I apologize for the wait, but I found out me and my family are up and moving to another state in a month and I had a lot to deal with. I hope you enjoy this chapter.

One more finished, only six more goodbyes until I've made my peace. Six more people who changed me in some ways or another. Some of you tried to help me, and you will be spoken kind of. Others, the ones who destroyed me worse than even Mercedes, well you will have your turn. Now, it is the one girl's turn who I blame little, despite her involvement. She was swayed by the decisions of others and her herself so sweet it is nearly impossible to dislike her, let alone blame her.

Out of all the people, you are probably the most confused, are you not Brittany? Sweet, sweet little Brittany who loves life so much you can't imagine why someone would take their own, can you? So basked in innocence, skipping through the meadows of your mind's creation, you cannot someone being in so much pain. So sweet, so kind, little Brittany. When someone was down, you tried to help them, whether it was your best friend Santana, or quiet Artie in the back of the room. That is, except for me.

That's one of the things that will, for me at least, remain unanswered when I pass. Why you did what you did, why you laughed at me and tried to hurt me while you simultaneously brought Kurt under your wing and tried your hardest to love Artie. Was it because Santana didn't like me or you loathed to do anything against Santana? Or because Santana followed Quinn and you followed Santana, and Quinn hated me herself? Or did I do something to you? Did I hurt you in some way that I didn't even realize I had done, and you were trying to get back at me? Or maybe you didn't even realize what you were doing, just following the crowd, not knowing you were hurting someone, a fellow human being?

Either way, those questions haunt me at night like so many others, and a part of me dislikes you for those moments, those times I watched you lend a hand to someone, while at the next moment, watch me as others pushed me, laughing and joining in. Your laugh haunts me, as I listen to its beautiful chiming noise in my nightmares, laughing over my grave. Did you know that you left me with that? That you caused me to wince in whenever you were in the vicinity, simply because your laugh itself was like a whip to my back?

Do you know that when you laughed as Santana pulled my cord out to the microphone, you shattered something inside me that can never be repaired? That brought me to where I am now, writing my adieus, welcoming the end to my story? Others will be mad at me, saying I'm being too mean, cruel and self-centered in my death as I was in my life. Sweet little Brittany, innocent and naïve as she was, didn't know what was going on, didn't know that laughing at the 'jokes' her friends made was hurting someone, leading ever nearer to that cliff that I myself will push myself off at the end of these.

But I don't believe that. You are naïve and innocent yes, but even a child knows when something is not right, when an injustice is being done. You did too. You knew what Santana and Quinn were doing. What Mercedes was doing, I know you did. Maybe you hoped it would go away, go away like I will, never to be spoken of, but I can't let it be. You know and I know and now the others will.

You would call, each and every night, like clockwork, at six o'clock, right before me and my fathers (mostly me alone in the last few years) would sit for dinner and right after your father came home, and say sorry. You never said much else, just told me you were sorry for making me sad and that you loved me. You always said you loved me, in that sweet little voice of yours, and then tell me about your day.

I'd listen. Your voice was infectious, and I would listen until you'd exhausted yourself describing all the flowers you walked by, the sunrise that your mother watched with you, how Lord Tubbington was reading your diary. You never talked about school and I never asked, we knew what had gone down in school, and the only mention needed was that sorry in the beginning. I forgave you every time.

You were my friend Britt-Britt, when we were young and my fathers put me in the same dance class as yours did when were only three. We hit it off and soon I was sleeping over at your house. We had been joined once school started by another, but they'll come later, and then it was the three of us. We were inseparable, always hanging out at school together and afterwards, we would take as long as possible to walk home, just so we could talk more, then at six o'clock, as soon as you greeted your daddy hello and before mine put dinner on the table, you'd call and we'd talk some more.

That all changed once high school began. You joined the cheerleaders and pretended I didn't exist and our other friend, well they will be later, won't they? You only spoke to me if it was to be mean, and you never told your new friends that you knew me. Everything changed, everything was different, except for the phone calls. They kept coming, and I answered each and every one.

The first time you were crying, do you remember that? Santana had drawn all those pornographic images of me in the boy's bathroom and videotaped me as I cried and you had stood there and watched. You laughed when Santana directed you to, but I knew, even through my tears, that it was forced. You hated that, you didn't understand all that Santana did that day, but you knew I was hurt, that I was sad, and that you had helped cause it.

So that day, when you called me, you cried. It was the first time you said sorry, but it wasn't the last. Every time you thought Santana or Quinn had gone too far or I had cried at school, you were crying when you called. You hated it all, you had told me, you hated me sad and you wanted to go back to middle school, when the world made sense to you. You were lost in your childhood fantasies, where good always won and the friends were still friends at the end of the day.

I never told I loved you back, I just never did. I hated what you did to me, even if you didn't understand it. You were always content at those apologizes and I never had the heart to tell you it still hurt. But I've done it now, every world hurt far more than can be imagined, I despised it. But not you, Brittany. Not my sweet friend who I laughed with and watched television. with. I never told you in those phone calls, but I love you Brittany. Even through these past years where you stood beside Santana and laughed as she hurt me, you were my sister.

You are my best friend and I love you. Friends until the day we die, we'd said, never thinking how soon that time could come. But it's time now; you will never see me again, never hear me again, but don't cry. Don't feel sad, cherish my memories. Marry Santana, you love her, and she does you, even if she doesn't show it. Be happy. Always be happy, but never forget me. When you see a girl or boy who is being bullied, help them. Don't stand in the back and call for forgiveness later. It's too late for me, I've broken beyond repair and not even you could put Humpty Dumpty back together.

I love you, you were my first, and at times, my only friend, and although you hurt me a lot, I love you and will always do so. You deserve happiness, and you will find it in Santana. So call her at six o'clock and tell her off the sun and the rainbow you saw that day, smile with her and dance across the streets like we did as children. Remember me in the birds flying across the sky, in the stars soaring high above you in the night, and smile.

Remember me for the good, remember our laughter, our dancing, our sleepovers where we talked about boys and giggled ourselves silly. Remember the tears, the mocking, the pain. Cherish the good, don't forget the bad. Remember most of all, that I love you, I always loved you as my sister. Please understand this Brittany, understand that I can't do it anymore, not the pain, not the hatred. None of it, but not the secrets either. I can't live like this, but I can't face any of you after I've said them. That's why I hope you forgive me for what I am about to do, but they need to understand as well.

I tried to keep it a secret Britt, but I can't do it, like Santana's love of you and women, it's a secret that's brought me down, that's destroyed part of my life. And they, not mine, but your friends deserve to know. You know they do. So here goes.

The reason why Brittany stopped being my friend wasn't because she met Santana, or joined the Cheerios and was convinced I would bring her down, it's because I was there the summer between eighth grade and ninth grade, where she spent the summer with her uncle. When she came home a different person and only told me why. She was raped, again and again, by the man who swore to protect her.

When she came home, she told me that her uncle did strange things, things she didn't understand and she didn't like. When I told her what it was, that he'd molested her, she cried and cried, and begged me not to tell. I promised I wouldn't as long as she promised never to go back. I hated myself for it, for keeping this secret for years and I've told it now. Brittany stopped being my friend because she couldn't deal with the fact that her uncle did that to her, and so by ignoring the only person who knew the truth, she was able to block herself from it.

She was able to go back to that innocent time before the summer and live in it for the next years. She wasn't the same, she was a lot more loosely ethical with her body and she shied away from men except for gratuitous sexual favors. She kept herself locked up and was able to convince herself that she was living, but that's not life. Santana, you need to help her, to keep her save and open her up to the world. Once, that was my job, but I'm gone now, and you need to protect her. You could ignore me of course, but I doubt you will, you could never when it involved Brittany.

I love you Brittany, even if you hate me now for spilling the secrets, and I want to protect you like I couldn't that summer. I hope you can forgive a dead woman, but if you can't, I'll probably never know. Love you, forgive me, farewell, sweet Brittany S. Pierce, my forever friend.

Well, it's longer than the others and I'm not sure if it was my favorite. But I hope you enjoyed it none the less. It was brought to my attention by someone (can't remember who but you know who you are) that maybe I should do the reactions of everyone, so if you agree with that person just tell me. Also, if you have any requests for the next people (Quinn, Puck, Mike, Finn, and Kurt) just tell me and I will try to write it in. Also, I wasn't sure about the rape thing, but I added it because I wanted a reason for Brittany to no longer be friends with Rachel. Tell me what you thought, and until next time, then.