A/N: Yay! I was able to get the infamous chapter 62 up the next day! (By splitting it into two chapters, so you guys get an extra chapter of this story. Lol. And chapter 63 is going to be worse than this one since it's basically 62 part 2)

Just a quick heads up so you guys aren't confused, these next two or three chapters will bounce between third person and first person POV so you can get inside other characters' heads when Quinn isn't able to narrate anymore. I'll try my best to make sure it's seamless so there's no confusion when the switches take place, but if you're ever confused just let me know and I'll explain it for you.

TRIGGER WARNING FOR THIS CHAPTER:

Quinn goes into detail about her suicide attempt, so there's some pretty heavy language and it could be a little triggering, so please use discretion while reading.

From the kitchen, Mom cranes her neck and nearly breaks her back to look down the hallway when she hears the door open and slam shut behind me. She stands at the stove, nudging something back and forth with a spatula while soft music plays from her old radio. Maybe if today was a normal day, I'd go into the kitchen and ask her if she needed help with dinner because I'm home really early and I don't want to be completely useless. If today was a normal day, I'd sit at the table and finally tell her that Rachel kissed Finn and I've been really upset. I would never tell her that I kissed Bailey. Ever.

Today's not a normal day, anyway.

"Jare?" Mom calls out from the kitchen as she turns her radio down a smidge. "Honey, is that you?"

I knew as soon as I left through the cafeteria doors and got into my car that I was going to be in serious trouble, probably suspended for leaving school without parent or faculty permission. I knew as soon as I walked through the door, Mom would question why I'm home at 12:45 in the afternoon when school doesn't let out for another two hours. I knew when I made the conscious decision to leave school during the middle of the day that I was going to be in for some serious consequences. But at this point? I don't really care.

I don't even bother taking my shoes off at the door. I just swat Whitney and Bobby away from me, hang my jacket over the railing of the steps, and head up them. I hear Mom's footsteps creaking into the hallway but I don't bother to stop walking up the steps to talk to her. I have one goal and one goal only. And that goal is to get in my bed, pull the covers over my head, and cry so hard that my stomach and my head feel like they're going to burst. I'm not getting out of bed today. I'm not getting out of bed tomorrow. Hell, I might not even get out of bed for the rest of the week.

"Quinn?" She stops at the bottom of the steps and calls my name as she watches me climb them. "Baby, what you doing home? Is everything alright? You feeling okay?"

"Why don't you just mind your fucking business, okay?" I stomp up the last few steps and stomp down the hallway to my room.

"Excuse me?" I hear her talking as she climbs up the steps but again, I don't even stop. "I said 'excuse me', Quinn. Who do you think you're talking to?"

"You and your whole damn family, just mind your fucking business." I hear her walking behind me, but I just disappear into my room and slam the door behind me so hard that the walls shake and I hear the wood crack.

I don't care enough to talk to her and if she's going to hit me or smack me in the mouth or kick me out or ground me or punish me or grab a belt and whip me or whatever kind of discipline she decides to use on me for cursing at her, I don't care. I don't have the energy in me to care. I really don't. All I care about is the way my mattress feels underneath of my body. And how my quilt hides me when I pull it over my head.

Now what am I supposed to do without Bailey? She's not going to see me again. I think that's a rule. She has to transfer me to someone else, someone else who won't care nearly as much as she does and someone who won't get me the way she gets me. I just lost her. She was the only good thing in my life and I lost her. I lost her because I'm so mixed up and… and kissing her felt good. Kissing her felt so good. It felt the most good I've felt since Rachel kissed Finn but now I lost her. The best thing in my life and I lost her too… why do I wreck everything I touch? Why do I —

My door busts open without even so much as a knock for warning and for some reason, that really sets me off. I sit up so quickly and so angrily that I don't even think about what's coming out of my mouth, I just let it come out.

"Knock much?!" I yell at her and she completely ignores me. The look on her face would scare me any other day but not today. Today I am fearless. Today, nothing can hurt me. Nothing can hurt you if you don't care about anything.

"You know what, little girl?!" She storms over to my bed and rips my blankets away from me. "Get up! Now!" I've never heard her yell this way before, but all I can do is stare at her. She doesn't intimidate me. Whatever she does to me can't hurt me. "You think I won't drag your little ass out this bed?! I SAID GET UP. NOW."

"Or what?!" I roll my eyes and fish my phone from the back pocket of my jeans. "You gonna take my phone?! Here." I toss it on my bed where she can grab it, then go for my other pocket where my car keys are too. "Take my keys?! Here. Have at it. I'll give you anything to just shut up and leave me alone. I'm SICK. I don't feel well. I don't need you checking up on me every five seconds, I don't need you making me any stupid appointments to see the doctor. What I need is for you and your pushy ass husband and your invasive ass daughter to back the hell up, leave me alone, and let me have a life."

Mom looks at my phone and my keys on the edge of my bed, then back at me. Her eyes are wide, anger bubbling in her like the soup she made over the weekend. Her nostrils flare, a vein in her forehead sticks out, her hands curl up into fists. Hit me… go ahead. Just do it. I know you want to, so you might as well do it. I'm your daughter, right? You truly believe that, don't you? You love me like your own? Well if you love me, then hit me. Just like you would if I were your real daughter. Hit me.

"...If I was you…" Her voice comes out in a tone way lower than the way she usually talks and it's almost like she's trying to talk through her teeth, which are clenched together. "And I wanted to stay in this house… I would think LONG and HARD about the way you just spoke to me… and I would NEVER do it again."

I roll my eyes at her again and grab the quilt that she pulled off my body. I cover myself with it again and turn my back when I lie down so that it's facing her. See? I knew you couldn't do it. I knew you couldn't hit me. You say I'm like your daughter and you love me just the same. But you can't even discipline me the way you'd discipline Mercedes. You won't hit me. You don't love me the same. Get out of my room. Fucking liar.

She closes my door behind herself once she leaves and I close my eyes.

What do I care if she kicks me out? So I go live on the streets, whatever. I can make my own way in this world. Maybe I'll even get lucky and starve to death on the street. What do I care if I can't ever come back here? I don't need them in my life. I don't need anybody. I don't need anybody except for myself. They don't need me either. They'd be much happier if it was back to normal with them just having two kids instead of a third who is more trouble than she's worth. I don't add anything to their lives. It's not like they would miss me if I were gone. I'm so insignificant in this world that it wouldn't make a difference if I were in it either way.

I've already lost everything else I care about… what difference does it make if I lose them too? Rachel's gone. Bailey's gone. I gave Beth to Shelby. Judy won't talk to me, Russel hates me. Frannie's in another state. What's the difference if I add Jared and Patrice to that list? What difference will it make if Mercedes is gone too?

I ruin everything. I ruined my parents' life by getting pregnant. I ruined Beth's life by coming into it when she could have been perfectly happy with just Shelby. I ruined Rachel's life by making her feel like she's gay when she's clearly not. I ruined the Joneses lives by showing up with bruises on my face and needing a place to stay. And now I've successfully managed to ruin Bailey's life, too. If anyone finds out, she'll lose her job and probably her therapy license and probably her child abuse clearances. She'll lose custody of her son, probably go to jail, probably have to register as a sex offender. All because I had the urge to kiss her and my stupid self couldn't keep that to myself. She doesn't deserve this… she doesn't deserve to have gotten wrapped up with me. It's all my fault. It's all my fault and she's going to hate me now and I can't blame her because I hate me now too.

I hate me now too…

I needed her. She was the best thing that's ever happened to me. I was really starting to make positive changes when I talked to her and she felt like my friend. She felt like someone I could really trust and I really liked her and I messed up. I messed up. Now what am I gonna do?

I kissed Bailey and I broke up with Rachel and I cussed at Mom and I… I just don't know what's happening… why isn't anything getting better?

Why is everything getting worse?

My stomach makes this really loud gurgling noise and I start to feel a little lightheaded, so I pull my covers back and I swing my feet over the side of the bed so I can get up.

I have to hold onto the wall as I walk down the hallway because my stomach feels so queasy that I honestly can't stand upright. I'm glad that Mom isn't in the hallway and she went back downstairs because even though she's mad at me right now, I know that she'd be in my business and wondering why I feel so sick and why I'm holding onto the wall.

Somehow I manage to make it to the bathroom without blowing chunks all over the floor. I shut the door behind myself and don't bother locking it because I won't be in her for very long. I drag my feet over to the toilet, flip the seat up, and stare down into the clear water below…

She tilts the third bottle of pills over and shakes a few out into her hand. Just like she did with the two previous handfuls she already swallowed, she stares at them for a few seconds as they lay in the middle of her palm. She thought it was strange how ten tiny orange pills held the key to her entire life.

She grazes her finger across one of the tablets and takes a deep breath because for some reason, only then did it start to feel real to her. She doesn't know why, but the other two handfuls she swallowed just didn't feel very real to her. Now, on the their and final handful she plans to take, she is suddenly very aware of what she's doing.

You see, she just wants to sleep.

She had the most amazing dream last night about her baby. Her baby was little and she was warm and she had little blonde hair all over her head. It was just her and her baby and they were alone in the hospital room, nobody else there to bother them. She held her baby close to her body and stroked her cheek as she nursed from her breast. She was hers and there was nobody storming in to take her baby away from her. Her baby was perfect and they had each other and she knew that her baby was all she needed in the world. Her baby was the light to end all her darkness, a life saving raft in the middle of the ocean she almost drowned in. Her baby made everything worth it and they belonged to each other.

Then she woke up.

She woke up and she could still feel her baby's lips latched onto her, her baby's breath tickling her chest. She could still feel her baby breathing against her and she could still smell the shampoo the nurses washed her baby's hair with. She could even feel the weight of her baby lying against her. But when she woke up, she wasn't there. Her baby wasn't there and it was just the most marvelous dream and she wanted to do it again. That's all she wanted.

She leans against the headboard of her bed and grabs the bottle of water from her nightstand. She isn't one to chicken out of something. She is a Fabray. And when a Fabray does something, they don't half-ass it. They do it 100%. She isn't backing down, she isn't pussying out. She is going to do it and she is going to do it right now.

She tilts her head back and rips the last of the pills into her open mouth, washing them down with the water as quickly as possible to avoid tasting them. She feels the pills hitting the bottom of her stomach, weighing it down line she dropped bricks instead of pills.

She knows that it will kick in any minute. She knows that any minute now, she'll lie down and close her eyes and everything will be all over.

All the times she felt sick when she saw his status updates pop up on her newsfeed. All the times she went to take a nap on the couch but felt his sloppy hands prying her legs apart instead. The constant disgust she felt when she looked in the mirror, and the shame that draped itself over her shoulders every time she saw the barely-noticeable blood stain on the back of her Cheerios skirt. The aching sensation she got in her chest when she opened up Shelby's Facebook page and saw her baby growing up without her. The feeling that she is missing a piece of her heart. And the fear she felt when faced with the realization that having sex isn't what she wanted to do that night…

Everything will be gone in a minute. She'll be gone in a minute.

She'll be gone and everyone's lives will remain the same. Nobody's world will stop turning. She'll just be someone who was here one day and gone the next. She didn't touch anyone's lives. She doesn't make a difference to anyone. She doesn't matter in this world. Nobody will miss her when she's gone. When she's gone, nobody will speak at her funeral because nobody has a nice word to say about her. She'll just be someone who used to exist. She'll be another headstone in the cemetery.

She opens her eyes back up because there still isn't anything happening. Why isn't anything happening? Shouldn't something be happening by now? She needs it to happen now, before she loses her nerve. If she lays in bed any longer, she's going to lose her nerve and she's not going to be brave enough to do it and she couldn't add this to her list of failures. She just couldn't. She failed as a daughter, she failed as Finn's girlfriend, she failed as another, she failed as a Christian, she failed as a good role model… she can't fail at this too. She can't fail at killing herself. There has to be something in this world that she can do right…

Then she remembers that there's one pill in the medicine cabinet she hasn't tried yet…

So even though her head feels like it's fifty pounds and it's hard for her to pick it up off her pillow, she manages to do it anyway and is a little scared when everything in her hearing is muffled and fuzzy as she walks across the hallway and back into the bathroom.

And something happens…

She can't feel her legs…

Her heart is beating too fast…

I'm slipping away…

My stomach… burns.

My ears… burn.

I'm falling…

I'm on the floor. On the floor and my arm. Arm hurts. Stomach is tight. Loud. I fell loud.

I feel…

I'm disappearing…

My eyes blink but I can't blink anymore… too tired…

I'm…

Fading.

Like dust particles up into the sky…

It's like drifting off into sleep, except you know that you won't wake up.

The more you blink, the heavier your eyes get and the harder it becomes to keep them open. You know that eventually, there's going to be a time when you blink and your eyes just don't open up again. And you feel the weight leaving your body, almost. Little pieces of you break away and crumble and dissolve into the air until you're… nothing.

My eyes blink, then they're heavy. My head is heavy. My ears ring. My heart beats a little too fast to be comfortable.

Then there's fingernails in my mouth, trying to make me throw up.

Smooth fingernails, neatly trimmed. They scratch the back of my throat and the hand is salty. Salty, salty. A little bit of blood.

No, a lot of blood…

It's a lot of…

Blood.

I've never seen blood this color before, I've never seen blood this dark. It's deep, deep, dark red. Almost black. Why is there so much? There's so much of it, there's so much blood… so much blood, there's so much blood! It's on the toilet seat, on the floor, inside the toilet…

The toilet is red. It's full, full full full full of blood so much blood so much blood a lot of blood too much blood nobody should bleed this much…

I take two steps, backing away from the toilet but I only get a step and a half in before I lose my balance and fall to the floor. I can't feel my legs… I can't feel my legs and my heart is beating too fast.

When I fall, I bite down on something. Ow… ow… ow… I bit… I bit my hand? My hand was in my mouth? I didn't feel it… that was my hand? My hand in my mouth? That was me? I made myself throw up? This is my blood? My blood? I came in here to throw up, I know I did. I know I did. But I don't even see any throw up in the toilet, I see blood. There's so much blood, so much blood. Did that come out of me?

I grab onto the sink ledge to pull myself up because I'm just gonna clean this up and then go back to bed and act like this didn't happen. This didn't happen, this isn't my blood… it's not.

I leave a bloody handprint on the sink as I pull myself up and my throat feels like it's… gone. It feels like it's gone, I can't feel my throat, so I cough. I cough because I need to know that my throat isn't missing or in the toilet or whatever throats do when they're hurt. I cough and then more blood splatters onto the mirror and into the sink and I open my mouth and it pours out! It's so dark and so thick and so red and it's pouring out of my mouth like lemonade from a pitcher!

There's too much blood… this is too much blood…

Mom…? Mom, I'm sorry… but can you please help me?

"So I was hoping that maybe dad could go with me and Sam to pick out his tux. His dad's been working crazy hours just to come up with the money for tickets, Sam doesn't really wanna ask him to miss work to take him shopping for a tux." Mercedes drummed her pencil along her notebook.

"Yeah, I'm sure daddy will go with you and do that. Sam gonna buy a tux or rent one for winter formal?" Mrs. Jones tucked the tag of her daughter's shirt down and rubbed her back.

"Rent. Which is still super expensive and he can barely afford." Mercedes sighed and opened up her calculator. "I'm gonna pull my savings and see about helping him pay for it. It won't be that bad if we split it two ways."

"I'll talk to daddy and have him pay for it, don't worry." Mrs. Jones said. "You been talkin' to Quinn lately, squish?" She ran her fingers through her daughter's silky black hair and read the math problem over her shoulder. She pointed to the answer that Mercedes got wrong, then went back to draining the pot of ground beef cooking on the stove.

"I talked to her at lunch for a little. She said she wasn't feeling well and stuff. The usual." Mercedes erased her answer and put her pencil down, deciding to come back to the math problems that she wasn't understanding just a little bit later. "She's probably going to be suspended for leaving school."

"I know, I know. I done called up the school already. They said she can't come back for three days. She can't just be leaving like that." Mrs. Jones sighed and began cutting the tomatoes into cubes so she could boil them. "I don't know what imma do with her. It's like she just don't wanna be here 'Cedes. I ain't gonna force her, but where else she gonna go?"

"Quinn's rough around the edges, Ma. You just gotta love her hard. Trust me on this. When she pushes you away? That's when she needs you the most." Mercedes stood up and went over to the pantry in search of the package of Oreos. "She's just been through a lot and it makes her a little hard sometimes." She plucked three Oreos from the package and put it back. "Is she grounded?"

"I dunno right now. My first instinct is to ground her for eternity for that smart mouth she got. But then I just… I think the child is hurting and I wanna get to the bottom of it." Mrs. Jones put the pot back on the stove. "She say anything to you 'bout why she done came home? Or she just come home 'cause she was sick? If she come home 'cause she was sick, all she hadda do was call me. I'dda called up that school and told them to excuse her. She ain't have to just leave." She dumped the tomatoes into the pot and began cutting green peppers next. "I think there's something wrong with her. I just ain't know what. But the child ain't been eatin'. She ain't been eatin', she losin' weight left and right… maybe I oughta get her some vitamins or something."

"Well she hasn't said anything to me about anything, so," Mercedes bit an Oreo and leaned against the counter. "If there was something seriously wrong, she would have told me. I think she's just sick and plus she's been kinda sad lately."

"Why she sad?"

"Because…" Mercedes pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth and silently debated on whether or not she should tell her mom. On one hand, her mom really did seem concerned about Quinn. On the other hand, she didn't think Quinn wanted their mom to know about her and Rachel's problems… "There's just this thing, that's all."

"You don't know why she sad?" Mrs. Jones scraped the peppers and onions into the pot next, then put a lid on top. It was times like this where she wished she could get inside of Quinn's head. In truth, all she wanted to do was understand her. She knew that Quinn wasn't the best at opening up, but could trust her… Quinn could trust her. "Maybe I oughta ask Rachel, Rachel probably know why she sad."

"Rachel's the reason she's sad, Ma." Mercedes hung her head, suddenly feeling like a really crappy friend. She could rationalize that she only told for the sake of Quinn, but Quinn would never see it that way… "They broke up. They broke up at regionals. And Quinn's taking it pretty hard."

"So that's what's up with her." Everything suddenly made sense for Patrice, and she completely understood. Now that she had a better understanding, she could say for certain that Quinn was grounded. But at least she had a reason for her sour moods, so then she could be as supportive as possible. "I 'member my first heartbreak. It was rough. That typa thing'll knock you on your ass if you ain't ready for it. My poor girl."

"Yeah, Quinn's the one who broke up with her. But she's still taking it pretty hard."

"I'll say she's taking it pretty hard." Mrs. Jones snickered with sarcasm and glanced into the kitchen to make sure her husband was still invested in the television set and not listening to what they were talking about. "She dropped the f-bomb at me. A few times."

"What do you mean she dropped the f-bomb at you?" Mercedes looked at her mom with narrowed eyes, feeling a surge of anger race through her entire body. She couldn't believe Quinn would say such a thing to their mother. After everything she and her family did, Quinn would say something like that…? She couldn't believe it. She couldn't believe it and she was mad as hell.

"Now 'Cedes, look. Don't go saying nothing to her and don't go starting to problems. Imma —"

"Is that why she won't come outta her room? Because she knew I was gonna be pissed off hearing that she swore at my mother?"

"I think she sleep. She sleep and Imma handle it. Ain't no sense in you getting all worked up about it. Imma handle it. Imma talk to daddy later and Imma handle it."

"No, mom. I'll handle it. I'm not just gonna let this go. She can't just come up into our house and disrespect you like that. I love her to death but that's not cool. That's not cool and I'm gonna go let her know how I feel about it." Mercedes headed for the staircase and stomped up each step with conviction, silently practicing what she was going to say to Quinn in her head.

She stomped down to the opposite end of the hallway and knocked twice on Quinn's bedroom door, even though it wasn't completely shut. "Quinn, it's me. I'm coming in, okay?" Mercedes pushed them door just a little and let it swing open, slightly annoyed when she found nothing but a dark bedroom and rustled bedsheets.

She sighed hard and went to the other end of the hallway once again, knowing that Quinn must have been in the bathroom. She saw the light glowing from underneath the door, knew that she found Quinn, and knocked twice.

"Hey listen," she started, trying to reign her anger in so that she didn't say anything too out of line and anything that would ruin their friendship. "When you get outta there, we need to talk. My mom told me what you said to her and it didn't like it. So we gotta talk about it. Okay?"

There was nothing but radio silence on the other side of the door, so Mercedes put her ear against it. She heard nothing with her ear pressed against the door, which annoyed her a little more because she knew then that Quinn was ignoring her.

"Come on, Quinn. You can't be in there forever. I'm not even that mad, I just wanna talk about it. So you need to come out. Like now."

Still silence, which only fueled Mercedes' irritation. She knew that Quinn was still upset about breaking up with Rachel, and she completely understood it. But she couldn't believe how blatantly disrespectful she was being lately. There was something deeper wrong with Quinn… she just knew it. She knew her best friend.

"If you don't say something in the next five seconds, I'm coming in." Mercedes said and put her hand on the doorknob. "I said I'm coming in." Still nothing. "Fine, suit yourself."

Mercedes twisted the doorknob and pushed the bathroom door open hastily, fully prepared to give Quinn a piece of her mind. But as soon as the door was open… she stopped dead in her tracks…

She noticed the blood at first — the darkest blood she had ever seen — pooled in multiple spots on the floor. There was a large stain of it on the light blue rug, a trail of it leading from the sink to the toilet, then rivers of it spilling from the top of the toilet seat. She thought it looked like a scene ripped straight from a horror movie. She thought blood that color only ever came from the movies and the placement of it all seemed so perfect. From the circular pools of it on the rug and the floor to the splatters on the mirror and bloody handprint on the sink.

She noticed Quinn next… and she completely froze.

Face down with her head angled slightly to the left, Quinn laid on the floor completely stiff with her arms straight down at her sides. Her usually beautiful, soft blonde hair was sticky with blood and her fair skin was stained red. Though her jaw was clenched tightly together, Mercedes could still see a stream of blood dripping out the side of her mouth and collecting in the pool that had already started to gather below her chin.

Mercedes began to shake and her chest was suddenly tight. She took a deep breath — the deepest she could take — and let out the most blood-curdling, brain-spinning, stomach-churning scream she could conjure up.

"MOM!" She screamed as loud and as long as her body would let her. "MOMMY! MOMMY! MOMMY!" She continued to scream, hoping that the screaming would bring her back to reality. And on some level, it did. She let go of the door that was keeping her anchored to the ground and immediately dropped to her knees, kneeling in a pool of blood but not really caring.

"Quinn?!" She puts her hands on her best friend's back and shook a little. "Quinn, wake up! Wake up, wake up, its — MOM! MOM!"

Mrs. Jones climbed the steps so fast that it sounded like a herd of elephants barreling through the house. She had never heard her daughter scream like that. As a mother, she prided herself on knowing her children's different cries. When her children were younger, she could tell what was wrong with them just by the sound of their cry. But this wasn't something she'd ever heard from her daughter before. And for that reason, she knew something was incredibly wrong…

"Oh my GOD!" Mrs. Jones hardly noticed all the blood. All she noticed and all she cared about was Quinn, lying on the floor unresponsive and motionless. "Move! Move, move, move, move, move! Mercedes, move!" She pushed her daughter out of the way and shook Quinn next. "Quinn?" She grunted as she pulled Quinn's practically lifeless body into her lap and held her head. "What's the matter, baby? It's Mom, I'm here… I'm here, come on." She patted her on the cheek and got no response whatsoever. Tears rolled off her cheeks and onto Quinn's forehead. "JARED!"

"Mom, is she dead?!" Mercedes held her hand against her heart and sobbed so hard her entire body shook. "Is she dead? Mom, she can't die. She can't die, she's my best friend. Is she dead? I need her, mom… mommy… Quinn! Wake up!"

"Oh my…" Mr. Jones whispered as he stood by the door and took in the scene. "God." He choked back a little bit of bile that rose up in the back of his throat but pulled himself together. "Tricey, here!" He shoved his cell phone at her and knelt down beside Quinn to immediately get to work. "Call an ambulance. Call an ambulance, now!"

"Jared, she's —"

"She's gonna be fine, just call the ambulance." He tilted Quinn's head back and used his thumbs to pry her clenched jaw open. "Mercedes, get out of here. Now. Get out of here. You don't need to be seeing this, go. NOW!" He used his hand to scoop three big clots of blood from Quinn's mouth and tried to keep himself steady. "I SAID GO, MERCEDES!"

"I'm not leaving her! I'm not leaving her! Daddy, she can't die on me, okay? She can't, she's my best friend, she's… I need her! I need her! She's my best friend, I need her! I…" Mercedes held her heart again as she listened to her mother answer questions on the phone. She took a few deep breaths and stood up, blood all over her pants.

"...I gotta go, I gotta… I gotta go call Rachel." She said.

A/N: and also I want to say;; I really love you guys and I don't deserve all your sweet comments. You guys are seriously the best fandom I've ever written for and I feel so loved and welcomed and appreciated and I want you guys to know that you're just as appreciated by me. I really do love each and every single one of you and I can't wait until I get some time to reply to these long reviews you guys are spoiling me with. It makes me so excited to start my new Faberry story after this one is over.

Please don't ever feel like you guys have to apologize to me for telling me what you don't like about the story. I know the difference between constructive criticism, strong opinions and hate and trust me when I say you guys are the complete opposite of hate. Even when you're telling me you don't like something, you guys are always so nice to me and it's surreal because I've written for other fandoms who have honestly torn me apart. Other fandoms have been absolutely brutal and dragged me through the pits of hell so trust me when I say… I don't get offended easily, you guys are all freaking awesome and the NICEST fandom I've ever written for and it makes me wish I had put aside my insecurities and written for faberry back when the fandom was at it's prime. unfortunately, i was 13 when glee was in its prime (i just aged myself :/ lol) and i wasnt confident about my writing and posting it, so. i wish i had gotfen into this fandom sooner. I seriously want to be friends with all of you.