinvention. To not be like your parents. To not be like your friends. To be yourself. To cut yourself out of stone. -Henry Rollins


Roughly 12 years later…

Its September.

I hate September.

Its September and that means that school will be starting up again in a week. As much as I loathed that institution I can't help but be a little antsy for Monday to get here already.

But know that that will be the only time you hear me say that.

Ever.

But sometimes bad things happen to good people…well decent, semi-civil individuals like myself.

But this year felt different. I felt different.

All my life I have been somebody else. Someone else living for someone else. It was like a never ending circle. Get here to go there. Never stopping. Sylvester made sure of that. A 15 mile run was her way of welcoming us back from our weekend every Monday morning. 4:15 on the fucking dot.

I loved running.

I hated running for her.

But I was the good little robot and played my part. The perfect Cheerio captain and an even better queen. And by better queen, I mean I was a royal bitch. I know this. I'd be mental not to admit it. But I didn't care. It was my time to shine and I'd be damned if I was going to let anyone walk over Quinn Fabray. I got enough of that at home. I didn't need it here. McKinley High was my play ground. My kingdom. And no one messed with Quinn fucking Fabray, unless they wanted to get smited down like the hand of God!

I'm intense. I know this. But it's how I operate. Or rather used to operate.

But that all changed once she came along. My little angel.

God I loved-love her so much. I miss her…

Ugh!

Don't think about that now Fabray. Tears are bad, remember.

You're right.

Yes, I am.

Ass.

Yourself.

Anyways, I ended up becoming a 16 year old statistic and it pretty much went downhill from there. Pregnant and homeless. Russell was too ashamed of his Jezebel daughter to think of what her living conditions and her health might be like once he threw his pregnant daughter out on the street. I wasn't even able to pack anything. All I got was Russell shouting whore in my face and pushing me out of his house and slamming the door in my face.

Heh. That was Daddy.

The rest of the year was a drama fest. My fault though but still, I try not to dwell on it. For obvious reasons.

But this year is different. It's the end of high school. The end of the reign of Quinn Fabray and I couldn't be happier.

So I might as well go out with a bang, right?

My thoughts exactly.

So first things first, I took back what I took for granted.

My body. It was mine. The only one I had and I was determined to take care of it. My way. Not Sue fucking Sylvester's way. Mine.

So I ran. I ran a lot.

I ran, not because I was ordered to and not because it was expected of me to stay fit or because I had something to prove. I ran because I wanted to. I felt like it. I liked the adrenaline coursing through my veins, heating my blood and setting a unique tempo in my heart, making it dance like an excited animal in my chest.

I was addicted to the rush. I was addicted to this new perspective in my life. The care-free feeling I had discovered for the first time. But I can admit I was becoming a little greedy. I didn't want this new thrilling feeling to end. I wanted more. I needed more. I needed something.

So I didn't stop at running. I signed up at the local rec center for self defense classes and kick boxing lessons. My mother was bewildered at my request for lessons, and asked me what was the reason for the sudden desire to do this. I shrugged.

'For the same reason you're asking. You wouldn't expect me to ask for it.' I told her simply. My mother raised an eyebrow at me. She paused for a moment, breathing deeply once and finally nodding.

I was in.

The classes weren't as rigorous as I first thought when I signed up. Though, it could have something to do with the fact that I wasn't out of shape either. Thankfully, that changed after a few weeks. The classes were getting more challenging and they demanded more of my body than I had expected. Once I realized this I smiled, knowing this is exactly what I was waiting for: the opportunity to push myself harder, to test myself and give my all. I was loving it. I needed this.

But there was still something amiss. There was something that was waiting to be discovered, that I had yet to yearn for.

I was proud with my progress so far, and the blossoming results to my body. I was toned before the classes sure, but never to this degree. My barely there six pack was now obvious and pebbled down my abdomen, and my oblique's benefited to. At least it's not gross looking. Well, for my body type anyway. I didn't need any more definition than this. I wasn't planning on pursuing a spot on the Cherrios again or any other sport for that matter so I wouldn't have a use for the results for my new physique. Though, I can't deny that being able to flex my biceps and triceps and seeing that satisfying bulge of muscle left me feeling powerful. I felt strong. I had a stature that spoke for itself, that I was not to be fucked with. I already had the attitude that struck fear in my former victims, now I had the body too.

But that's not what this was about. This wasn't about eliciting terror in the weak hearted and climbing the social ladder. Not anymore. This was about me. This was about finding the new me. The new Quinn and maybe rediscovering a little bit of the old Quinn along the way. The Quinn that could have had a chance if her father wasn't towering over her, scrutinizing every decision and over analyzing every microscopic twitch in search of something to get angry about. A flaw was a sin in Russell's eyes. A sin that rightfully encouraged punishment. A punishment that Russell was all too eager to dish out, it didn't matter what state of mind he was in. Angry. Drunk. Hating the world and hating his life and ultimately his family. Blaming his problems on money and his wife. It didn't matter to Russell Fabray if the only ones dealing with the consequences of his actions, his anger, was his family.

Wounds healed.

Scars, however, are a different story entirely.

And as I stand tall, posed, and naked in only my panties, observing the amazing results of the classes in my vanity mirror, I smile proudly. I was finally doing it. I was finally in control of my own person, not Russell. To hell with Russell. He could burn for all I cared. I wasn't that frightened little girl anymore. He couldn't scare her into submission anymore. He couldn't whisper in her ear any longer; telling her how her flaws over shadowed any greatness she could have let shown through, if she was only given the chance.

Because the truth was…Russell killed Lucy Fabray. Killed her dead. Lucy was never good enough for her daddy. But maybe Quinn had a chance to outshine Lucy in ways that she was never afforded. Maybe Quinn could prove Russell Fabray how wrong he was for over estimating her. Me. Me? No, not me.

What became of me after Lucy was put to sleep is a phenomenon I like to call Quinn 1.0. If anything Quinn 1.0 only became more obedient. After years of doing everything wrong and a slap in the face for her efforts, losing the weight, her braces andacne, Quinn 1.0 finally felt like she was doing something right. She felt satisfied with how she looked.

Then those fluffy feelings got shot to hell and then backed over by a semi truck.

Just take one guess.

Yup, Russell.

The truth was I never asked for the nose job. It never occurred to me to even get one at that age. I mean, I wasn't ashamed of my nose. I thought it looked fine. But Russell thought different. Russell said I needed it. And 'Daddy' would never lie to me, he told me.

'You want to be pretty don't you, Quinnie Bear?' He asked me one Wednesday night while Momma was at her book club meeting. I looked away from my program and looked at him oddly.

'Um…I guess so.'

He walked over to the love seat I was on and sat closely to me. He faced his body to me and slung his arm over the back of the couch, his hand twirling locks of my blonde hair around his finger, his thumb occasionally caressing the nape of my neck. I felt chills for some reason.

'Then maybe its best for you if you go see a doctor to take care of this.' He tapped my nose and smiled tightly at me.

I frowned and put a hand to my nose. Why would a doctor need to see it? What was wrong with it?

'I don't understand.' I said confused.

'It's ugly, Quinnie.'

I gasped. I felt like crying. Tears stung the back of my eyes and I felt the burn in my nose.

'I-it is?' I held my nose tighter. Oh my gosh. I was hideous, I thought. Momma always told me I was beautiful. Did she lie?

He gave me a fake sympathetic look and nodded. 'Yes it is my child. But Daddy will fix it and make everything better. Don't you worry.' He got up and kissed my forehead. He left me alone to cry wretchedly in my hands, the TV completely forgotten in favor of bawling my eyes out.

Not even a month later, I had the procedure. And Quinn 1.0 was born. All hale Queen Bitch.

I shook myself out of the dark. That was a bad time, sure. But that was in the past. This was my time. Not his. And certainly not Sue Sylvester's.

My body was mine. To treat however I wanted. I could eat what I wanted, sleep when I wanted instead of passing out at 4 in the afternoon from pure exhaustion due to my pregnancy. I could do with my body whatever I liked and that idea was freeing to me. It was mine to do with what I wanted and if I wanted to get an obscure tattoo on my back then so fucking be it.

I examined myself in the mirror again. That's actually not a bad idea. I smiled.

Ha! It was my choice. I finally had a choice.

And I was going to make sure that no matter what happened, whether my decision turned out to be the most asinine plan of all time, worse than what Finn puts out, then at least it was mine and I was the one finally calling the shots.

I was free.

And I was loving it.

I ran my fingers through my short blonde hair, rattling the strands a little. I puffed my cheeks and blew out a breath. I dare say that I'm halfway there.

But not quite.

I surveyed my room, taking in the basket of laundry I had yet to fold. I tilted my head to side, my attention focused on the pink sun dress that hadn't made it completely in the basket.

It was a pretty dress. But it was like all my other ones. Pretty. Feminine. Appropriate. Boring. But not me.

I sighed and frowned at my reflection.

It's a pretty pink though.

I pursed my lips and shook my hair again until I had reached an appropriate level of wild and crazy.

Perfect.

I bit my lip and drummed my fingers on my scalp. It still needs something. It needs…

"Quinnie! Phone for you."

"I got it!"

I grab the phone off the hook and put it to my ear.

"Hello?"

"Whats up, Q?"

Santana.

I smirked and looked at my almost nude reflection. "Standing naked in front of my mirror. You?"

A pause. "I'm sorry wanna run that by me again, loca?"

I giggled. "You heard me."

"I heard. I'm just making sure you heard what you said."

"I did. Don't worry. I'm blonde not brain damaged."

"That last parts debatable."

I roll my eyes.

"Yeah well my 4.0 GPA says differently."

"And you never let me forget it. Bitch." She chuckles.

"Love you too."

"So what are you doing? Besides fondling your lady bits, that is."

I laughed and poked my breast. "That's pretty much it."

A pause. "Okay. Who are you and what have you done with my pressed lemon?"

I frowned at the pressed lemon bit but shrug it off. This is Santana I'm talking to, after all.

"She's fondling herself in the mirror." I joke. A pause. "I'm kidding! Jeeze."

"Well how am I supposed to know that? You don't talk to me all summer and when we do talk you hang up abruptly with a bullshit excuse ten minutes later."

"But we did talk." I point out. She growls.

"Missing the point here, Q."

I sigh. "I'm sorry for not calling you. There. Happy?"

"Immensely. Now you can make it up to me and Britts tomorrow. I'm due for a new pair of shoes asap!"

"But you just got yourself a new pair of shoes last week. That you did tell me."

"So. You say this like it should have meaning."

I lightly bonk my forehead, eyes widened incredulously. "I know. Whatever was I thinking?"

"How am I supposed to know? You're blonde. Didn't know you knew how to use that pink thing between your ears." She snickers at her joke.

"Don't be too proud of yourself. In a way, you kinda just insulted Brittany and her pink thing." I giggled and ran my fingers through my blonde hair again. I made my way to the basket on my bed and glanced at the pink dress hanging out of it.

Pink between your ears…

"Shut your hole, Fabray! I wasn't-"

"That's it!" I shrieked.

"Ow! Fuck. Why are you yelling?"

"I need your help." I tell her urgently.

"No, you need professional help, mija."

"No, I really need your help with something." I say seriously. She's quiet for a second.

"Okay. What's up?"

I grin. "Does your mom make house visits?" I bit my lip and crossed my fingers. Her mother was an amazing stylist. If anyone could give me the look I wanted, it was her.

"Um…what?"

"Never mind. I'll tell you tomorrow when we go shopping for my new wardrobe." I said excitedly. Fuck. I was nearly there. I could feel it!

"You mean for my shoes. No one said anything about shopping for your white ass."

"Yes well, momma needs herself a new look." I smirked evilly. "and you're gonna help me."

"Come again, pressed lemon?"


I think that went well. Santana's probably checking her caller ID to make sure she is actually talking to the right person.

XD

Anywhoosy. Let me know whatcha think in a review. Feed my ego! lol.