Santana watched from the doorway as her mother spoke with a detective down the hall from Quinn's room. They had attempted to speak to her sister first, but she had refused. Eventually, they gave into her and agreed to speak to her mother instead. Even from the distance Santana could see the stress evident on her mother's face and in her eyes from the creases on her forehead. She sat in the wheelchair with her head in her hands telling the detective things Santana only wished she could hear. She wasn't sure what she thought of God anymore since her recent discovery earlier in the day that he was indeed a sick fuck, but if he was there, she prayed her mother took the side of her children and not her husband.

Quinn coughed and it reminded Santana that she was actually in the presence of others. She turned to look at her sister, who had refused to leave more than six inches between them since showering, and offered a small smile. She had so many questions for Quinn but wasn't sure when to ask them. Or how. Or if she even should at all. This entire situation was above Santana's head. She was drowning.

Before she could ask Quinn if she was alright, Deb slowly approached Santana. "Sweetheart, I have a question. Would you mind stepping just outside with me?"

The woman was kind, but Santana couldn't hide her eye roll. She wanted this day to be over. She didn't want to talk to the cops and she really didn't feel talking to the nurse. At Deb's question, Quinn's eyes locked with Santana's in a plea not to go.

"Sorry, but can it wait? Everyone apparently has all these questions and I really don't want to leave Quinn." She shuffled away from the doorway and into the chair next to Quinn's bed.

"Then perhaps I should just ask it to both of you.." Deb trailed off. Santana was getting frustrated.

"Look, either ask the question or get out!"

"Santana.." Quinn warned quietly from the bed.

"What it is like at home?"

The question left Deb's mouth probably louder than intended, Santana figured, and it hung in the air unanswered. Both sisters remained quiet. Quinn sunk further into her bed, and Santana froze in shock. She knew the question would be asked by the police. Mr Schue had even alluded to it earlier in the day, but to hear it so bluntly asked by a stranger with no basis, shook her. Defense kicked in.

"What are you talking about? Home is fucking great. Upper West Side, nice silverware, a place to sleep. I can't complain. What is it like at home for you, Deb?" Santana spat. Was this woman serious right now?

The nurse quietly continued. "Santana, maybe it was heat of the moment, but you said some things to your mother earlier. Accused of her things that would be very concerning if they were true. The police.. they're going to ask me things too since I was there when we found your father. I just want to look out for you girls. I hope you'll be honest about whatever your situation is when you speak to the detectives," she said. Without leaving time for an answer, she left the room and returned to the nurses station.

Santana absentmindedly began flipping her phone over in her hands. She hadn't even been aware that Deb was standing two feet away when she screamed at her mother about her behavior earlier. The facade she had worked nearly her entire life to keep had just about fallen away in mere seconds in front of stranger because she couldn't keep her anger in check. When had she lost that much control?

"Fuck," she said aloud. Quinn stayed quiet and Santana didn't attempt to engage her in conversation. She didn't know what to say and her mind couldn't fit another single thought inside it without exploding. She was trying to stay focused on the present issues- Quinn, the police, her mother- but focusing on those things instantly made her focus on the future- court, hearings, college- and those were things she couldn't bear to think about. As someone who grew up finding the control in her life, losing control over the important things was unfathomable.

Quinn and Rachel were always supposed to be things she could control. Not in the bad way of course, but she could keep them safe. Now, not only had she not kept them safe, but Rachel had been exposed to some ridiculously mature issues and Quinn... Quinn would probably never be the same again.

"I can hear you thinking," her blonde sister said, sitting up slightly.

"Are you okay?" Santana asked for what felt like the millionth time. Or maybe that was just the amount of times she wondered in her head. Regardless, she knew the answer was a hard no.

Quinn answered with a silence and played with her hands before speaking up.

"Do you have my phone?"

This caught Santana off guard. Who was she about to text and tell about this? Surely she wouldn't want anyone to know. Then it hit her.

"Yes, I have it, but no way in hell are texting Puck about what's going on!"

Quinn looked at her with a hurt look on her face and Santana instantly regretted yelling at her. "I'm sorry. I just saw he texted you and I don't think-"

"I just want my music, Santana," Quinn whispered, her eyes welling with tears. "Please."

The feeling of guilt instantly intensified in the older girl. She handed over her sister's phone, who didn't even bother checking the multiple texts she had. She played some Beethoven on low volume and the sound still managed to fill the room. Santana had no idea when Quinn took a liking to classical music. It may have worked to calm her, but it only made Santana antsy. It reminded her only of terrible memories caused by their father. Her heart sunk when she realized just how many memories of classical music she had. Maybe she hadn't done as good a job protecting her sisters as she always thought she had..

They sat in silence as the soft sounds of Beethoven continued to put Quinn at ease and Santana on edge. After a few minutes, their mother was wheeled back into the room by a nurse with the two detectives behind them. Santana took a proper look at them. One was older and rounder with streaks of grey in his hair, the other was younger, maybe in his mid 30's with brown hair and a serious face. They asked to speak to Quinn who reluctantly agreed. Everyone else was asked to leave the room. Santana had expected Quinn to fight for her to stay, but she was silent. Shelby ensured they kept the door to Quinn's room open the entire time.

"I don't like the idea of two men interviewing her," she said. The crazed look she held in her eyes earlier was no longer there. She would, in this moment, appear to outsiders as a good and genuine mother. Normal.

Santana didn't like it either and agreed with her mother. She made sure to hover as close to the door as possible without getting too close that someone would yell at her. She felt now was as good a time as ever to get on the same page as her mother, before she once again clicked into depression mode and was unable to think for herself.

"Before," she began abruptly. "Before we found Quinn and Rachel and I went into your room. You started to say 'it was never supposed to be this way.' What did you mean?" She watched as her mother looked at her, and as if Santana's gaze burned her, deflected her eyes away.

"You always were so blunt and direct weren't you?" The woman was trying to diffuse the tension, but Santana's eyes continued to bore into her mother demanding answers. Sensing this, Shelby met her daughters eyes. "I... your father wasn't always like this," she said. Santana snorted. Shelby continued, "The first time he hit me was when I was pregnant with you, Santana, and I just.. I don't know. I never thought it was one of those situations you hear about. You watch movies and read books and you think 'why would that woman stay with that man? If someone hit me once, I'd leave him!' But it isn't that black and white. I know you think that it is.. but there were good memories too, Santana."

Santana couldn't remember the last time she had a serious conversation with her mother while she lucid. It had been years. The last big conversations she could remember having were when her mother had to explain to her that Quinn had a different father, and how to help take care of a baby when she was pregnant with Rachel. And now, she could add the true history of her father's abuse to the list. It was sad that in some aspects, Santana felt like she was talking to a stranger.

"It should be black and white when he starts hitting your kids, Mom," she said.

Her mother's voice sounded full and deep, like she was trying to keep from crying. "No... he.. it was only me. He couldn't have.."

The rage roller coaster Santana had been on all day was coming to it's highest peak, she could feel it. She knew she couldn't lash out at her mother without causing a scene. She bent down toward her mother in the wheelchair and very lowly whispered, "I don't care if you're in denial or shock. You knew what he was doing in that apartment. You heard it. And now, he rapes your own daughter and you still can't admit what he's done? Are you-"

"Santana, stop!" Shelby quietly cried back. Tears were now falling from her eyes. "I saw exactly what you did today! She's your sister, but she's my baby! I want to rip that bastard limb from limb for what he did to her, but I'll never be able to. Don't you see? I can't control him. Every time I would fight him, he'd threaten me with one of you girls. I could never risk that."

"Don't you see, Mom?! He did it anyway. He's been doing it for years! Jesus Christ, I was seven the first time he hit me. I was in first grade and was scared someone would ask me about the marks on my arms from his belt. I... I asked you, begged you, so many times to leave. Why didn't you ever listen?"

"I was trying the other day," she whispered.

"What?" Santana asked, partially because she couldn't hear her mother, and partially because she was in shock if what she thought she heard was true.

"He wasn't home and so.. I.. packed just a few things of mine. Some shirts from each of your dressers. And your school photos from over the years. Everything else I just figured we could pick up." Santana listened to her mother. She was hanging on every word. "The only good thing life ever gave me, was you girls. So naturally, with my awful luck, your father came home. It took him seconds to realize what I was doing since a bag was half packed. I tried to trick him and say I was cleaning.. it was stupid and made no sense, but I was scared. So he.. did what he does best and tried to hurt me. Next thing I can tell you I'm waking up here. Fast forward, what? A day? And he's got my daughter.. he.." the woman took a deep breath to steady herself. "Did he ever do this to you?"

Santana shook her head immediately. "No."

"And Rachel?"

She shook her head again. "No." She refrained from telling her mother the small piece of information Rachel had revealed to her earlier about their father touching her for a fleeting second 'down there'.

Shelby nodded gratefully. "Oh God. What did she see?"

"She saw everything. She's confused and scared. I'm trying my best, but it's getting really hard."

"I am an awful mother," Shelby said.

Santana didn't answer or tell her she was wrong. Frankly, she was absolutely correct, but there was nothing else Santana could say. Her mother deserved to sit in that reality for awhile. If she had stepped up years ago, her daughters wouldn't be subjected to abuse, that now included forced sex. That sick fucker up in the sky was really testing her.

It wasn't long before the two detectives emerged from Quinn's room looking slightly discouraged. Quinn had chosen not to give them much information aside from a nod yes or no to their questions. While they were happy to have gotten some answers from her which would suffice, they informed Shelby that Quinn should definitely see a therapist to get her through the trauma, and that opening up would only help her in the future. Shelby nodded grateful for the advice, and before Santana knew it, she was back in the waiting area she had been a few hours ago with her sisters. Only this time she was sitting across from two detectives.

"I'm sorry for what happened today," the older, rounder officer said. "I know that had to have been incredibly difficult."

Santana snorted and shook her head in disbelief. The older officer, whose name tag read O'Malley shared a glance with Shields, the younger officer. O'Malley continued. "You're not gonna give us the same silent treatment your sister did, are you?" He was trying to make her smile and show that they were on her side, but Santana didn't take the bait.

"My sister wasn't giving you the silent treatment. My father raped her and she's scared out of her damn mind," she said with narrowed eyes. "Maybe instead of accusing us of being difficult, you could take a second to understand what we've been through the last few hours."

O'Malley shifted in his seat and leaned forward toward Santana with a genuine look on his face. "We didn't mean to accuse anybody of being difficult. Unfortunately, we deal with cases like this on a regular basis. Your sister was helpful and did a great job. We just have a few questions for you that will help us move forward."

"Santana, what's your family dynamic? Is your Dad in charge? Mom? How does everyone get along?"

Santana gave a sarcastic laugh under her breath. When the officers looked at her expectantly, she took a steadying breath. This was the moment she'd been trying to avoid forever. She knew she had to be careful, otherwise she and her sisters would for sure be separated, she knew it. Not to mention her family's dirty laundry would be aired out to the entire school and Upper West Side of New York City.

"I wouldn't say my Mom was ever in charge."

"So, it was your Dad who set the rules then?"

"Yep," she said, popping the 'p'.

Shields continued. "How would you describe your relationship with your father?"

This made Santana pause and think. So many words came rushing into her head. Hateful. Toxic. Sad. Anxious. Cruel.

When they received no response, O'Malley and Shields both made notes in their little books. Santana wanted to burn them.

"We don't get along," she said.

"Any reason? Did he ever show signs of anger or abuse before today?"

She remained quiet and slowly nodded her head yes.

"Was he ever violent toward Quinn before today?"

Another nod.

"You have another sister, was he ever violent towards her?"

She shook her head no.

"What about to you?"

Her chest felt heavy and the space suddenly felt hot. She was back in Quinn's exam all over again. She closed her eyes to steady herself, but the heat kept rising in her face.

"SHELBY!"

The door to the apartment hadn't even opened, yet fourteen-year-old Santana could hear her father from the hall. She couldn't remember anything going wrong today. Everyone had come home from school and Quinn and Rachel playing in the bedroom. Her mother had complained of a headache earlier and went to lie down. She asked Santana to make dinner, and Santana happily agreed. She liked to cook and she knew her father would be happy to come home to a warm meal waiting for him. Everyone was home on time and she couldn't think of a reason her father would be angry. She gripped the oven mit in her hand.

Leroy barged through the apartment door, tossing his briefcase aside and made a beeline for the kitchen. "Shelby- what the fuck are you making? I can smell it from the elevator! This is a classy neighborhood, they don't need my family stinking up the place," he spat.

He laid eyes on Santana and confusion settled onto his face.

"Where is your mother?"

"She didn't feel well. She's laying down."

"And who said you could use the oven?"

Santana met his gaze, unafraid and confident. She didn't notice the thing layer of smoke wafting out of the oven.

"Mom did. She asked if I could make dinner since she felt sick. I know how to make meatloaf and this way we don't have to get takeout," she said.

Without a word, Leroy grabbed Santana's unprotected hand, opened the oven, placed it on the 425 degree rack, and held it there. Santana screamed in pain. It was unlike anything she had ever felt before. She'd accidentally burned her hand on a curling iron, but nothing compared to this. She felt the heat flare up throughout her whole body. Tears left her eyes like waterfalls. Once Leroy had enough, he pulled her to an upright position and smacked her across the face.

"Shut up! This is what you get for cooking unsupervised. You could've set the house on fire and no one would've been here to save you. Is that what you want, Santana? To burn the apartment down?"

Tears were streaming down her face. Unbeknownst to her, the noise had brought 10-year-old Quinn and 4-year-old Rachel out of their room and to the kitchen. Leroy noticed them first and made an example out of Santana. He gripped her brown her tight and pulled her head down.

"Now, see girls?" he said to the younger ones. "If Mommy can't cook and Daddy isn't around to watch, you could set the building on fire. That deserves punishment. Do you promise to never use the kitchen without Daddy around?" He tried to sound kind and caring, but he still held Santana's hair in a death grip. She could see Quinn push Rachel behind her and nod her head in agreement with her father. "Good. Now go back to your room and let me punish your sister."

Rachel's little body ran from the kitchen back to the bedroom. Quinn followed her slowly, her eyes staying on Santana's until she was forced to break contact. Santana let out a breath, happy her sisters were gone. Her father squeezed her upper arm tightly. "Clean this place up and go get your mother. We're going out to eat."

"Santana?"

Shields' sharp voice broke her out of the memory. "Was he ever violent toward you?" he repeated.

She cleared her throat and took a breath. "Yeah, he was. Sometimes."

"Sometimes?" O'Malley questioned.

As the heat in her face cooled down, defensive Santana returned. "Yes, sometimes. It's nothing compared to what he did to Quinn today. Are we done here?"

"Almost," O'Malley said. "Santana, your mother told us your father could be violent towards her, but she wasn't aware of any violence toward your or her sisters. How did he act in front of your mother?"

She thought she had reached the peak of her rage roller coaster earlier when she confronted her mother, but surely this had to be it. Their mother lied to the police.

"He was terrible to her too. But now, I'm pretty positive she deserved whatever shitty deck of cards she got dealt."

Without room for argument, she stood up and made her way back to Quinn's room, where an unfamiliar woman now stood at the foot of her bed, their mother beside her. Santana couldn't bring herself to look at her mother. The rage and hatred she held inside of her was too much. If this unknown woman wasn't here, she was sure she'd lose it. She just wanted to go home. It was getting late and she wasn't sure head legs, head, or heart could take any more.

She caught the tail end of what the woman was saying. Apparently, this was the shrink Quinn would be seeing for the foreseeable future. Her sister didn't seem to care, in fact, she looked entirely check out. She noticed her mother holding Quinn's cell phone.

"Santana," Shelby began, "Quinn's discharge paperwork is being filed. She's okay to go. I have to stay here, but we need to find a place for you both to stay."

Santana ignored what she was saying. "Why do you have Quinn's phone?"

Shelby looked down at the phone in her hands and back at Santana. "Ms. Taylor was trying to speak to your sister and she wouldn't turn off her music. Santana, if she's going to get on the road to recovery, she can't tune out the people here to help her."

"That music does help her, Mom! Jesus Christ, you are the absolute worst. You were right. You are an awful mother. Quinn and I will stay at Brittany's. You remember her right? Her mom works at the elementary school? Dad's a lawyer? Her parents are fucking normal and care more about us than you're ever going to be capable of! Fuck you. You will always defend him won't you? I thought you could change, but you can't. You're always going to be sad and pathetic," she said passionately. She tightened her pony and made her way over to Quinn.

"Come on, Q. Let's get you out of here."

"I don't want to go to Brittany's," she whispered just loud enough for Santana to hear. Her eyes stared into space.

Santana didn't want to argue, but she didn't want to lose Quinn altogether either.

"It's okay, we'll talk in the car, okay? Let's go."

She placed her arm gingerly around Quinn's waist to help steady her. Santana snatched her sister's phone from her mother's hands and without another word, the sister's made their way to the exit. She half registered the detectives talking to Deb and the small group of nurses who uncovered the disgusting scene just hours before. She pushed the thought out of her mind. If she could just get to Brittany's everything would be okay.

She flagged down a cab and the two girls got in. She gave the cab driver instructions to drop them on the corner of Brittany's apartment. Quinn instantly scooted over to Santana's side and nuzzled into her. Santana kissed the top of her sister's head, an action she gave to Rachel quite often, but never to Quinn. In this moment though, it felt natural. Quinn was so young and had just endured the worst type of abuse. She deserved love and comfort and support.

"I don't want to go to Brittany's" Quinn whispered again. Her eyes still seemed to be in a faraway place.

"Q..." Santana began. She wanted Quinn's attention. "Quinn look at me," she said. When her blonde sister did nothing but continue to stare, not even blinking, Santana sighed. She gently stroked her sister's hair. "I know you don't want to Quinn, but it's the only option we have. We can't.. we can't go home. I don't know what you told the cops, but chances are things will be weird for awhile. I want.. We can trust the Pierces. We always wanted to tell someone right? We can tell them." She felt Quinn's body begin to shake. "Sshh, it's okay. It's going to be okay." She continued to stroke Quinn's hair and comfort her shaking body until they arrived at Brittany's corner.

She paid the cab and supported Quinn's barely functioning legs to lobby. She continued on the familiar route to her girlfriend's door and knocked. Mrs. Pierce answered the door a few moments later and it wasn't until that moment that Santana realized she never called or texted Brittany with a heads up that she was coming.

"Mrs. Pierce.. hi. Um.. "

She saw the kind older woman take in the sight in front of her. She wasn't sure what Brittany had said to her mother earlier, but one look at Quinn basically said it all.

"Oh, girls," she said sadly. "Come inside."

Still supporting a shaking Quinn, Santana made her way inside, standing awkwardly in the middle of the living room. She spotted Rachel's coat and hat hanging on the coat hook near the front door. Mr. Pierce came over with an extremely concerned look on his face. He looked at Quinn, his wife, then Santana.

"Brittany and Rachel are in her room talking over some homework. Quinn, honey, would you like some water?" Mr. Pierce placed a supportive hand on the girl's waist, opposite Santana's, and all hell broke loose.

Quinn began screaming like a banshee and thrashing in Santana's arms. Mr. Pierce put his hands up in surrender and backed away to show her he meant no harm. Quinn was crying and thrashing so hard, that Santana couldn't hold her up anymore. The girl fell to her knees, and then onto her side in the fetal position at Santana's feet. Santana knelt down onto the floor next to Quinn and cradled her head in her lap. "Sshh, Quinn, it's okay! It's okay!" she said loudly. "It's just Mr. Pierce. It's okay!"

The blonde continued to sob inconsolably, oblivious to the world around her. Santana rushed to get the cell phone in Quinn's pocket and played the first classical piece she could find. Quinn showed no signs of calming down, despite Santana and Mrs. Pierce's comforting words.

Santana saw Brittany emerge from her bedroom, holding Rachel on her hip as if she was three. While her sister was certainly tiny enough to hold, she knew Brittany was only holding her because the girl was scared. The tiny brunette had tears in her eyes, but couldn't look away from her big sister on the floor. Santana looked into Brittany's eyes and tried to convey how sorry she was for bringing their hardships to her front door. She'd never forgive herself. She turned back to Quinn who was slowly calming down. Mrs. Pierce could feel the heat from her skin and gave Santana a cool washcloth to place on her sister's head, afraid to do it herself and upset her further.

She placed the cool cloth on Quinn's head and resumed stroking her hair as she had done earlier. Santana did her best to tune out the world around her and focus on her broken sister.

"Ssh, Quinnie it's okay," said seven-year-old Santana. Their father had just struck four-year-old Quinn with a ruler multiple times for not being able to tell time. He then proceeded to duck Santana's head underwater for the same thing. When she returned to the room she shared with her sister, she saw Quinn in the closet pressing the paw of her stuffed animal to fill the air with music. Santana had changed into pajamas and crawled into the closet with Quinn.

Quinn continued to press the paw of the puppy. The little girl's hazel eyes were wet with unshed tears. "The music sounds happy," she said.

Santana smiled, brushing her own wet hair out of her face. "Yeah, it does sound happy," she agreed. "Daddy hit you hard, are you okay?"

"I'm okay," said Quinn. "You saved me, and Mr. Puppy is making me happy again"

Santana giggled despite the situation and the mark on Quinn's face. "Me and Mr. Puppy will always save Quinnie! You're the princess in the tower, and every time you get stuck, me and Mr. Puppy will come to the rescue!"

Quinn turned in the closet and looked at her sister with bright eyes and a smile. "Yeah! Daddy's the big bad wolf and you, me, and Mr. Puppy are the piggies! And the piggies always win!"

She was snapped back to the present by a particularly harsh shudder. Quinn's teeth were chattering. "Sshh, it's okay Quinn. It's all going to be okay. Remember the three little pigs?" She whispered into her sister's ear. "The pigs always won right? We're still the pigs, and Dad is still the wolf. And right now, the Pierce's built the big brick house that the wolf can't get to. Sshh. You're okay," she said whispered.

She rocked Quinn until she calmed and stopped shaking about 15 minutes later, to the point where Santana thought she had fallen asleep. She was still awake, and Santana thought calm enough to bring her to the Pierce's guest bedroom where Rachel was going to sleep that night. Santana helped her off the floor, and led her to the room, Mrs. Pierce in tow. She got her sister settled and the blonde instantly fell asleep. She exited the room, and Mrs. Pierce pulled the girl into a hug.

"It's going to be okay, Santana," said the older woman. "You should rest, but we're going to have a talk tomorrow, okay?"

Santana nodded and swallowed the lump in her throat as to not cry. "Okay. Thank you. And please.. tell Mr. Pierce I'm sorry for.. what happened," she said apologetically.

Mrs. Pierce smiled sympathetically. "Honey, please don't be sorry. It's perfectly alright. You've been through a lot. He understands," she said kindly. The woman made her way back to the living room to her husband, and Santana opened the door to Brittany's room.

Brittany was sitting on her bed next to Rachel who was lying down awake. When she saw Santana enter the room, the jumped up and climbed up Santana's body so her sister was holding her in a hug, much like Brittany had a few minutes earlier. "What's going on?!" she cried.

Santana gently put her sister down and sat next to her girlfriend on the bed. "I have to tell Brittany's family everything tomorrow. I want you to be there so you can hear everything the way you deserve to, okay?"

Rachel nodded. "Is Quinn okay?"

Santana met Brittany's sad blue eyes. It was evident that after seeing Quinn, Brittany had figured out to an extent what had happened. "Not right now. She won't be for a little bit I don't think. Are you okay, Rachel?" Santana brushed the girl's bangs out of her face.

"Do you think I can sleep with Quinn? That bed is big enough..." she trailed off, hopeful.

Santana and Brittany both smiled at the younger girl. "Yeah, you can try. Just be careful okay? She's sleeping, but she's not herself."

Rachel hugged both girls and exited Brittany's room in favor of the guest room. Brittany got up, closed her door and turned back to Santana, who finally let the tears that had wanted to fall all day, fall.

"I-I'm so sor-"

"Ssshhh," Brittany said. She kissed Santana on the mouth and pulled back so they were forehead to forehead. "I love you. I love them. Whatever happened, it's going to be okay, alright?"

Santana nodded, and Brittany continued. "Are you okay?"

She brunette shook her head and cried openly. Brittany wrapped her arms around her, and for the first time all day, Santana felt comforted. No one was hounding her for questions, or accusing of her things. Brittany was safe. Brittany was home. And that thought alone, made her cry harder.

There's the latest chapter! I hope you all enjoyed! Please, please review and let me know what you think - it means the world!

bproofmgmt- Thank you so much! Hope you enjoyed this chapter!

Guest- Thank you very much!

MaudeLebowski- So glad to hear you're emotionally invested. It's heavy content, but the story is an important one I want to tell. I'm so happy you love these girls as much as I do.

KStoryteller- I'm so grateful the girls have each other and Brittany as well. The road ahead is quite long. Shelby is in a league of her own and we'll head down that path shortly.

clj7- Thank you so much!

beaner008- Here's some more for you! THanks for reading!

Nelly- Thank you, as always for your detailed review! I love Quinn too- canon Quinn and this one. We'll hear more of what's going on in Quinn's head soon. These sisters and their relationship are so, so special.