Amnesia; Quinn Fabray, 207 words; rated PG
Quinn wishes she had amnesia. She wishes that she'd wake up one morning with absolutely no memory of what had happened and that she could start her life over again without the blinding heartache of the past year.
Seeing Beth - even seeing Puck, in the wrong light, in the wrong mood - sets off another crying jag inside her. She's learned how to dull her eyes, fade the sparkle, creating the illusion that she doesn't care.
She cares.
Her problem isn't that she cares too little; it's that she cares too much. Giving Beth the life she'd been told was the best thing for her was, in retrospect, the worst thing she could have done for her own. She wishes she could forget that Beth was hers, that there's a little girl running around with half her genes - she's done the Punnett squares in biology, she knows that logic dictates that Beth will have at least something in common with her.
And that scares her, because it would be easier if there was nothing in common at all - perhaps, if she was just some sort of cosmic surrogate.
She wishes she could forget.
Instead, she remembers.