Hey guys. Sorry, I was recuperating from the news of what happened during the season finale. I wouldn't know first hand, I refused to watch it. Because Ryan Murphy is a BUTT TRUMPET. SOUR GRAPE RYAN MURPHY. Damn that G.L.E.E making twisted abominations of everything! I had a hunch Finchel was on the rise, and I decided, "Hey, I'll just never watch again and leave it on a St. Berry note! Yay, denial!"

So after mourning, I had a bunch of exams and projects to end the year. And then I had volunteer work. And this is my first moment of free time since. And I thought you deserved an update, 'cause you're all AWESOME. LOVE AND HUGS YOUR WAY! /3

I don't own crud. Stupid butt trumpet mentioned above does.

Rachel awoke with a scream, her hand flying to her injured wrist as she waited for her pulse to slow down. She wiped the thin layer of sweat from her forehead and collapsed back onto her pillows, taking long, calm breaths. Karofsky already plagued her mind during the day, every time she so mach as glanced at her injuries. Now he had to invade her dreams? It seemed to be the worst thing he had done to her. After a few minutes her shaking subsided and she got out of bed, walking down the stairs to her kitchen. She grabbed a cup from the cabinet and filled it to the brim with water; she was dying of thirst. She lifted it to her lips to drink, but the shiny gold star flashed in the dim light over the stove and the glass dropped from her hands, shattering the instant it hit the floor, spilling water and glass shards everywhere.

"Crap," she muttered, glad she had worn her slippers. She stepped carefully to the broom and swept up all the glass. Seconds later, her dad ran down with a baseball grasped in his hand, raised threateningly. It dropped to his side when he saw her.

"Rachel, sweetie, you scared me half to death! What were you thinking?" he asked, taking the broom and sweeping up the remaining glass.

"I had a nightmare," she said sadly, sitting down on one of the stools set up around the island. She stared down at her hands, twisting her fingers in a moment of vulnerability. "Karofsky was attacking me again. It was terrible. I had to get some water."

Her father looked tragically awkward. "Are you okay, sweetie?"

"I'm fine," she sighed. She shouldn't have even brought it up, especially with her dad. It was moments like that that she wished she had a real mother figure. But Shelby had replaced her. She was Rachel Berry. She wasn't supposed to be replaceable, not as a daughter. "You can go back up." After sitting in silence for a few minutes she finally flipped off the lights and went up to her room once more. She didn't fall back asleep.

When she walked into school the next day, a large, sugary coffee clutched in her hand, she was surprised when Blaine immediately fell into step beside her.

"Good morning," she greeted as pleasantly as possible. It didn't seem to be enough, as Blaine immediately picked up on her less-than-chipper disposition.

"Is it?" he asked, and Rachel had to fight back a frown. She didn't want to burden Blaine with her troubles; she had already done that enough yesterday. She still couldn't stop herself as her thoughts spilled forth before she could even register that she was venting.

"I had a nightmare last night. It was terrible. And I got up to get myself some water, because my fathers somehow trained me to believe that sadness equates to thirst, and it just really made me realize how much I wanted a mother figure in my life. Just giving me a glass of water and awkwardly patting me on the back won't help me feel better, you know? It's not that I don't love my daddies, I do! I love them to bits! But sometimes I just wish that they would be more understanding, or even that I had someone besides them who did understand." She was on the verge of tears by the end of her rant. She fought them back desperately, blinking hard in hopes of keeping them at bay. Blaine sighed and gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

"I'm very sorry that you don't have a mother in your life. But that, to me, just shows how strong you are. You went your whole life with nobody to go to and you still ended up such a confident young woman. That takes a lot of strength, Rachel," he said earnestly. Rachel beamed up at him, glad to have made this new friend. She would need him, if she was going to avoid Jesse for a while.

Jesse. That was a whole different can of worms she really didn't want to open. It seemed with him, Karofsky, and her 'mother', all her problems were going to push down onto her until she exploded.

She took a long sip of her coffee, grimacing as it slid down her throat. She hated that the coffee shop hadn't had non-dairy creamer, and she had been forced to drink it black. Her mind flashed to Jesse again and she groaned.

"Either that coffee is disgusting, or there's something else on your mind," Blaine said, always observant.

"A little bit of both," she laughed, but it was a hollow sound. The bell rang and Rachel let out one last groan before bidding Blaine goodbye and heading to Psychology, moving as slowly as she could. She made it just in time, as the second her butt hit the seat, the bell rang. She could see that Jesse was about to talk to her, presumably to ask what had happened with her yesterday, but he didn't get the chance. The teacher started the lesson, much to her relief.

The second class ended she fled from the classroom like a bat out of Hell. She knew Jesse was in her next class, along with Shelby, and the mere thought churned her stomach. She hid in the girl's bathroom as long as she could, but the warning bell rang and she finally went to class, sitting in the middle of the class so that she was equidistant from Jesse and Shelby. The whole hour was spent being subjected to torturous, sub-par singers butcher beautiful songs. When the bell finally rang Rachel felt her whole body relax; she wouldn't have to deal with them for the rest of the day. It seemed, however, that Shelby had different plans.

"Rachel?" she called softly. "Can I please speak with you?"

Rachel hesitated, as did Jesse. She nodded for him to go ahead, thankful when he left without argument. "Yes?"

"I'm sorry, about yesterday. I was just surprised to see you, and I may have been a little insensitive," Shelby said, sincerity clear in her voice. Rachel bit her lip hard.

"I don't care about yesterday."

"I'm sorry about everything," Shelby whispered, her eyes falling to the desk. Rachel had never seen the woman so vulnerable; honestly, it was pissing her off. How dare she act that way? She left. Rachel, if anyone, was the one who was supposed to be mad.

"Don't," she said harshly. "Don't act like that."

Shelby looked fairly shocked. "Rachel, I am sorry. I feel terrible. You needed me, and I just left you. I'm sorry about Beth, I'm sorry I hurt you. I'm so, so sorry."

Rachel swallowed hard. This was unfair. Shelby wasn't allowed to make her feel guilty. "Well, what's done is done."

"Can you get past this someday?" she asked desperately.

"Maybe," she lied. She was sure she would never fully get past it, but maybe she could get over it enough to no longer hate her. Shelby's face relaxed and she smiled.

"Thank you," she whispered. "That's more than I deserve."

Rachel left without a word, but throughout her next two classes, she couldn't get past the fact that her mother had apologized. She couldn't fully focus on anything, even though both lessons seemed fairly interesting. She was relieved when lunch came, and once again Blaine met her in the halls. They sat at a small empty table in the corner, and Rachel realized she was tearing him away from his friends.

"You can go sit at your regular table," she said guiltily.

"This is my regular table," he replied. His voice was so dejected it broke Rachel's heart. "Not everyone is as accepting as you are."

Rachel frowned and placed her hand over his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. He smiled thankfully at her.

"Rachel, what are you doing over here?"

Rachel looked up and was shocked to see Jesse, arms crossed over his chest, scowling.

"I'm sitting with Blaine, obviously," she said, trying to keep her voice casual. Jesse sat down at the empty chair across from her and raised an eyebrow at her.

"I'm not stupid, Rachel," he said coolly. "I know something's up. Spill."

Anyone like the AVPS/Starship references in the above author's note? It was fun, putting that in there. I so love the Glee jokes in Starship. WATCH IT IF YOU HAVEN'T. STARKID IS BEAUTIFUL. Darren Criss wrote the music, too! For those who don't know, that's where he got his start. He was Harry in A Very Potter Musical. I loved him even before I liked Glee :D

Also, sorry for the lack of Jesse (until the end there). She's avoiding that boy like the plague. Also, Shelby! Eh, eh? I know you've been asking about her. Hope you liked it!

REVIEW! Ten, mmkay?

Cheers,

Harlot