Prologue

Blood. Boiling. While non other but the sounds of loved ones pleading for their last chance of survival. How could I? A girl with no motive, choose to live this irrational lifestyle. But now its clear.

In order to live off the suffered and deprived ones, I, Rachel Berry, must learn that love is a destructive, injurious and distrustful weapon. A belief that is meant only for the gullible, blinded and naïve. For love is what turned me into this monster. For I once believed it myself. Forced its way into my heart, and ended up slowly but painfully killing me. And for those who have used it against me…must be punished.

I'm not crazy, I just know the difference between what's real and what's not. Question is. Am I?

Rain. Just repeating the word in my mind makes my self esteem drop. For I'm just one rain drop out of millions. Difference is, I'm invisible. I have no meaning to anyone or anything. Sure, I have a family and a friend. Honestly, none of them give a damn about me. I'm just there to fill in the spaces. I'm not a leader nor a follower, I'm an individual. For I take responsibility of my own actions. Even if it means getting grounded and locked in my room. Doesn't matter, as long as I'm alone.

My parents thought I was an odd child. Not very social with the other kids. When I was, the wrong words would slip out of my mouth. Words described as threatening, comminatory and aggressive. Or known as what my mom calls it, "dark".

Retracing these thoughts make me feel depressed, not only because I seem like an outsider, but because I never have really been accepted by anyone. So I just sit on my window sill, tracing patterns with water on the roof shingles. I like it when it rains though. It may make my energy feel low, but its as if the rain washes all my elaborate but mind consuming plans on how to end my life. Right here, right now. Rain's just one thing I'll miss though, because it never doubted me.

I trudged down the stairs, walking into the repetitive reality of my parents, acting like how I act is normal. I'm not goth if that's what you're thinking. Emo neither. I'm my own type of style. At school, they call me a hipster, which I guess is the closest description of me. I always wear holed jeans or cut off shorts along with a hoodie that fits the color of my orange locks. And I can never forget my skateboard. I got it when I was 5 and has been my access to everything. Being me is just something my parents will never understand.

As I open the side door to the house, I hear a faint call from behind me. I turn eyeing my mother standing behind my dad, who is sitting and reading the newspaper, with her hand on his shoulder.

"Have a nice day at school," she spoke, with a hint of worry hiding behind her shaking tone. For it sickens me that I, Rachel Berry, a senior, am making my parents uneasy and concerned, each breathing moment of their lives. All I can do is, sit back, and attempt to not let them down.

"Wish there were days like that in my life," I stated as I slid the door open, kicking off on my skateboard and heading towards the place, I swear was created from the debris of hell itself. High school.

Walking down these hallways give me no motivation at all for my future. Face it. I hate every subject and every skill they teach. Maybe if the teachers here were more lively and have personality then I would probably be awake to learn something. If anything, my best trait is drawing or how I like to call it sketching. Yet, no classes here, support that type of career. I'd rather make conversation with a complete stranger than sit through a period of useless crap, that will do no help what so ever in my future. If I get one.

Thank god there's Kurt. Probably the only person I kind of trust. He was a witness of when I tried jumping off a cliff of one of the mountains in the area. Living in Wyoming, it's rare you would be able to spot someone doing that with mountains at every turn. Some how he found me and ever since we were 8, he would listen to my stories, hear my complaints and not judge me. Which is why I gave him the nickname Rain.

"Rumor is, Mrs. Libby is making the her class do oral reports on how war with countries has caused damage on infrastructures," she spilled to me as I shoved my books in my locker.

"Sucks I wont be there"

I slammed my locker shut and walked past her, hearing his flats pound against the tile behind me. To answer your question, yes he is the only openly gay person at our school. He has several friends but for some reason he chooses to hang out with me. I don't wanna be an ass to him or I might lose my walking diary.

"Come on, Rachel! Your reputation is going down hill because of your actions!"

"Like I ever had a reputation"

"You're becoming known as the school drop out, even though you haven't technically dropped out. You have failed 2 classes and have C's in 4 other ones," he stated as it reminded me of something else I hated. Numbers. Just another indication of time and how much I have left.

"I don't need a damn diploma to tell me what I'm doing with my life. I already told you, I'm training to become a professional skateboarder," I technically shouted in his face, showing an expression of fear. Then instantly standing straight and lifting his head like a know it all and yes she is one. He is also a genius, but sometimes I wish that hole in his face, that yapping mouth of his, would be duck tapped and shoved into a closet. I said I kind of liked him.

"Like that will get you anywhere! Tony Hawk thought the same thing and where is he now?"

I rolled my eyes, he obviously doesn't know current events.

"Living in a mansion, probably skating on his own walls," I backfired as I entered the room of the only class I'm decent at. Criminal Justice.

Freedom. The word that makes me feel the complete opposite of wanting to jump off a cliff. Freedom symbolizes me. Being an individual. And being free is something I'm thankful for.

"Get off your lazy rears and center the room," Mrs. Sylvester commanded the class. She's one of my favorite teachers. Focused. Determined. Takes no prisoners. Something I admire her for.

"Today is the grading for the recent topic we have been on. Pat downs,"

Excluding me, majority of the people, especially guys, gave the girls dirty looks. I had forgotten how much of the guys at this school were perverts. Next, she assigns us all partners. Unfortunately I get the new guy, Finn. He's actually quite attractive compared to the others. He stands in front of me awkwardly, giving me a hint that he's not very social either. Maybe it's time I switch the roles.

"Listen bud, you're new hear, don't make me want to slap you. Hands don't interfere with the hindquarters or the chest area, or I'll make sure your duration at this school is will be a living hell."

When I finally completed my statement, his eyes wide as an owls. I see how stiff he had gotten during my speech.

"I'm just kidding!"

I playfully slap him on the arm while he gives me a audible but not a convincing laugh.

"Seriously, don't that though"

He grinned and gave a slight nod.

"Now, one of your partners has a weapon hidden somewhere on their body. The first to find their opponents weapon, gets to introduce us to our next topic and be the instructor for it."

I knew exactly where the object was and I barely moved, trying not to give its position away.

"Go!"

His hands immediately patted along each of my arm, nerves building up in me. His touch leaving a tingling sensation on my elbow.

Bingo!

He rolled up my sleeve and carefully took off the blade taped to the inside of my right arm. The blade was held high in the air, noticing we won. I let out a distinct giggle.

"How did you know where it was that quickly?" I asked with a small smile appearing on my face. Then it hit me. This weird tingle in my stomach when he tilted his head down and the light hit his dark brown hair with light brown streaks and his teeth. Which made them looking even whiter than before.

"Body Language. You slanted yourself a bit to the right and noticed how your right arm was at your side the whole time before, making you look uncomfortable."

How could I have been so unaware of that. I even kept telling myself that throughout the whole process. I glanced at the other students. Astounded to see what they were so blind to. I gave him a smirk and patted his shoulder.

"Impressive."

One thing I know for sure. I don't like to touch other people.

Cafeteria food makes it seem like the school hates us and wants to starve to death. It looks like something, someone regurgitated. I usually sit with Kurt at a table near the window. It's so I can gaze upon the mountains and envy them. Tall and indestructible. Above everything. But it can be very vulnerable. Once someone reaches the top, you can be easily knocked down.

Kurt finds my instincts very, interesting. He's a journalist for our school paper called the Libney's Peak: Libney High's greatest moments captured! For his article he usually writes down all the thoughts that I spill to him. In my point of view, every one seems to enjoy my stories. Walking pass people gossiping about it in the halls. Teachers complimenting Kurt's intentions, until Kurt recently posted that the writer was an anonymous. It's fascinating observing people trying to figure out the puzzle that lies beneath my stories. Yet, they will never fully understand them.

I hear a tray slam onto the table in front of me, pulling me out of my trance.

"They love it, people are getting a kick out of the Libney's Peak more than ever, and it's all thanks to you," saying each word with a tad too much enthusiasm.

"Keep your voice down, you really got a mouth on you. And that mouth just might ruin my invisibility."

He gave me a confused look as she tilted his head.

"Why do you try to hide yourself all the time? You are the most creative person I know and would it be that bad giving you the credit you deserve in the paper?"

Me. Credit. Recognition. Popularity. No thanks.

"I'd rather stay anonymous, and I still don't understand why you get my stories when you have a brain of your own to create them yourself."

He scoffed at my statement.

"I know I'm able to do it on my own. I'm just tired if you thinking of yourself as nothing but a skateboarder and a girl with an obsession with the Killers. I just want you to see how creative you-"

"I'm gonna stop you right there," I interrupted.

" No one, especially you, needs to be telling me what I'm doing with my life. I get it. I am legit at explaining physical features. That's all that's truly behind my stories," I confessed while lifting my Avenged Sevenfold book bag over my shoulder.

I received no response and darted out of the cafeteria. Right before I entered the 2 doors to the hallway, a slippery, slimy and revolting surprise crashed into the top of my forehead and down to my stomach. I removed the substance dripping around my eyes and revealed the person, guilty of giving me this nauseating facial. My face immediately flushed with embarrassment. Finn. My eyes extended as I looked into his deep hazel eyes filled with guilt.

"I am so sorry Rachel!"

I barely heard him as I scurried to the girls bathroom, trying to face the fact that real tears escaped my eyes. I entered hoping students have fled this bathroom and left it vacant for me. Immediately, I slipped the shirt over my head, leaving me in my tank top. Even more tears ran down my cheek as I tried rinsing the gooey soup from my shirt. Finally, I tried drying it off, but it was no use. I threw it in the corner of the room and glared at myself in the mirror. This wasn't me. I never cry or show feeling. I guess it's because I was noticed, but the way I intended.

My new fanfic and every chapter will be longer than this. And i will post a new chapter up to 3 times a week. I hope you will enjoy! Please Review.