Let Me In

by gleekinout

A year in the life of Rachel Berry, as told through her journal as she tries to put the broken pieces of her life back together. New house, new friends, new family, and maybe even new love. Faberry friendship. Rated M for serious subject matter and Puckleberry lovin'.

4. January 15th

January 15th, 1 am

After reading the text message from Brody, I sat on my bed for what felt like hours, all of the blood drained from my body. Brody was someone I had cut out of my life after cutting my wrists. He was the reason I had tried to take my life.

Brody was someone I met during the short period of time I was a college student. I met him one night at a party I was attending with my roommate. Santana had been casually dating a frat brother over at NYU, so we ended up at one of their parties. She'd been off doing god know's what with him, and I was left sitting on the couch by myself, listening to bad music and watching young girls preparing to make bad decisions with guys they didn't know.

Brody had walked over to me, clearly trying to talk me into his bed. Me, being a young, innocent little virgin, put him in his place. I thought he'd move on to some other girl, but he ended up spending the rest of the night sitting and talking with me. I thought he wanted to be my friend.

How wrong I was.

Brody invited Santana, my best friend Kurt, and I to the frat's Halloween party, which we were all excited about. Santana and I spent weeks picking out our costumes. I had never been allowed to dress up as anything sexy back in Miami, but I wanted to look good for my first college Halloween party.

Santana ended up going as a sexy nurse in a costume that looked more like lingerie than anything else. I went as an angel, something Santana said suited me perfectly as I was as innocent and pure as an angel.

As soon as we walked in the door, Santana and Kurt both ditched me. Santana went to get a drink and find her boyfriend, while Kurt went over to find the guy from his class who he was in love with who promised he'd be at the party.

That left me once again with Brody. I'd been at multiple parties with Brody before, and we always spent the night sitting and talking. I never drank, and he didn't bother trying to hit on me because he knew I wasn't interested. That night he got me a soda (no alcohol for me) and we went to take our typical spot on the couch.

After about 30 minutes, I started feeling a little dizzy. I asked him if there was anywhere quiet we could go so I could relax for a few minutes without the music blaring in my ears. He said all the rooms would be in use now, but the basement would be empty.

I wish I had just gone home instead.

He led me down the basement, where three other frat brothers were waiting. The rest of the night is a blur. I remember waking up the next morning on a mattress in the basement of the frat house, my underwear nowhere to be found. The one strap of my dress was torn, and the halo I had been wearing the night before was bent and missing feathers.

Brody was nowhere to be found, and I knew I didn't want to see him. I was sore, like I had just run a marathon, and I felt sick. I grabbed my shoes and quietly made my way up the stairs to the main floor of the frat house. No one was there, thankfully, and I exited through the front door without any incident.

After struggling to hail a cab, I found the nearest subway station and took that back instead. I was missing my cell phone and had no idea what had happened to it. I knew what happened at the party, but I didn't want to believe it.

Santana wasn't home when I got there, which I was thankful for. I didn't want questions about where I had been or why I was just getting in now. Instead, I took a shower and broke down in tears when I saw the trail of blood on my inner thigh.

I spent most of the next week in bed as I tried to piece together that night, begging myself to remember what happened. But, as hard as I tried, I couldn't. I couldn't even remember the other three guys who had been waiting for me down in the basement.

I wouldn't talk to Santana, Kurt, or anyone else who tried. I just stayed in bed, sleeping. I think I would have been okay, if Brody hadn't emailed me the video.

About a week after the party, I got an email from Brody that had a link in it. Stupidly, I clicked on it. I only watched a few minutes before I shut my computer off. The video was of me on the mattress in the basement. The video explained why I had no underwear on that morning.

I tried killing myself that night.

I kept my eyes closed as the images from that night flooded my head. I tried everything to put that night behind me. Dr. Sue asks me about my reasons for doing what I did in therapy every session, but I can't tell her. I can't even admit to myself what really happened, because once I admit it that means it's real.

I quickly shut my phone off and threw it in my purse, not wanting to see Brody's name lit up on the screen anymore. Maybe if I ignored it, he'd leave me alone. At least I hoped so. I didn't know what he could possibly want with me now after all these months, and I knew I wasn't ready to find out.

It took me awhile to fall asleep that night, and I worried I would wake up in the middle of the night screaming like I did in the beginning. But somehow, I managed to get a few hours of sleep, which wasn't easy when Brody's smug face kept creeping into my head.

Sunday morning, I woke up with a splitting headache and a feeling as though I hadn't gotten any sleep. Sunday was cleaning day at the Schuester household, so despite having bags under my eyes, I was assigned bathroom cleaning as my chore for the day. It wasn't too bad, honestly. I put my headphones in, listened to my music, and cleaned. It helped keep all thoughts about Brody out of my mind, which was proving very difficult after his text.

Quinn and I traded texts throughout the day, chatting about how our days were going. She was hanging out with her sister all day, taking down all their Christmas decorations.

After I was finished cleaning, Emma was kind enough to let me go up to my room for awhile until dinner was ready, for which I was grateful. I walked into the room and looked around, debating what to do. I looked at the ancient computer on my desk and powered it up. If anything, I could watch Netflix on there for the rest of the day.

I had warmed up to Whitefish, but I was incredibly bored there most of the time. Back in Miami and New York, I had a whole group of friends I used to go out and do things with. I also had a dance studio I would go to and just spend all day practicing. I think if there was a dance studio here, it would be better. But there wasn't, so I was left to sitting in my room all day when Quinn was busy.

I knew I needed to find other friends beside her, but I wasn't ready to open up to anyone else.

I browsed around on my computer for awhile before navigating to Facebook, looking at the log-in screen. I had told Quinn I just decided I didn't want to use Facebook anymore, but of course that was a small lie.

After I was discharged from the hospital and went back to Miami, I made the mistake of logging onto Facebook one day to see what everyone from school was doing. That had been a mistake.

Instead of statuses and pictures from friends, I found my inbox to be full, all messages from Brody. He claimed he was just "checking in to see how I was doing", but I knew that was a lie. He wanted to see what I remembered from that night. Just seeing his name and picture on my computer screen was enough to cause me to completely break down.

After another short hospital stay in Miami, I decided staying in contact with college acquaintances wasn't worth the risk of having Brody send me messages daily, so I deleted my Facebook.

I hadn't even missed it to be perfectly honest. Facebook had always been a waste of my time, to be perfectly honest. I was never on it much to start with, and now I didn't have to see pictures of my old friends having a blast at college while I was stuck at home being babysat by my father.

With a sigh, I logged back in, reactivating my Facebook. I was only doing this for Quinn if I was being truthful with myself. Since I hadn't had my profile active in months, I didn't have any notifications (thankfully). I looked at my profile picture, a frown on my face. It was a picture of me with my roommate, Santana. Kurt had taken it of us the night of the party, both of us grinning in our costumes.

I turned away, not wanting to look at it any longer. I didn't want to remember that night as long as I lived, which was so hard to do when everything was reminding me of it. I quickly changed the picture to an old one of me from high school. It had been taken the spring of my senior year right after the senior talent show (which Kurt and I won). I was standing with my dad and Aunt April, a huge smile on my face.

I stared at the picture, wishing I could go back to that time. My life was simpler then. I had friends, a family who trusted me, and my whole life ahead of me. I was going to my dream school where I was going to follow my dream so I could become a famous dancer.

Unfortunately, none of that had worked out. I was trapped in a boring town living with family I couldn't stand, and I didn't even have dance to take my mind off it.

I searched Quinn's name on Facebook and easily found her page, especially since Jesse was a mutual friend of ours on the site. Her page was private so all I could see was her picture. She was sitting outside somewhere that looked very warm next to an older blonde woman who looked a lot like her. That must be her sister. Both of them were smiling and looking generally happy.

Quinn always appeared to be so happy and full of life. She hadn't really told me why she was in our group (though I hadn't revealed everything to her, either). She just didn't seem like the type of person who needed to be in a group like ours.

I clicked the request button before navigating back to the home page of Facebook, browsing through the new updates from my old friends. A few people were posting pictures from vacations they were on, another was announcing her new relationship with someone.

Kurt's name popped up. He had posted a new album of him and Santana in Miami, enjoying their winter break from school. I instantly felt a sense of guilt. Kurt and Santana had been my best friends from the time we were in elementary school. We were all neighbors, and naturally became friends overtime. Plus, it helped that we were all into the theatrical arts. Kurt's passion was acting, while Santana's was singing.

We had never gone a single day without talking to one another, yet I was too afraid to pick up my phone and even send them a text to let them know I was at least okay. They probably thought I hated them.

I didn't.

I missed them terribly. I wanted to reach out, to tell them everything, but I couldn't. I wasn't ready to do that yet. So I just scrolled past the pictures, not wanting to see them enjoying life without me. I wondered if they had even asked my dad about me. Probably not.

Sunday night dinner was pretty uneventful. Jesse sulked at the table like usual, and Emma tried to draw me into conversation without any luck. She mentioned how much she had liked Quinn. I just gave her a slight nod. I knew Emma was trying to develop a relationship with me, but I didn't want the same. I just wanted her to leave me alone.

After dinner, Emma thankfully let me go upstairs to my room instead of forcing me to watch some silly movie with her and Will. I used the time to listen to my iPod, lying on my bed as I continued to trade texts with Quinn. She seemed really excited about the party on Friday. I couldn't say I really shared in her enthusiasm, but I tried not to let that show.

Eventually, I fell asleep after promising Quinn I would call her after my therapy session so we could do something.

Monday meant I got to meet with Dr. Sue again. If I was smart, I would have shared with her my worries about Brody texting me after all this time. I hadn't bothered to respond to him (why would I?) but I was concerned about him suddenly trying to get into my life. What could he possibly want from me now? I hadn't told a single person about what had happened. Did he think I was going to open my mouth now? Or had he heard about my suicide attempt.

Brody's text was making it very difficult for me to sleep because his face kept appearing in my mind. Clearly, I needed to talk to someone, I just knew that person wasn't Dr. Sue.

Like usual, I spent our entire session in silence. Dr. Sue had stopped trying to pressure me into saying something. She always started the session saying we would talk about what I wanted to. Since I had no desire to talk about anything with her, we spent the hour in silence. Af the end, she stated she would see me again on Wednesday, and I left her office.

I knew I was wasting my dad's money by not actually using the therapy sessions with Dr. Sue, but I wasn't ready to talk about anything, especially not with a stranger.

Jesse was sitting in the waiting area when I walked out, typing something on his phone. He looked up when I approached him, a smile on his face. "Ready?" he asked.

I nodded my head, and we made our way back to the car. I climbed in the passenger side as Jesse turned the engine over and the truck roared to life. I stared out the window for the entire ride back to Whitefish, not saying a word. Jesse eventually turned onto our street, pulling the car into the driveway.

Quinn ended up having to help her sister and husband out with something all day, meaning I was left to myself. With nothing else to do, I finished Oliver Twist by dinner time. After eating, I decided to give my dad and Aunt April another call. Unfortunately, they weren't home, leaving me once again to spend the time by myself.

Not ready to start another book, I laid on my bed, staring up at the ceiling. All this alone time was making me realize I needed to find at least a few other friends besides Quinn. I couldn't expect her to spend every waking minute hanging out with or texting me.

There was a knock and I turned to look at my empty doorframe. Jesse was standing there, a glass of water in his hand.

"You okay?" he asked, his left eyebrow arched. "You look a little bored."

I sat up, nodding my head at him. Jesse took a seat on the bed next to me. "I guess I am. I went from living in a city to...living here," I admitted. "It's hard to go from somewhere that's been my home to a place where I know no one."

"I thought you were friends with Quinn."

"I am, but that's it. When you only have one friend, you're kind of screwed when they're busy," I sighed. "I think I'd be okay if Whitefish at least had a dance studio, but apparently you guys are lacking."

"Dance studio?" Jesse asked. "Why would you care if there was a dance studio here?"

I rolled my eyes at him. Jesse and I were practically family, yet we barely knew anything about one another. He didn't know anything about my love for dance, and I honestly had no idea what he liked to do. I made a promise to myself to start getting to know Jesse better. He was they only kind of sibling I had, after all.

"Dance has always been my life," I explained. "My dad had me in dance lessons for almost my entire life. When I was in school in New York, that's what I was studying. It was amazing, all of my classes took place in a dane studio. It was my version of heaven, really."

"So why'd you go all crazy and try to off yourself, then?" Jesse asked. I flinched at his wording. I knew he wasn't trying to be cruel, but his words hurt.

"Something bad happened, and I wasn't in heaven anymore," I said quietly, my voice indicating that the conversation was over.

"Oh," Jesse said, letting the conversation fall flat. "Well, we might not have a dance studio, but we do have the annual Founder's Day ball."

"What's that?" I asked.

"It's a whole weekend to celebrate the founding of Whitefish. It's in April every year. There's a huge carnival and a ball with lots of dancing. Everyone in town goes. Maybe you could show off your dancing there."

I smiled at Jesse. "Yeah, maybe."

"Well, I should head to bed. Night, Rachel." Jesse paused for a moment before leaning over and giving me an awkward hug. I watched him walk out of the room before falling back onto my bed, starring at the ceiling once again.

I ended up picking up some kind of stomach virus and, thankfully, was allowed to skip both the pointless support group and therapy with Dr. Sue for the next few days. I probably could have gone, but Emma was also trying to improve our relationship. She let me take over the living room, watching whatever I wanted on TV even though Daddy had given her strict orders not to let me do anything like that.

Emma even took off work, driving all the way to Kalispell to get me a bread bowl from Panera Bread. Maybe she wasn't half bad.

We spent all of Tuesday Wednesday, and Thursday alternating between My 600lb Life, Say Yes to the Dress, and 90 Day Fiancee, all on TLC. It turns out, I got my reality show addiction from Emma. Back in Miami, I would have to go over to Kurt's house to watch The Bachelor since Daddy and Aunt April both agreed it was the epitome of trash TV. By Thursday afternoon, Emma and I were comparing our favorite shows with one another. Maybe she wasn't as bad as she seemed.

Friday, since I was feeling better, I was allowed to go back to both Dr. Sue and group.

The appointment with Dr. Sue was a waste of time, as usual. I think it's irritating her that I don't talk to her. When I walk into her office, she has a look on her face that I guess is a cross between annoyance and frustration. I know she can't help me if I don't talk, but I don't want or need help from someone like her.

After the appointment, Jesse dropped me off at group, turning the radio down as I climbed out of his truck.

"So, what time do you want me to pick you up?" he asked.

I shook my head. "You don't need to pick me up today. I'm going to a party at one of the other group member's houses after, Quinn said she'd give me a ride there and back home tonight. Emma already knows," I promised.

"Yeah yeah," Jesse said with a laugh. "Have fun, okay? And tell Quinn I said hello." With that, I shut the car door and Jesse drove away.

I turned and walked into the church, finding the room almost full with most of the group members. I recognized almost all the faces, yet I couldn't recall anyone's name except for Quinn's. She had saved me a seat next to her and waved at me when I walked in.

I took a seat next to her, pulling my jacket off before putting my bag on the ground between my feet. Since Quinn had insisted we go to this party after group, I decided to dress up a little. I had on a pair of skinny jeans with a few tears in them, paired with a pink lace blouse. I decided to forgo the snow boots and went with a pair of tan UGGs instead. They may not have been waterproof, but they were comfy and warm.

Artie wheeled in about thirty seconds after I sat down. "Hey gang, good to see you all again. Rachel!" he said, smiling at me. "Good to see you again. I was afraid we'd scared you away when I didn't see you on Tuesday."

I shook my head, a small smile on my face. It was nice to know they'd actually noticed I wasn't there. "No, I just had a little stomach bug and doubted everyone here wanted it as well."

Artie laughed. "Fair enough. Well, we're glad to have you back." He turned, facing the group. "So, why don't we dive right in where we left off. Quinn, you were telling us about your PTSD and how it's changed your life."

Quinn nodded her head. "Yeah, like I was saying before, my parents realized something was wrong with me my sophomore year of high school. They thought I was doing okay, but that was because I kept everything hidden from them. I had lost all my friends by that point, but as far as they knew, I was spending every Friday night at my best friend Lucy's house. Instead, I was going to the park and spending all night there instead. At first I just went to have somewhere to go without having my parents watching every move I made. Then I met Corey. He was a senior who practically lived at the park, and after seeing me hanging out there for a few weeks, he starting sharing some of his pot with me. It helped me calm down enough that I was able to act normal around everyone.

"Turns out, Corey was a dealer, and soon he was my dealer. At first, it was just smoking pot in the park to take the edge off. Then, I started buying Ambien to help me sleep at night. Eventually, I was snorting lines of cocaine in the bathroom at school in between classes just to get through the day, and sleeping with Corey at night to afford the habit I couldn't admit I had. I was so strung out all the time. My grades were suffering and I spent all my time either with Corey at the park or hanging out with the other junkies while I was at school. The worst part was, the whole reason I started using was to help cope with my PTSD, but the drugs were just making it worse. I could barely make it through the day without freaking out over nothing.

"I was on a fast track to an early grave. If I continued the way I was going, I was going to overdose. Thankfully, however, I got busted. Some cop pulled me over and found a few ounces of pot on me. He arrested me, and that seemed to wake everyone in my family up. My parents, amazingly, didn't kick me out. Instead, they pulled me out of school and got me the help I needed. They enrolled me in therapy, after I completed an inpatient drug rehab and detox program. They also realized I had more problems than just using drugs. I finally got the help I really needed, and I've been managing my PTSD great ever since."

Everyone, including me, applauded as she finished her story. She didn't go into what had caused her PTSD, and that was something she still had yet to share with me. However, to be fair, I hadn't shared what caused my suicide attempt with her, either.

"It always helps to have a support system when you're struggling," Artie said as he nodded his head.

"It did help to have them there supporting me," Quinn agreed. "Without them, I shudder to think what would have happened to me. Anyways, they moved to Missoula last year, after making sure I was going to be okay without them, of course. Plus, the fact that I was going to move in with my sister helped reassure them as well. I think they just wanted to make sure someone would be watching me in case I was temped to relapse. Which I haven't been," she added quickly.

"That's excellent to hear, Quinn," Artie said, and the group applauded again, me joining them. It was interesting hearing Quinn's story, and I hoped one day I would have her courage and be able to share my story with everyone here in group. After all, they were the people probably least likely to judge me.

"Does anyone have anything to add to that?" Artie asked after a few moments. Mike put his hand up and Artie nodded his head in Mike's direction. "Mike?"

"I totally get the whole self-medicating thing. I used to be a big supporter of that, as everyone here knows." There were a few chuckles at his response. "But I understand what you mean about having a support system and how important that is. I could have never gotten clean on my own, because I couldn't even admit I had a problem. Without my cousin, I guarantee I'd be dead from all the drugs I was putting into my body."

"Thank you for that, Mike," Artie said, looking around the group. "Anyone else?"

Everyone stayed silent, all of our eyes on Artie as he kept looking around the group.

"Okay then, let's move on. Since we brought up a support system, who wants to talk about their support system or lack of one?"

I thought about what Artie was saying, about having a support system. He was right about the importance of having at least one person there to support you. After all, without my dad, my aunt, and even Emma, I wouldn't have been sitting there listening to everyone share their stories. I wouldn't be going to a party after group. I wouldn't be sitting in a therapist's office and refusing to speak three times a week.

I looked across the group and saw Brittany Pierce, the other new girl during my first group, raise her hand.

"Brittany!" Artie called as his eyes lit up a little.

"I lost my whole support system after I was diagnosed. It sucks, in case anyone was wondering. Imagine being diagnosed with a life-changing disease that will eventually kill you, and having no one there to help you out. Then, on top of that, losing your job, your healthcare, essentially your whole life. I had to go through all of that alone. I had my grandmother at first, but after she died, I was left with no one. Then, on top of all that, moving somewhere new where you don't know a single person. I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy."

Everyone was silent after Brittany's story. No one really knew how to respond to what she had said. I may have felt like I was alone after I tried killing myself, but the truth was I wasn't. My dad desperately tried to help, I just didn't want it. He did everything he could to get me help, including sending me to Montana to stay with Emma. I may not have liked his decision, but he thought it was what was best for me and my health. And, if I was being honest with myself, he was right.

I tentatively put a hand in the air. Artie arched an eyebrow at me and nodded his head. "Yes, Rachel?"

I glanced around for a moment and realized I had the complete attention of everyone in the group. Quinn was looking at me with her head cocked curiously to the side, and even the asshole Puck who had yelled at me last time appeared to be paying attention. I couldn't blame them for being curious, it was my first time speaking in group, after all.

"I think a support group or even a support person is important to have. They're the one person looking out for your best interests, even if you don't agree with the actions they take. After I tried killing myself, my dad pulled me out of school and moved me back home. He tried to get me to talk to him but I wouldn't let him in. He tried to get me to go to therapy and I refused to go. He tried everything he could to help me, but I just kept pushing him away. So he sent me here to live with Emma because he knew it was the only way I was going to get the help I needed." I took a deep breath and told myself not to cry in front of everyone. "I said some really mean things about him when he made me leave Miami, but I've come to realize it was the best thing he could have done for me. For the first time, I'm actually getting help."

Quinn smiled at me and gave me a thumbs up.

"Well, getting help is always important. Is there anything else you'd like to add, Rachel?" Artie asked, giving me a piercing look. Both he and Dr. Sue were very clear that the only way I would truly get any kind of help was if I let people in and told them the whole story. But I wasn't ready for that, not yet.

I shook my head. "Not today, Artie."

Artie nodded his head, understanding what I wasn't saying aloud. He moved on, talking more about support systems. He focused back on Brittany and said that she may not feel as though she has a support system, but the group could be just that for her.

Artie ended the group session with a reminder that if anyone ever felt as if they needed help and had no one to talk to, he was always available to talk to without ay kind of judgment. I made a mental note to ask Artie for help only if I had literally nowhere else to turn.

Quinn walked over to me and hooked her arm into mine. "Look at that, you managed to talk for almost 30 seconds," she teased, leading me away from the group and towards the parking lot. "It's progress," she added. "Soon you'll be sharing stories that last a full minute." She laughed as she pushed open the doors and we were outside in the cold once again.

"So, do I really have to go to this party?" I asked, wondering if there was still some way I could get out of this. I had moved on to a new book and would have much preferred to spend the night at home reading that instead of sitting by myself at a stranger's house watching everyone else have fun. It was giving me anxiety just thinking about being at a party.

"Yes, you promised!" Quinn said, unlocking the door to her car. We both climbed in as she turned the engine over and the car roared to life. She turned the heat on full blast as we idled in the parking lot, waiting for the inside of the car to warm up a bit before driving away. "Besides, it's going to be fun. It's not your typical party of people getting drunk and hooking up. We don't have any alcohol for obvious reasons. We just eat junk food and watch movies. Puck said this week he was planning on doing a Marvel marathon."

"You didn't say it was at that jerk Puck's place," I groaned, dreading going even more. For some reason, he didn't like me, and I wasn't about to force myself to be in his company any more than necessary.

"Puck's not that bad," Quinn reasoned as she backed the truck out of her spot and headed down he road. "Besides, he asked me to invite you."

"He did?" I asked curiously.

"Yeah," she said. "He said he wanted you to feel welcome. I think he felt bad about jumping down your throat after your first group. We're all just a big group of friends, Rach. We want you to be one of our friends, too. I know Mike invited Brittany, but she said she was busy. I think she just didn't want to come. You heard her, she has no friends or family. She can't have any real plans."

I shrugged my shoulders and stared out the window. The text from Brody had made me want to go to this party even less. What if something bad happened here like it did at the frat party? I looked over at Quinn and wanted to tell her how anxious I was feeling, how afraid I was, but I couldn't. I just couldn't open up and let her in, not yet.

Quinn turned the truck down a road and pulled into a short driveway. She put the truck into park and turned the engine off before turning to me. "You ready?" she asked.

I gave her a weak smile. "As ready as I'm going to be, I guess. Let's just get this over with," I half-joked. I pushed the car door open and climbed out of the cab of the truck and back into the cold Montana air. A chilly gust of wind blew through my hair, sending a shiver down my spine.

Quinn and I crunched through the melting snow up the driveway of Puck's house. I wrapped my arms around my middle, trying to work up the nerve to walk inside and interact with a group of people who I had nothing in common with besides having a completely fucked up life.

The door opened before we even reached the landing and Puck was there, his he'd turned to the left as he yelled back into the house. "And if you add Iron Man 3 to the list I'm removing you as my best friend!" He turned and came to a quick stop when he saw Quinn and I standing on the front porch. "Q!" he said, throwing an arm around Quinn and pulling her into a tight hug. "Glad to see you. Excellent share today," he said, letting her go and stepping back. "Miami, glad you could make it," he said quickly. "Well, mi casa es su casa. Come on in, ladies. Mike's setting out the food. Merci and Sugar are in the living room fighting over what Marvel flick we're going to start the marathon with."

Puck gave us a nod before heading into the kitchen, yelling at Mike again.

I turned to Quinn, feeling very out of place. "I don't know if I can do this, Quinn. I told you before, parties really aren't my scene."

"And I told you, Rach, this isn't your typical party. You heard Puck, we're going to eat some snacks and watch a bunch of Marvel movies. No booze, no drugs, no bad decisions. I promise."

Reluctantly, I followed her into the house and made my way into the living room. Two girls from group, Mercedes Jones and Sugar Motta, were sitting on the floor, arguing over who was the hottest actor in the Marvel universe.

"Chris Evans, for sure," Sugar said determinately.

"Girl, are you crazy? Chris Hemsworth has him beat by a mile."

"How can you say no to Captain America?"

"Thor would kick his tiny ass," Mercedes said as the two girls started laughing.

"Hey girls," Quinn said, flopping onto one of the couches.

"Q!" they both said, grinning up at Quinn. I stayed standing in the doorway, still feeling as though I didn't belong. Quinn was really the only person I knew from group. I still hadn't learned everyone's names yet.

"Oh hey, this is Rachel," Quinn said, beckoning me over. I quietly walked over and took a seat next to Quinn, smiling at the other two girls. "Rachel, this is Mercedes and Sugar."

Sugar looked to be in her early twenties. She was petite with light brown hair and a tan complexion. Her hair was straight and fell halfway down her back with streaks of red intermixed with the brown. She had her makeup done in a way that enhanced her natural features without making her look like she had too much caked on her face. She had a pair of jeans on with a simple long-sleeved white shirt. Like everyone in Montana, she had a pair of boots on her feet. She was beautiful except for the long, raised scar she had on the left side of her face. It stared at the corner of her eye and ran all the way down her face and neck. Unfortunately, it was her most noticeable feature.

Mercedes looked as though she was only a year or two older than I was. She was a heavy-set black girl with short, curly hair. She was wearing no makeup and had her hair pulled back with a blue hairband. She was wearing leggings underneath a yellow dress with short, black boots on her feet. She gave me a warm smile and a quick wave. "Nice to meet you, Rachel. Glad to have a new member to our group of outcasts."

"Outcasts?" I asked.

"Oh sure," Sugar added. "We're not exactly the most welcome people here in Whitefish. Why do you think we have these parties every week?" I tried looking away, but my eyes seemed to keep going back to the scar on her face. I knew it was rude to stare, but I just couldn't help it. To my surprise, Sugar smiled at me. "It's okay, you can ask about my scar," she said.

"I'm sorry," I apologized, embarrassed.

"Don't worry about it, everyone stares. How can they not, right? This lovely facial feature is courtesy of my father. I got knocked up when I was sixteen, and his solution to that problem was to try and kill me. He's in jail for that, and the rest of my family hasn't spoken to me since he was sentenced. Mercedes, Quinn, and the rest of these guys are my family now," she said. My face softened as she finished her story. "But really, don't feel sorry for me. They're the best family anyone could ask for."

"And now you're part of that family, Rachel," Quinn added with a smile.

The front door opened and a few other people I briefly recognized by sight emerged from the cold and into the small foyer of Puck's house. There was a tall guy with dreadlocks who had his arm linked with a petite blonde and a tall, heavyset guy who followed closely behind. There didn't seem to be anyone else coming, because Puck locked the for after they were inside.

The three who had just entered took off their coats before joining us all in the living room. After about thirty seconds, Mike and Puck walked in, their arms filled with snacks. "Okay, as was decided last week, we're doing a Marvel marathon tonight." His response was met with a few cheers and one boo. Puck looked over at the blonde who had recently walked in and rolled his eyes. "You were outvoted last time, Kitty, so suck it up. As the hosts, Mike and I have decided on starting with the original Marvel movie, Iron Man.

"As per usual, water and sodas are in the fridge, bathrooms are down the hall, and everyone enjoy themselves."

The lights were shut off as the TV turned on and the movie started.

I had never seen a single Marvel movie in my life and I wasn't really all that excited about spending all night watching superhero movies. I debated texting Jesse and asking him to pick me up but my thoughts were interrupted when the weight on the couch shifted and I saw Puck had taken a seat next to me.

I glanced over at him and was shocked to see he was looking at me, and that he had a smile on his face. "Rachel, right?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "From Miami?"

"Why?" I whispered back. "Come to yell at me about something else?"

Puck let out a sigh. "I admit it, I deserved that. I was a jerk to you last time, and I'm sorry. It was totally uncalled for. What do you say we start over?" He extended his hand towards me. I looked at him for a few seconds before, reluctantly, I reached out and took his hand. "Hi, I'm Noah Puckerman but please don't call me Noah. I go by Puck. I'm 22, single, and a college drop out. When I was nineteen, my brother and his girlfriend successfully completed a suicide pact, and I've been completely fucked up ever since."

"It's nice to meet you, Noah," I said, giving him a defiant look. I didn't care if he wanted to be called Puck, I was going to call him Noah.

"You know, normally I would kick someone's ass for calling me that," he joked, giving me another smile. "Well, what about you?"

I thought about his question for a moment before I answered. "I'm Rachel Berry, 18-years-old and also a college drop out. I grew up with a single dad in Miami and I miss him terribly. A few months ago I tried ending my life and it kills me every day that I didn't succeed," I whispered, my voice breaking at the end.

Puck frowned a little at my statement. "That shouldn't make you unhappy. You should want to be alive. You have so much to live for, Rachel."

I gave him an annoyed look. Who was he to lecture me, to make assumptions about how good my life was? He had no idea what I'd been through, what I'd survived. He didn't have the images of that night burned into his mind, he didn't wake up screaming for two months straight from nightmares. He'd never been so desperate to escape everything that he'd run a razor across his wrists to stop the pain.

"Wait, I'm sorry," he said, looking at my expression. "I had no right to say that. You obviously don't feel that way. I don't know what you've been through and what brought you to that point. I have a problem with assuming things. And anger," he admitted. "But, if you're struggling, talking about it in..."

"If another person tells me talking about my feelings and letting people in is going to help, I'm going to lose my mind," I snapped, causing the guy in the dreadlocks to shush me. "Sorry," I whispered. "This really isn't the right place to talk, you know," I said, hoping he'd get the hint and leave me alone.

Puck pursed his lips and seemed to think it over before falling silent and turning his attention to the movie.

It wasn't that I disliked Puck. I didn't know him, and had no desire to start anytime soon. My experience with guys was limited, and after everything that happened in New York with Brody, I was not anxious to gain any more experience. I had Quinn, I didn't need any other friends.

But that wasn't entirely true. Back in Miami I had two best friends named Kurt Hummel and Santana Lopez. We were all in the same second-grade class, and had been friends ever since. We stayed friends through high school and made a pact that we would all go to college in the same city, which is how I ended up in New York City. I missed having a close group of friends.

Out of the corner of my eye, I kept glancing over at Puck during the movie. He didn't seem to be giving me a second thought and appeared to be completely engrossed in the movie. I thought over his suggestion of talking about my problems.

I definitely was not about to talk about things with Dr. Sue. As far as I was concerned, she was the enemy. And I knew I wasn't ready to talk about my whole ordeal in group, especially when most of the people there were still strangers to me.

But a friend, maybe one day I could talk about it with them.

I was so absorbed in my thoughts that I didn't realize we had already finished one movie and moved on to the next. Quinn nudged my leg and pointed at the clock, indicating that it was almost ten at night.

Emma was going to kill me.

I nodded at her and rose to my feet, heading towards the door to grab my shoes and coat. Puck followed behind us while everyone else was busy watching the movie.

"You guys have to leave?" he asked, a note of disappointment in his voice.

"If I don't leave now, Emma's going to send out a search party for me. She still hasn't gotten around to trusting me too much," I said with a shrug. "Strict curfew and all that jazz. Thanks for having me though. This was fun, I guess."

Quinn rolled her eyes at me. "Nice, Rachel," she said sarcastically. "I had a great time as always, Puck," she said, standing on her tiptoes to give him a hug.

Puck turned to me and I instinctively pulled away, not wanting any man to get that close to me. He looked over me, not quite sure what to make of me or my apparent rudeness. "I hope you come back, Rachel. We could all be your friends if you would just let us. And, again, I'm sorry about earlier." He handed me a torn piece of paper with messy writing on it. "I meant what I said before about talking about things. Even if you're not ready to open up in group, I'm always here if you need a friend."

"Thanks," I murmured, giving him a quick wave before Quinn and I walked out the door and into the cold. Quinn unlocked her truck and the two of us headed back to my house. If I was being honest with myself, I actually had fun at Puck's house. It had been a long time since I'd been around other people my age in a social setting without someone watching my every move.

Quinn dropped me off at home and promised to call me the next day. Thankfully, everyone was already asleep when I got inside, which meant Emma wasn't awake to yell at me for being out late. Hopefully, she'd be so happy that I was out making friends that she wouldn't be mad about me being out late.

I looked at the slip of paper Puck had given me as I settled into bed. I promised myself I would call him...only if I had no one else there to talk to.