A/N: So I know I've been updating like crazy (like multiple times within 24 hours) and it can be a little hard to keep up with. I'm sorry to be so manic and overloading you guys, but I'm just eager to get to a certain part. The climax of the story is coming (in chapter 62, to be precise) and it's HUGE and I'm just so excited to write it and get it to you guys, so that's the reason for a million updates in such little time. I hope I'm not overwhelming you :)

November 30

Before I left the treatment center in Pennsylvania, the last thing Jessica said to me was that therapy was only going to work for me if I made it work for me.

I've been going back and forth since I left Pennsylvania, trying to figure out exactly what she meant when she said that and I think I finally figured it out after leaving my session with Bailey yesterday.

I think Jessica meant that therapy is only going to help me get better if I actively participate in it and take the advice that I'm given seriously. And with that little tidbit of knowledge, last night, I took it upon myself to try the thing that Bailey suggested yesterday.

I felt really weird about it and had so much secondhand embarrassment and shame for doing it that I just couldn't get out of my head. I was in the shower and while I was washing myself up, I tried to touch my body like she said I should. I used my washcloth to rub soap all over myself as usual, but it did it more slowly than I usually do. I didn't feel like it was working and it was making me take too long in the shower, so I just stopped and rinsed myself off and got out.

I tried it again at bedtime because I thought that having the lights out and being alone in my room while everyone else was supposed to be sleeping too would help. I started at my arms just like she said I should and I worked my way to my shoulders. But when it was time for me to touch my boobs, I got a little weirded out and had to stop. I know I failed at actually doing it and trying to train my body to not freak out when Rachel touches me, but I actually tried and I think that should count for something.

I

Just as I really get into the groove of writing and my thoughts are seamlessly flowing from pencil to notebook paper, someone knocks on my door and I usually don't mind being interrupted when I'm writing in my journal, but it really annoys me today for some reason.

Since I'm writing on my bed instead of my desk, I hurry up and slide my notebook under my pillow to hide it and use my phone as a decoy to act like I was lying on my stomach and scrolling through it this entire time.

"Come in!" I even kick my legs up and cross them at the ankles to seem more natural. I mean, this is the epitome of every teenage girl, isn't it? Lying on their bed with their feet up in the air? I look natural, don't I? I don't look like I was just journaling, do I?

My doorknob turns and the door swings open, and I'm a little less annoyed to see that it's Mom and not Mercedes or Mykel interrupting me. She's probably just coming up to tell me that dinner's ready. We've been eating leftovers since yesterday and I don't really mind because all the food was delicious. Mom's been heating the food up on the stove instead of the microwave and I'm learning a few new things about food from her. For example, I didn't know that adding milk to macaroni and cheese when it's dried out will make it as creamy as it is when it first comes out of the oven. It's really the little things that Mom teaches me that make me appreciate her so much more.

"Whatcha doing, sweet pea?" She stays by the door instead of coming inside, which is how I know she's not here for something important.

"Nothing," I shake my head. "I was thinking about taking a nap or something."

"You tired?" She actually does come into my room as she asks me if I'm tired, which worries me a little bit because she'd only come in if something was wrong. She sits down on my bed and cradles my face in her hand. "You been sleepin' okay? You need me to get you something from the store to help you rest?"

"No, I'm okay. I'm just tired today for some reason." Since she's sitting here beside me on my bed, I take the opportunity to lay my head down on her knee.

If I talked to Bailey about me laying on her leg, she'd say something about how I was never allowed to lay on my own mom growing up so I'm compensating for the lack of emotional attachment now. I know I'm seventeen, but sometimes I just want to lay on my mom's leg and let her baby me. It's no big deal. There is no deeper meaning. It just feels really good when she rubs her thumb across my cheek and then strokes the tips of her fingers from my forehead down to my nose like she's doing right now.

"You know I still do this when 'Cedes is having trouble going to bed?" Her fingertips are so light and delicate with every stroke she makes from the top of my forehead to the tip of my nose. I'm about to fall asleep right now. "I used to do this to her and 'Kel when they was little. Put them right to sleep. 'Cedes still asks me to do it sometimes."

"I can see why…" I say, but my voice is kind of slurred and dazed. My eyes are getting heavier and heavier and I wasn't even really sleepy until she started doing this, I was just trying to distract from the fact that I was journaling by saying I wanted to take a nap. Now I really do want to take a nap… "Don't… stop…"

"How 'bout I do it later while we watching the movie?" She stops stroking my face, but starts stroking my shoulder next. "You might not wanna go to sleep just yet. I came up here to tell you that you got a visitor."

"I have a visitor?" I slowly pick my head up off her leg and sit up, yawning. "Who is it? Is it Rachel?"

"It's your sister, baby." She smooths my hair back and away from my face. "I can send her away if you want me to. I'll tell her you're sleepin'. But she say she really wanna talk to you and I think maybe you should hear her out."

"Frannie's here?"

"Mhm, right downstairs. I'll send her up if you want me to, but I'll send her away if that's what you want too."

"What does she want? Did she say what she wants?"

"Just that she wants to talk to you."

We ended things on a bad note and I thought that would be the end of everything. She walked out of here after insulting me and my relationship with Rachel and I felt like she was a part of my past that I didn't need anymore. I was sad when she left, but I also felt a sense of closure. I felt like me closing the door on my relationship with my sister was fitting, because nobody else in my family wanted to be bothered with me anymore and cutting ties completely would make it hurt a lot less. In a way, I was relieved when my sister turned out to be nothing more than my mom and dad's protege because at least then, there was nothing keeping me tethered to the Fabrays.

She's back now and I don't know if I want to speak to her. I don't know if I want to hear her insult me and my sexuality and my preferences and my lifestyle and the family I was so lucky to stumble into. I don't know if I have it in me to defend myself to her anymore.

But on the very likely chance that this may be my last time ever talking to my sister face-to-face… I think maybe I want this opportunity.

"I'll come down, don't send her up." I climb off of my bed and slide my feet into the blue fuzzy slippers that Dad bought me to replace the ones that Bobby chewed up last week.

"You sure you wanna do this?" Mom stands up and follows me behind me like she has my back, literally.

"Yeah, I'm sure. It's just Frannie, I can… I can handle her."

I can handle Frannie. She's the same girl who used to stand in front of me when Dad would yell about getting chalk all over the mailbox. The same one who took all the blame whenever I burned a hole in the microwave and almost set the house on fire by putting a spoon inside. She's the one who secretly brought me the third cookie after Dad commented how I shouldn't eat anything else, and the one who was going to take a red-eye home from Massachusetts when I texted her that I thought I was losing the baby when it was really just Braxton Hicks. She's my sister. And maybe she doesn't love me anymore because I'm gay, but she's stilly my sister and she was still my first best friend and I can still handle her.

I can handle Frannie.

"It's actually a really nice house." Frannie says as she looks around the kitchen, but I know her well enough to know the look on her face when she's being judgmental. And she's being judgmental right now. "It's clean and it's… homey."

"Yeah, I really do love it here." The tone of my voice is sharp and very frank, because I want her to cut to the chase. I want to know why she's here and why she came back after she hurled insult after insult at me. And I want to know why she's looking around and judging my house just because we don't have crown molding in the kitchen and an island made of granite countertops.

Maybe I could make this less awkward if I would sit down at the table with her instead of leaning against the corner of the counter, but I don't really want to be close to her. I don't want her to be able to see my tears if she says something that makes me start to cry.

I get it. When you come from the Fabray house and step into the Jones house, it does seem like an immense downgrade. There aren't anymore high ceilings with crystal chandeliers and there aren't any updated kitchen appliances. The couches are worn down and sinking because they've been sat on, and there isn't plastic covering the furniture. The carpets aren't Persian and plush and the 70-inch TV is on a grand entertainment stand instead of being mounted to the wall above the fireplace. The walls aren't ivory white, each room is a different color. There are tick marks on the archways from babies growing to toddlers to kids, and tattered up chew toys are scattered everywhere from the dogs.

But what you don't see is the way these walls are filled with love.

There are pictures of actual people lining the walls, not pictures of landscapes, flowers and baskets of fruit. It's okay to sit on the couches in the living room because there isn't a specific living room used for guests and one used for actually living. It's okay to spill things and have accidents on this carpet. The stove is old and weathered because in this house, there is a mom who uses it every single day to make meals that don't come from boxes. The paint isn't fresh here because it doesn't have to be. The paint isn't hiding the way the dad chipped the wall by throwing a plate at his wife, and there's no secret liquor cabinet that the mom doesn't want the kids to know about. The kitchen floor has scuff marks on it because the chairs at the table are pushed out every single night when the family has dinner together. So you see, when you come from the Fabray house, it sure seems like the Jones house is a huge downgrade. But then you learn to look at all the things that matter and you realize that this place is a home and probably the safest place in the world. It's my own little corner of the universe and the only place I ever think of as "home."

Frannie looks at the fridge and her eyebrows raise when she notices my report card hanging proudly right next to Mercedes'. She looks around and stares at the many pots of warmed-up Thanksgiving food on the stove and countertops. Then she picks up her glass of water and takes a sip.

"Why'd you come back?" I ask, but I'm not sure I really want to know the answer. She takes another sip of her water and doesn't say anything, which really makes me mad. "I told you that you can't just pop up like this! I told you, this is my house, Frannie. This is where I live, but I have rules. I have rules and expectations and I can't just have you popping up anytime you please like you're some kind of herpe! What, did you think you didn't insult me enough? Did you come back just to tell me how much more you disapprove?"

She still says nothing and I know that I have to calm down and calm down quick. Mom and Dad went upstairs so we could talk in private, but Mom said the second she hears yelling or crying or voices being raised, she's coming down here to rescue me because she's "sick of them Fabrays thinking they can come up in here yelling at me." I promised her that me and Frannie weren't going to yell. I promised her that my sister is generally nonviolent and she is. Frannie used to cry if she accidentally stepped on a bug.

"Why did you come back? Answer me, Fran. Why?"

"Because, Lucy, I wouldn't have been able to forgive myself if I got on the road tomorrow and left things all screwed up with you. That's why." Her words come out of her mouth like fire she's trying to burn me with. She's not yelling, but she's damn close to it. "Like it or not, I love you and I care about you and I care about having a relationship with you. God, I forgot how freaking stubborn you are. I forgot how annoying it is."

"Why do you care now? Now that I'm not even living with mom and dad?"

"I always cared, Quinn. Stop trying to be the victim here. Not everything is about you and I have a life outside of you. If you want to be mad at me for getting the hell out of Lima and making something better of myself, then fine. But don't sit here and chastise me because I don't come home and I never call. Don't make me out to be the villain when the phone works both ways and you never tell me when you're struggling." She pushes her glass of water away from her and rolls her eyes. "Get out of my first class for the day and head to the cafeteria with my friends only to open my phone and see my mother called to tell me my sister is being discharged from the mental hospital this week. How do you think that made me feel? I didn't even know you were struggling, didn't even know you were raped, didn't even know you tried to kill yourself! You tried to KILL yourself, Lucy!"

"You know how fucked up things are in that house! You know how mom and dad can be! And you LEFT me! You left me there, Frannie!"

"What did you want me to do, stay in Lima until you graduated?! Did you want me to put my life on hold so you could finally get out from underneath Russel and Judy Fabray?! What did you expect from me?! What did you want?!"

"Not for you to leave the state!" I say that and the tears come tumbling down. I haven't talked about how I felt about Frannie leaving me, ever. Not with any therapist, not even with myself. It was something I tried so hard to just bury and act like it didn't bother me because I understood why she wanted to get out of here and out of that house, but it hurt. She was my best friend and my saving grace on so many occasions and she just left… "You went to college and that was it. You started a whole life without me. Didn't come home on the breaks, didn't come home on the summers, didn't call like you said you would… you left me, Fran. You left me. And things got SO bad after you did."

"Luce… sit down…" She holds her hand out to the chair beside her.

"No."

"I'm serious Lucy, sit down."

"My name is Quinn! Stop calling me Lucy!" I stomp my foot like I'm a toddler and I can't help it because that's how I feel right now. I do feel like a toddler that can't regulate my own emotions. "My name isn't Lucy. My name is Quinn… stop calling me Lucy."

"Okay, fine. Quinn, sit down." She rubs her fingers through her shiny, dyed brown hair and takes a breath. "Please. Just sit down."

"I don't wanna sit by you."

"Fine, then don't sit down. Whatever." She rolls her eyes and shakes her head at me. "I'm sorry I left you, okay? I'm sorry. I just got out of Lima and got my first taste of freedom and… and I just never wanted to come back. I didn't want to come back, ever. And I know I left you and I know it must have been hard for you, and I'm sorry. Alright? I am sorry. Genuinely, truly, from the bottom of my heart, sorry. I never meant to hurt you. You're my baby sister and I love you. I thought you would be okay without me. I thought you were strong enough. You've always, always been stronger than me and I thought you'd be okay."

"Why didn't you at least come home for the summer?" I sniff and don't bother wiping my tears because more just keep coming anyway. "You could have at least come home for the summer… I needed you. I gave Beth up and Puck raped me and I needed you. I needed you so bad…"

"I know you did, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Q. Please, just forgive me. I know I never come home and I know I never come see you, but just drop it and forgive me. Please. If you understood even a fraction of what happened —"

"Then what happened?! You always say I don't understand this and I don't understand that, and I don't know what I'm talking about, then let me know! Make me understand! Because I'd really love to stop hating you for abandoning me, but I can't do that if you have secrets that you won't tell me. It's me, Fran. It's me. Just tell me."

"I can't tell you, you don't get it! Just trust me on this, Quinn? Trust me. Trust that for whatever reason I stayed away… for whatever reason I didn't want to come home… it was a good one. A damn good one. Just trust me."

"I don't, though." I fold my arms across my chest and look at her with anger and deep sadness both mixed in my expression. "I don't trust you. Not anymore. Not after the way you just up and left like I didn't —"

"He touched me, okay?" She looks at me for a split second, then looks away like it's too painful to look me in the eye or something. What…? "Every fricking night, every fricking time we went to the beach. God, I fucking hated going to Myrtle Beach." Her voice is soft, a tone just above a slight whisper.

"...Fran…?" My stomach makes a really loud noise and I feel nauseous all of a sudden. Who is she talking about…? She can't possibly be talking about… "Francesca, what are you saying?"

"Why do you think Dad used to push to put me to bed at night and used to make Mom put you? I was his favorite and you knew it. You knew it all along. You're not that fucking stupid, Quinn. Don't act like it. It doesn't look good on you." She rolls her eyes up to the ceiling. "I told Mom. After he did it one night, it hurt to go to the bathroom and I just… told Mom. I said 'daddy scratched me' and she just… lost it. You remember that night she woke us up out of our sleep and told us to —"

"Get our coats on because we're going to Grammy's house for a little… I remember that." I nod my head because the memory is so clear.

"Yeah, well." She shrugs and uses her fingernail to scrape away a tear that just snuck out of her right eye. "She was back with him by the end of the week. She took me to get ice cream and made me promise that I wouldn't tell anyone or else daddy would get into a lot of trouble. She promised me that he would stop."

"...Did he?"

"What do you think?" She licks her lips and looks down at the ground. "So… yeah. The first chance I got to get the hell out of that house and the hell out of Lima, I took it. I took it and I'm so sorry I left you, Quinn. I really am. But I had to go. And if you could just find it within that stubborn little heart of yours to just forgive me for that? I'd appreciate it a lot."

Finally, I drag my feet over to the table and sit down in the seat right next to her. I'm finding it a little hard to be mad at her for all the things she said on Thanksgiving, but this doesn't change what she said. Still, I feel for my sister in this moment. So I do what any sister would do, and I hold her hand. I didn't know. And I feel so bad but I really didn't know. I guess if I look back, the signs are sort of there. Mom always put me to bed while Dad put Frannie to bed. Mom used to help me into my pajamas while Dad helped Frannie. Dad used to take Frannie on "special walks" every time we went to the beach and I would get so mad because she'd come back with ice cream. He always used to put Frannie on his shoulders and carry me on his back when I begged for it to be the other way around. He really did always favor Frannie but I used to think it was because she was good and I was ornery.

"I'm so sorry I didn't know…" I whisper to her. "I didn't know, Fran. I didn't know."

"I'm over it." She pulls her hand out from underneath mine and shrugs her shoulders again. "I put it behind me. We're Fabrays, that's what we do. We suck it up, we bury it and we don't let it bother us. We keep our heads up. We don't talk about it, we act like it doesn't exist. It's what we do."

"But that's not healthy. It might be the way we were raised but that's not what you should do. You should get help and talk to someone and —"

"And what? Get Dad locked up forever? Leave Mom alone so she can go off the rails? She'd really be begging for you back. You know Mom can't be alone, she'd literally —"

"He molested you… he molested you and you're still… civil with him, you still talk to him, you still see him. And Mom just let that go. She turned the other cheek like it wasn't happening and you're just… okay? With that?"

"Of course I'm not okay with it, but what can you do? I can't make it un-happen. All I can do is move forward and he's still our Dad. I can't change that. I can hate him forever but he's still our Dad. Mom's gonna choose him. No matter what. You know that. Tell me you don't know that."

"I've seen it firsthand," I mumble.

"Exactly. So look, Q. Look. I am beyond happy that you got out of there. I grew up a Fabray, I know that there is anywhere in the world better than that house and any family in the world better than that family. I know all of that. I went back to the hotel last night and I did some really deep thinking about what I said to you on Thanksgiving."

"And…?"

"And I'm sorry for saying it. I'm sorry for how it came across. I judged this place before I really got to know it and I judged this family without getting to know them, too. I just meant that… I think you deserve the world. I think you deserve something easy and something effortless and a place where you can just… be a kid, Quinn. Be a kid. You deserve that. And I guess…" She sighs. "I drove here. Instead of taking a flight, I put some gas in Kevin's SUV and I drove here from Cambridge because I thought the long drive would give me some time to try and come up with a solution for you. I've been feeling so guilty about leaving you in that house and not being there for you when you tried to commit suicide, and I just… I felt like I had to fix it. I felt like you fell apart and it was my fault so I had to fix it. And in my mind, you were living in a dump. You ran away from home and you were living in a dump with people who had no money and no means to give you what you deserve. I got so attached to the idea of you coming back to Massachusetts with me that when I saw this place and saw how happy you looked and how happy you were with Beth, I… I got mad. Mad that you did it without me and found a place that I wanted so desperately when I was in your shoes. I got mad and I said some things I didn't mean."

"I'm not mad at you for that…" I admit with a whisper. "You were judging. You saw the house and saw that it was nothing like ours and you knew they were black and you started judging. Your mind went crazy and you started judging."

"It's not because they're black, Quinn. It's —"

"Yes it is. Yes it is, and that's okay. I mean, it's not okay. But it's understandable. Mom and Dad had us so programmed to think like them that it's hard to undo it. I worked really, really hard to undo it when they took me in for the first time. It took a lot — I mean a lot — of work for me to undo all the things that Mom and Dad taught us to hate. And you may not think they did. They never expressly told us that we're better than them and that we deserve more than them or anything, but think about it. Think about all those times at the store where Dad refused to put the change in their outstretched hands. Or all the times Mom refused to let us sleep over their houses. Think about how Dad automatically assumed that they were drug dealers or crooks or all the times Mom locked the doors when we were driving through Lima Heights. …It's in us, Fran. It's deep, deep in us. It's not okay, it's something you are going to have to unlearn if you want to be in my life because this is my FAMILY. And this is how we break the cycle. This is how we become better than the Fabrays."

"You're right," she mutters under her breath. "I mean certainly I don't want to admit that I'm… accidentally racist, but. You know." She bites her lip and pauses for a second. "...I hate it when you're right."

"I'm always right, Fran. You should be used to it by now." I wink at her and she laughs. We're making good progress here… but there's just one more thing I need to address… "I forgive you for what you said about me being gay, too."

"Quinn, wait —"

"No, it's okay. I mean, I thought about what you said too and… and while I want to hate you for making me feel so shitty about it, I realize that you're right too. I did change."

"Don't apologize to me, don't —"

"But you're right. I spent sixteen years of my life being one way. Sixteen years pretending to like boys, sixteen years pretending like I wanted to get married like Mom and Dad and have a big family, sixteen years pretending like I'm straight. For sixteen years, I was straight in your eyes. Mom and Dad's too. I was a good Christian, a good girl, celibacy club, heterosexual, picture perfect high school girl. And then I changed. One day, I'm coming to you saying that I'm gay. Telling you that it was all just an act and I've been gay all along. I understand how hard that must have been for you to accept. You thought you knew me and then I threw a curveball and said that you don't. And while it doesn't excuse everything you said to me about going to hell, I want you to know that I get it. You're allowed to react the way you need to react to process it. But don't invalidate me. It's what I am. It's not a phase. Sorry I threw a curveball at you and expected you to handle it with complete grace. But I'm gay. And I really hope you can accept it."

"I mean it was shocking. And you're totally right, I was thinking that I knew you better than that. I was thing that I would have known if you were gay, that wasn't something you could squeeze past me. But I was wrong for that. You surprised me and again, I got mad because there was something about you that I didn't know. I got mad and I said things I didn't mean. I know it's not a phase. I know it's who you are and I meant it when I said that I'm happy for you. I'm happy that you don't have to hide anymore. And it might take me a while, okay? It might take me a while to wrap my head around it because you know, the Bible and everything, but just give me a minute. Give me a minute and I swear I'll get it together.

"You promise?"

"I promise, Little Luce. I'll get it together. I don't care if you're gay. All I care about is that you're happy and you do seem happy. You do. You're absolutely glowing. I'm sorry for everything that I said Thursday and I'm sorry for saying that I wouldn't support it because I do. I was just… trying to get my little Lucy back, I think. You're growing up on me and getting mature and I don't like it. I want you to need me again. You have a baby and you found a really great home and great people and you have a girlfriend. You dropped that bomb on me and I just felt like… like if I could tell you that I don't support it and have you decide to drop it? Then that's a part of my baby sister that I got back."

"I'll always be your baby sister, Fran." I lay my head on her shoulder like I did upstairs when she was holding Beth. "Always."

"You're just my baby sister who eats pussy now, no big deal."

Even with my head still on her shoulder, I start to laugh so hard that my stomach burns and it's the kind of laugh where nothing comes out. Everything is silent because all of your breath is dedicated to that one laugh and nothing else in the world seems to matter in that moment. Your stomach hurts and your chest is sore and it's for all the right reasons. I love that.

"...So tell me about Rachel." She says after we're both done laughing. "What's she like? You got a picture? Is she pretty?"

"Oh my god, she's gorgeous!" I grab my phone from my sweatpants pocket and quick go to Rachel's Instagram. "She is SO beautiful, Frannie. Just look at her…"

Frannie grabs my phone and starts scrolling through Rachel's Instagram feed and there's nothing in this world quite like this.

I never thought I'd see the day where I could fish over my girlfriend in the presence of my sister...

December 2

Thanksgiving break was everything I needed it to be and more.

It's crazy how so much can happen in a matter of a few days. In a matter of a few days, I grew closer than ever with my therapist, fell in love even more with my girlfriend, bonded with my daughter on a different level, felt more apart of a family than I've ever felt in my life, and found another best friend in my sister.

I feel like my life is looking up and it's a scary feeling because the only place to go is down.

Even thought me and my sister fought like crazy on Thanksgiving day, I look back at it and think of it as the last time I was truly happy. I think back to being in the living room and playing trivia with my family. Beth was trying to stay awake in my arms and Mercedes was smacking her brother upside the head for getting a question wrong and letting my team take the lead. Rachel was excited to buzz in because she knew that Hippolyta was the daughter of Ares and nobody else did. I think of how the little cousin TJ won it all for Mercedes' team when they were down by a point and he answered "six" when the speaker asked how many championships Michael Jordan won. Rachel was pissed when we lost and only calmed down when I held her hand and nobody looked at us funny.

I think back to standing in front of everybody nervous as hell when the music for my first karaoke round started, then how I got more comfortable towards the end when everyone was clapping in tune to my music and cheering me on. I think about how it felt to stand in front of everyone as the worst singer in the room, but feel like everyone loved me and liked my version of Rascal Flatts' "Stand."

We let Nana, Mom, Dad, Aunt Reenie and Mykel's girlfriend be the judge because they didn't want to sing. I sang Stand by Rascal Flatts because I really like the whole "when push comes to shove, you taste what you're made of. You might bend 'til you break 'cause it's all you can take. On your knees you look up, decide you've had enough. You get mad, you get strong, wipe your hands, shake it off, then you stand." I felt like it was the most fitting song for me and my voice didn't sound like garbage.

Tatiana sang a really pretty rendition of Rihanna's "California King Bed" that really won everyone over and kind of made me mad because everyone in Mercedes' family can sing. Tiana sang "Breathe Me" by Sia, which was pretty but kind of depressed everyone. TJ made everyone laugh when he sang "Old Town Road." But the real stiff competition came from Sam, Mercedes and Rachel. Sam wasn't that good, I think he just kind of captured everyone with the way he sang to Mercedes. He did a really cute version of "Never Be The Same" by Camila Cabello and he sang to Mercedes the whole time and it was just really cute, which made everyone think they were cute. Then Mercedes sang some song I'd never heard of and I just had to download it after I heard her sing it because she sang it so well. It was called "I'm Goin' Down" by Mary J. Blige and she blew everyone away. I mean, everyone. But then Rachel went last and she did her thing with "Wind Beneath My Wings."

Me, Rachel, Mercedes, Sam and Tatiana made it through to the second round. Me and Tatiana were knocked out after that. Then Mercedes, Rachel and Sam battled for the top. Sam won because he sang Taylor Swift's "Lover" and I admit… he deserved that win. It was really cute again. What can I say? He knows how to appeal to the crowd.

My relationship with my sister feels a lot different nowadays. We're texting a whole lot more and just checking in with each other now just because we can. I feel bad knowing that she's been walking around with such a dark secret inside of her and I hope that someday she talks to someone and let's it all out.

Me and Mom went to go get the rest of my stuff from my old house on Sunday. I was nervous, but I went with her because I felt like it was a part that was important so I could close the door on that chapter of my life. We walked up to the front door and I wanted to throw up. She knocked and I stood behind her. She knocked and knocked and knocked and rang the doorbell and knocked again. Nobody answered.

In a way, I was a little bit relieved that nobody answered because that meant I didn't have to face them. We knew they were home because both their cars were in the driveway, but we got no answer and that was okay with me. I wasn't sure how I'd handle seeing them after so long anyway.

Eventually me and Mom went home. We went home and grabbed Mercedes, Dad and Mykel and went out to dinner because Mykel was leaving in a couple hours.

Mom told me that we'll just buy another one of whatever I left in that house and she promised me that everything was going to be alright.

I kind of believe her. I do think that everything is going to be alright.

December 4

I think Mercedes is happy to have her solo back, but I haven't told her that she got it back because Rachel told Mr. Schue to take it away from her.

I don't think she needs to know that. I think she just needs to enjoy the fact that she got the solo back.

Regionals are right around the corner and so is Rachel's birthday and so is winter formal. I've been thinking and I think I've got a way to ask her to winter formal. I came up with it a couple hours ago after we (tried to, on my part) had sex.

We went to the mall today after Glee club because Mr. Schue trusted us to get materials for sectionals costumes and after we finished, we got in the car and the parking lot was dark and nearly empty, so we just climbed into the backseat and let desire take over. I got weird again when she tried to touch me, but she didn't get mad. She understood and didn't push it, but I got mad at myself for not being able to let it happen. Tonight before I go to bed, I'm going to try to touch myself like Bailey said I should because I'm getting really sick and tired of not being able to fully enjoy sex with Rachel. Anyway, that's not the point. The point is that I have the perfect winter formal-posal.

We were sweaty and kissing, even despite the fact that I still had her all over my mouth. She pulled away to breathe and looked at me with a certain sparkle in her eye and smiled. She told me that she felt like I saw her for who she really is and I told her that who she is is the brightest star in my galaxy. Which gave me an idea…

My winter formal-posal is going to be epic.