I left Noah and Santana's house before they woke up. I left a note on the kitchen table thanking them for their hospitality and for letting me stay because I was too drunk to function. The sweet smell of dew in the morning air made me feel better, less hung over. I drove home, not expecting anyone to be there, but I was wrong. Quinn was walking toward me.

"Hello Quinn." I waved jogging up the driveway.

"Rachel, there is something you didn't tell us about your life, something you are ashamed of. I wanted to tell you that you can tell me anything."

"Thanks? How do you know I have a secret?" I asked curious as to why she was here so early and why she had this inkling.

"All you did last night was cry whenever we brought up certain songs or people, and then you drank some more, and it didn't help. You just kept crying!" She said this certainly, and she stood up to be at my level.

"I am fine, and that is not how I remember last night. I remember it being boring." I stated.

"Oh, no, it was quite interesting. You drank a whole bottle of something, I don't know what Puck had but, you drank it all, and then you cried. We started to take bets on what words would make you cry. We even played Apples to Apples and you started crying over the green cards. You, my friend, have something to share." Quinn smiled at me, her perfect teeth all in line, her perfect skin and nose, and her blonde perfect hair was all in line. Damn her perfectness.

"I don't recall that."

"You wouldn't, the alcohol would take care of that. But you cried over the song "I'm So Pretty" from West Side Story, after you chose to sing it, and then "On My Own" from Les Miz, you again chose it. So spill your guts, and I will tell you the true gossip behind Santana and Finn."

"She already told me."

"She wouldn't admit to the rest of it. She only told you a little."

"Fine."

I invited Quinn inside the house, both my dads were gone (I assume that Daddy got a ride with Dad, because I had his car). We made ourselves cozy in the living room, and like a good host, I offered her a drink which she politely refused. Then I started talking, maybe skipping some details.

"David was my director, my most recent, for Les Miserables. We had met in a bar, a little pub, when we were talking over my audition and such. That is where he asked me to go on a date. I agreed. We dated for a while. It was amazing, he had friends who would great tickets to every show on Broadway. I loved it! He was a great director, always telling us how to improve and so on. One night he took me to West Side Story, that's where he proposed. It took a turn for the worst and I am now alone. Now spill about Santana."

"Is that all?" Quinn asked skeptically. I nodded yes, but felt that I should tell her more. I decided against it.

"What about Santana?" I continued.

"Finn and Santana were going out from Graduation, but you knew that. They had gotten serious, almost to the point of marriage. She had her chance to leave. She was offered a job as a flight attendant, she could travel all the time getting out of Lima. Plus it was a great job, she had benefits that covered operations that we didn't even knew existed, and it was fantastic in terms of pay! Finn wanted to stay. So they discussed the possibilities of leaving and Finn wouldn't do anything. He wouldn't agree to anything she suggested. She had wanted to move somewhere sunny, take the position and look for a new job somewhere else. He wouldn't budge. They of course continued to have sex, because it's Santana, she's always promiscuous. Finn decided that it was cool not to be protected at all, and she wound up pregnant. He offered to let her stay with him, but she found out that he had lied to her to get her to stay. Santana was pissed; she wanted to brake it off, but he beat her to it. He left her alone and 8 months pregnant, at his doing. She decided to never speak to him again. She voiced to Finn that if Alia ever asks about her father, she'll say that he is Puck. Puck agreed."

"Wow." I was stunned, that was heavier then I had thought. Things were twisted when Finn and Santana told me. I stayed silent for a while.

"Is there more you want to say?" Quinn stared at me.

"Is there more you want to say?" David was spitting in my face annunciating every word. I turn away only to have him slap me back into his focus.

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?"

"I am sorry that you didn't know where I was."

"AND?"

"I am not sorry that I went out and had a good time."

"You Bitch!" He slapped me, once on each cheek. I slid down the wall, landing on my butt. My face was wet, half his spit the other substance was my tears. He went into a frenzy, hitting every place he could. He slapped my jaw, bloodied up my nose and got at my eye pretty hard. I knew it would set him off, but now my heart once full of love toward him shied away from him with hate and disgust.

"I want a divorce. I never want to see you again. Get off of Broadway, no one will hire you ever once I'm done. You are a bitch, a slut, and so much more and all of New York will know. You should go home, be the Lima Loser you once were." He spat on my face and left. I felt a burden lift from me, knowing that I was safe, for a while. I hoped he meant the divorce.

"No." I answered.