(Quinn's point of view)

We walked out of the flooded plains in absolute silence.

I dreaded speaking to her because eventually, I would have to offer her a reason for my behavior earlier.

I sighed inwardly as I gripped my broken Ipod.

Was she judging me for my behavior earlier? I got nervous. I didn't know what to think. She witnessed my breakdown. How do I prepare to defend myself, I thought. How will I explain to her that this journey was the reason why I wailed like that? I couldn't. She wouldn't care to understand either, would she? In an effort to dodge any questions, I threw my hood up to cover my face. That should buy me some time. We finally got to the bus stop for college hall.

The sky was darker than I expected. I checked my watch, 4:55PM. The next bus was in 10 minutes. That meant 10 minutes for us to talk and clear the air.

Great.

I sighed inwardly. The first impressions are always the ones that stick.

"Hey Rachel." I began.

She shivered involuntarily. I would have too if I was only wearing a tank top and some black cut off shorts under a Spring Jacket. I hope she had on underwear at least.

I tried not to judge her, but I failed miserably.

I didn't realize until then that she didn't even have shoes on. Was she that drunk? I was still taking in her appearance when a black SUV decided to hit the gas. Its tires went straight through the deepest puddle on George Street, and just like that, I was soaked from head to toe.

That seemed to make Rachel smile a half smile, something she looked like she hadn't done in awhile. I too smiled as my teeth began to chatter. What is her story?

…..

We finally made it back to my dorm. No one came back for the weekend yet, so we had the floor to ourselves.

She hadn't said much besides her name, so I figured once we were warm, we could chat more.

I wiggled out of my pants, and randomly, Rachel charged me. She took me off guard. I never knew when I hit the ground, I just felt her pin me down.

"RACHEL, WHAT THE HECK IS WRONG WITH YOU? LET ME GO!" I screamed.

She tightened her grip. If she looped my arm any tighter, she could have broken my arm.

My fight or flight kicked in. With all the energy I had, I overthrew her, and pinned her down.

She grabbed my arm and flipped me on my back for the second time in 3 minutes. What was this girl, ARMY? I was short on breath when she hit my pressure point. We made eye contact, and what I saw tore me from my core.

The moment froze, and the lights in my room seemed blurry.

She wasn't drunk; she had a relapse in time. Her haunted expression registered to be blank. She didn't know what was going on because she didn't seem to be "present." I cried out "please" when I felt my arm bend back, and all of a sudden, she released my arm.

Worried and confused, she looked around, found the coat I gave her, and ran for the door. Before she could run, I caught her leg. Panicked, she kicked me in the face. I swore I was going to have a concussion.

"Wait, don't go. I promise, I won't call the Police." I screamed horse. She looked down at me with the most frightened look on her face. In an instant, that look disappeared, and so did my strength. She kicked me in the ribs and managed to escape.

I curled over in a ball as she took off.

Where was she going? Without thinking, I got up quick, and raced to the window.

As I expected, she burst through the door to the courtyard.

"RACHEL, DON'T GO!" I screamed.

She ran faster, and pretty soon, my screaming was in vain.

Finally, when the fog prevented me from seeing her, I collapsed against the windowsill.

What just happened? Where was she going? I didn't mean to trigger her response. I didn't even know what I did. I just took my pants off. In pure shock, I stood up and closed my window.

I had to find her.

She wasn't herself, and if she was, she might have committed suicide.

All of a sudden, it didn't matter that I was wet, and that blood was gushing from my nose.

A shower could wait, Rachel couldn't.

Her clock started ticking as soon as she set foot outside again.

Pulling out my emergency duffel bag, I grabbed a pair of my warmest sweatpants. I grabbed my phone, ID card and a box of honey buns.

This was up to me, and if I could, I would be the one to prevent someone from writing yet another obituary. With one last thing in mind, I dialed the person I knew I could count on.

"Hello?"

"Hey, can I ask a favor?" I went on. My heartbeat was louder than the voice on the other line.

"Of course. What do you need?"

"Your car. Can you meet me at school in 15?"

"Make it 10."

"I knew I could count on you." I smiled into the phone.

"That's what sisters are for." She replied.

After reminding me of her 10minute window, she hung up. I glanced at my watch, 6:38PM. One thing I loved about my sister was how reliable she was.

I sent a kiss and a quick prayer up to heaven.

Lord, help me to find her.

9 minutes later, my nose was cleaned up and her Silver Chrysler was in front of my dorm. I skipped steps, nearly tripping. I threw the duffel in the back seat, nearly hitting Brittany in the process.

"Sorry Britt." She smiled accepting my apology.

"Hey hun." Santana said as she squeezed my shoulder with one arm in a sideways hug.

"I was so worried when you called me. Your voice sounded panicked. Is everything all right?" Santana asked.

I swallowed. I hope things would be all right.

"Its Rachel. She's run away, and I have to find her."

With that short explanation, she shifted gears and asked, "where to?"

"Police station."