Glee 1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

**I do not own Glee just Elizaveta Andronikov. Also, I do not own the songs "Livin' on a Prayer" or "My Heart Will Go On". Yes, there is an original character in this story, but I promise you she will be productive and NOT a Mary Sue. Reviews are greatly appreciated :)**

I fumbled with the dial of my locker as students rushed past me. Just as I approached the final number, I shoved the metal up, but the door didn't swing open.

_ Great._

Frustrated, I glanced down at my phone. 7:33. I referenced my new schedule and sighed. The warning bell would ring any second.

_Beep. Of course. Right on time._

I adjusted my khaki messenger bag on my shoulder and ran my finger down the classes to see who my homeroom was.

_Mr. Schuester. Room 213._

I fell into the river of streaming students heading to their classrooms. Following the increasing room numbers, I eventually found myself in front of his door.

_Just relax. Everyone's nervous on their first day._

Taking a deep breath, I entered the classroom with a timid shuffle. The classroom was filled with chattering students, throwing paper airplanes and typing away on their phones. As though they sensed fresh meat, the classroom of juniors suddenly all looked up at me with skeptical eyes.

I gently brushed back my auburn waves and walked over to the teacher's desk. A man with curly brown hair sat behind it and rose at the sight of me.

He smiled warmly. "I'm guessing you're the new student. Elizaveta Andronikov, right? I'm Mr. Schuester. I'll be your homeroom teacher." He held out his hand.

I stared at it curiously. _Was this some weird American greeting?_

Noticing my confusion, he retracted his hand. Without questioning further, Mr. Schuester turned to the class with a wide grin. "Guys, this is our new student Elizaveta Andronikov. She's originally from Russia so let's give her a warm welcome. I trust that all of you will help her get around the school if she needs help." Then he glanced back at me. "Why don't you take a seat, Elizaveta?"

I nodded. Scanning the room, I could tell this school had some interesting characters. I sighed, taking a seat next to some boy swaying in his chair with bloodshot eyes. I could only assume he was drunk.

_Today was going to be an interesting day…_

* * *

Of course no one helped me throughout the day. That was way too much to ask for. I got lost twice and spent lunch at a table by myself, reading a book. If that wasn't bad enough, I missed my bus when I accidently left my bag in Mrs. Young's room.

Since I had to wait for my uncle to pick me up anyway, I decided to roam the halls of the school to get to know it better. I grazed my hands along the displays of trophies along the walls. A lot of them were inscribed to something called the "Cheerios". Shrugging, I kept on with my own little tour of the school.

About halfway down one of the hallways, I heard a faint sound of laughter. Curious what it could lead to, I followed it. I soon reached a large classroom with the door slightly ajar. I peered inside to see a bunch of students crowded around the piano rocking out to "Livin' on a Prayer". A short girl with dark brown hair and conservative clothes glided around the room, belting out the notes of the song. Her eyes were glued to a tall guy who also had dark brown hair as he sang the male part. I leaned against the wall, sighing. She clearly liked the boy, yet he paid her no attention. Was he really that oblivious? Squinting my eyes, I soon recognized the teacher that sat in the colored chairs. He was my homeroom teacher.

_Mr... oh what was his name…Mr. Schuller? No. Mr. Schneider? No. Mr. Schuester? Yes, that was it!_

All of a sudden, a vibration rippled through my pocket. My uncle was here to pick me up from school.

I tore myself away from the entertaining scene and headed out into the frigid November air. I pulled on my black knit hat and walked quickly over to the pick-up truck waiting in the parking lot. Shivering, I hopped into the car, setting my book bag on the floor in front of me.

"So how was your first day?" my uncle David asked, before starting the engine.

I was dying to tell him how my new school was a damn joke, and how I'd rather go back to Russia and stay in the orphanage. I would do anything to get out of this hellhole called William McKinley High School. But me being me, I forced back the biting words and plastered a smile on my face.

"It was great."

* * *

The first two weeks of school were no better than the first day. I sat alone at lunch every day, and I could hear people whispering about me as I walked down the hallway. The hot stares of students made my skin crawl as I strode from class to class. This school just gave me goose bumps.

I wandered into the classroom where I found out glee club was held every day after school. I threw my bag onto a chair and sat down at the piano. By coming down twice a week to listen to them sing, I learned that the club didn't start until three. I had ten minutes before people would arrive.

I pressed my fingers onto the cool ivory sending a beautiful melody surging out of the instrument. Poising myself in perfect position, I allowed the music to carry me away.

"Every night in my dreams I see you, I feel you, that is how I know you go on. Far across the distance and spaces between us, you have come to show you go on."

My fingers floated across the keys as my breath came in and out in rhythmic patterns. I knew this song by heart; every note, every lyric, every dynamic. My body leaned and pulled along with the crashing and softening of the gorgeous sounds that exploded from my fingertips. All my frustration of the past two weeks poured out before me as I put all of my heart into my voice.

"You're here, there's nothing I fear, and I know that my heart will go on. We'll stay forev-," I sang, belting out the climax, until I sensed another presence.

My face burned with embarrassment as I removed my hands from the keys and stood up from the bench. I didn't dare turn back.

"I-I'm sorry. So sorry," I said breathlessly as I scrambled to gather up my bag and Vera Bradley lunch box.

For the first time, I spun around to see my intruder. The guy with the dark brown hair who sang "Livin' on a Prayer" was standing there, awkwardly.

"Who are you?" he questioned.

"Elizaveta Andronikov," I answered, hesitating.

"Are you new here?"

I nodded. "No one's here usually. I was just leaving. I'm so sorry," I stammered. I quickly gripped my shoulder strap to keep my hands from quivering.

He licked his lips. "I finished up in the library early today."

I nodded again, blushing profusely. I strode toward the door, keeping my head down and eyes on the floor. The sound of his voice stopped me.

"You're really good though. Have you ever thought about trying out for Glee?" he asked.

I turned around and shook my head. "I don't sing in front of people."

"There's really no difference, you know. Just imagine everyone in their underwear," he said with a small grin.

I cocked an eyebrow. _Why were Americans so strange?_

"Bye, and I'm sorry-" I began, but trailed off as he never gave me his name.

"Finn. Finn Hudson," he replied.

Clearing my throat, I nodded my head in acceptance. "Bye, Finn."

I started down the hallway, but I didn't get two steps when I heard his voice call out to me again.

"Just consider it, okay?"

I spun around, giving a fake smile. "Okay, I will."

_Four words. No. Way. In. Hell. _


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**And the drama of Glee is starting in this chapter. YAY! I don't own "You're the One That I Want". SO, anyway, I'm very pleased that I've already gotten 141 views, 2 favorites, and 4 follows on this story, but I really would like some reviews. Please guys, review! I promise I'll return the favor :)**

I pushed around the leafy green salad in my tupperware container. I was approaching my third week of school at McKinley and had yet to make at least one acquaintance. My aunt and uncle kept badgering me to invite some of my "friends" over to dinner, but I couldn't get someone to come over even if I begged.

On the other hand Anja, my 9 year-old sister, had at least three friends over since we got here. Anja was always better at socializing. Prettier with her wavy blonde hair and bright green eyes. As much as I envied her perfection, I loved her more than anything. We had always been really close, but grew even closer after the accident.

Stabbing another piece of lettuce, I brought it to my mouth, but dropped the fork in defeat. I grabbed my book that sat next to my tray and began to read to keep my mind away from such depressing thoughts. About halfway down the page though, a voice interrupted me.

"Hey."

I peered over the pages of my book. Three girls, all dressed in red cheerleading uniforms, took a seat in front of me. One had bleach blonde hair while the other two were brunettes. Their hair was tied back into ponytails and black mascara was caked onto their eyelashes. I set the book down cautiously on the table.

"Hi."

The blonde one spoke first. "You're Elizaveta, right?"

"Yes," I replied.

She smiled. "Well, I'm Jordyn, that's Candice, and that's Katie. We heard you're from Russia. Is that true?"

I looked between the three girls. "Um…yes."

"I love your necklace," Katie said with a wide smile.

Grinning, I clutched my silver Star of David necklace. "Yes, it is very special to me. Are you guys Jewish?"

They all laughed. My smile fell, not exactly sure what was so funny. All of a sudden Jordyn's face turned cold, and she leaned in close to my face. I pushed back into the chair.

"Do I look like a filthy Jew?" she hissed.

Candice and Katie laughed. "You don't even need the necklace to tell that you're a Jew, all you need is one look at that huge schnozz," Katie snickered.

"The Nazis made a huge mistake not putting your relatives in the ovens," Jordyn said cruelly.

"Who would want to be friends with a disgusting Russki?" Candice heckled.

My temper flared. "Don't call me that!" I snarled.

All three of them giggled again. "Ah, the Jew is sticking up for herself. How pathetic! Why don't you go back to Russia loser?"

_"I hope all you bitches go to hell,"_ I growled in Russian, while snatching up my lunchbox and book. I hurried out of the lunch room as their jeering continued. It took all my strength to fight back the tears threatening to hijack my eyes. I fast-walked toward the girls' bathroom, my eyes glued to the ground beneath my feet.

_Bam._

I flew backward and landed on my back, while my lunchbox and book scattered across the floor. My face flushed with shame.

"I'm sorry. I wasn't paying atten-" I said, trying to keep my voice steady and dissipate any suspicions of crying.

"Elizaveta?" the guy asked, pulling himself to his feet.

I instantly recognized the voice. "Finn?"

He extended a hand to me and helped me to my feet. "Yeah, I was just heading to lunch."

I looked away and kept my eyes to the floor. I didn't want him to see that I'd been crying. "Oh."

Finn quickly dipped down and picked up my belongings. He handed them to me. "Hey, are you okay?"

Mustering up as much dignity as I could, I nodded. "I'm fine."

At that moment, I could feel my voice cracking and sobs rose within my throat. Without saying anything more, I took off down the hallway. I ran and ran until I took a sharp turn and crashed through the door of the girls' bathroom. I leaned over the sink as tears gushed down my cheeks with noisy sobs. I was so disgusted with myself; I couldn't even look in the mirror. Warm saltwater washed my cheeks as my nose ran uncontrollably. I clutched the Star of David around my neck, praying to God for strength.

"Why…why?" I cried, slamming my hands down against the sink with fury. I had never been so humiliated in my life. No one liked me here. No one cared about me. Those girls were right. I was a Jew. I was a Russki. But most of all…I was a loser.

* * *

"Dammit!" I muttered as I hit my locker door profusely. Since the beginning of the year, I could only get it open about 50 percent of the time. "Give me back my Pre-Calc book!" I demanded, giving one last defeated punch.

"If you're not nice to it, it won't open," Finn drawled, joking around.

I sighed. "You're not being much help."

He gently pushed me aside. "What's your combo?"

"2-17-31," I whispered as he turned the dial accordingly.

Finn carried out the combination and pulled up on the metal. Nothing. He tried again. Nothing. Just as I thought he had given up, Finn jiggled the metal a little bit, and the locker door popped open.

"Ta da," he announced triumphantly.

"Thanks," I mumbled, pulling my book from the evil, metal beast. I turned back to him. "So why are you really here? I assume you didn't just come to help me with my locker."

He licked his lips and jammed his hands into his pockets. "Well, I was wondering when you were going to try out for Glee. I kind of told the group you would, but you haven't come. Why haven't you shown?"

I sighed. "I told you I'd consider it, and I did. It's not for me."

"But you're great!" he argued.

"Maybe, but I can't sing in front of other people. And I don't know if you noticed, but I have no friends and quite frankly, Glee Club is social suicide," I answered, transferring more books into my book bag.

"Yeah, well we're all really close. It could be a good way to make some friends," Finn replied.

"Thanks, but no thanks. I have to study for English," I said, closing my locker door. As I was trying to shove my English binder into my bag, my most recent vocabulary test fell onto the floor.

Before I could snatch it up, Finn grabbed it. He glanced at the top and looked over at me. "Are you having trouble with English?"

I bit my lip and crossed my arms. "No," I denied.

Finn turned the test so that it faced me. In big red lettering at the top it read,

_42%_

"It was a bad day for me," I hissed, snatching the test from his prying eyes.

He gave me a skeptical look.

I pushed the test back into my book bag. "Fine, I suck at English, happy? I'm failing right now," I confessed.

"But you speak the language fine," Finn acknowledged.

"Yeah, well, writing and vocabulary is a lot harder than speaking," I answered, starting down the hallway toward the buses.

Finn caught my arm. "Hey, what if I make you a deal. I'll tutor you in English if you join New Directions," he offered.

I chewed on the inside of my cheek. I really didn't want to try out for Glee, but I couldn't afford failing my English class either. I spun around and gave a reluctant nod.

"Fine. You'll tutor me every day before Glee on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Deal?" I said.

"Deal, now come on, we're going to be late," he replied, motioning in the direction of the choir room.

_God, what was I getting myself into…_

* * *

"Hey, Mr. Schue sorry I'm late," Finn said, striding into the room with me in tow.

Mr. Schuester turned around and grinned. "That's fine, Finn. Take a seat. I see you recruited another student. We're happy to have you, Elizaveta," he answered warmly.

I looked around the room at the mish-mosh of the school's different social groups. A couple of the members I recognized from some of my classes, but most of them I hadn't seen before.

"Who is she?" the girl I saw singing a few weeks ago asked. Her eyes narrowed with suspicion and her arms were across her chest.

"Elizaveta Andronikov. She's a new student from Russia, Rachel," Mr. Schuester responded.

"A Russian chick, kinky," a guy with a mohawk drawled with a devious smirk.

My cheeks reddened with embarrassment.

"Look Rachel another Jew. Maybe you two can trade dreidels. And look she's a ging, we got a real life Chava ladies and gentlemen," a Hispanic girl retorted.

"I love Java Chip Frappuccinos," a girl with blonde hair said dumbly.

Everyone in the glee club gave her strange looks and shook their heads.

"Puck, Santana, knock it off. Come on guys, you're not being very nice to a potential member. Now, Elizaveta, what song will you be auditioning with?" Mr. Schuester inquired.

"Um…" I stuttered, pausing, "I didn't really prepare a song." I glanced over at Finn with pleading eyes.

Finn rose from a chair in the front row and pulled me aside. "What's up?"

"I don't know if I can do this. I've never sang in front of anyone before," I breathed, fear gripping my stomach.

"You know "You're the One that I Want" from Grease, right?" he whispered.

"Of course."

Finn gave me an encouraging smile. "Just keep your eyes on me, alright?"

"Okay," I agreed.

He pulled me back over to the center of the room. I held my hands together in front of me to keep them from fidgeting. Finn pointed at the pianist and provided the song and key. The accompaniment began, and he turned to face me, grinning.

"I got chills, they're multiplying. And I'm losing control. 'Cause the power, you're supplying. It's electrifying," Finn sang, falling to his knees dramatically.

My lungs heaved in a breath as I remembered his words.

_Keep your eyes one me._

"You better shape up, 'cause I need a man. And my heart is set on you. You better shape up, you better understand. To my heart I must be true. Nothing left," I sang, circling around him with attitude.

"Nothing left for me to do. You're the one that I want. You are the one I want. Ho-, ho-, ho-honey. You're the one that I want. You are the one I want. Ho-, ho-, ho-honey. You're the one that I want. You are the one I want. Ho-, ho-, ho-, the one that I need. Oh yes indeed," we both sang as I pulled him to his feet.

I took up the solo again. "If you're filled with affection. You're too shy to convey. Meditate in my direction. Feel your way." I ran my hand up my thigh seductively as Finn slid across the floor on his knees.

"I better shape up, 'cause you need a man," he sang.

"I need a man who can keep me satisfied."

"I better shape up, if I'm gonna prove."

"You better prove that my faith is justified."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes I'm sure deep down inside. You're the one that I want. You are the one I want. Ho-, ho-, ho-honey. You're the one that I want. You are the one I want. Ho-, ho-, ho-honey," we sang together.

To add my own flare Finn kept repeating the same phrase while I countered with my own. "You're the one that I want. Keep me satisfied. The one that I want."

"You're the one that I want," we sang, belting out the last chord with all our strength. Just as we hit it, I pulled his shirt toward me, our faces inches from each other.

The room roared with applause. I quickly let go of the fabric, and we both smiled at each other.

"See you did great," Finn assured.

"Thanks," I whispered, turning to the rest of the room.

Everyone continued clapping and whispered to each other about my talent, and Mr. Schuester rose up, clapping. Rachel was also standing up, frowning with her arms across her chest. My eyebrows furrowed. Why was she so mad?

"That was amazing, Elizaveta. Welcome to-" Mr. Schuester laughed, but Rachel interrupted.

"With all due respect, Mr. Schue, I don't think she's good enough for the star quality of this group. She was a tad pitchy which could cost us in competition," she argued.

"Hold the hell up. First of all, you have made it very clear to all of us that you're the only "star quality" in this group. And secondly, she could kick your ass with her voice any day," Santana said, spinning around to face her.

"Yeah, you're just worried that you won't get as many solos. You're not thinking about the group. We could use her. She's good," an African American girl stated.

"And you're scared that you're going to lose Finn," the blonde girl from before added.

"Guys, come on-" Mr. Schuester yelled, but it only escalated.

"Finn and I are perfectly happy, right Finn?" Rachel insisted, staring straight at him.

Finn didn't say anything. The whole room got silent, and Rachel's face fell. Tears filled her eyes as she gathered up her bag and coat.

"You know what I don't need this. Bye, Mr. Schue," she announced, striding toward the door.

"Rachel, wait-" Mr. Schuester begged, but the door slammed behind her. He closed his eyes, regaining his patience and composure.

I linked my hands in front of me. "I really don't want to cause any trouble. I can leave if you want," I replied.

He shook his head, a smile creeping back onto his face. "No. Welcome to New Directions, Elizaveta."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**Okay, I know this chapter's shorter, but I wanted to post at least something tonight. Guys, I'm not going to be one of those people that demand reviews to unlock the next chapter, but I really would like you guys to review and tell me what you think. I'm all for constructive criticism. Everyone can improve, right? Review and tell me what I need to fix so I can make the story better for you! Thanks :) **

"Castigate."

"To envy or get jealous of?" I guessed, wincing at his response.

"No. Castigate means to scold or get angry at. Come on, Elizaveta, I know you know this material," Finn sighed, setting the book down on the table.

I ran my fingers through my auburn waves, gripping my scalp. "Face it, Finn, I'm dumb. I suck," I hissed, extremely frustrated.

He shook his head. "You're not dumb. You just need to work harder on it. Now, what does pilfer mean?"

I wracked my brain for the answer, but all that came up was Russian words and letters. "I don't know," I mumbled, burying my face into my arms.

Finn closed the book. "I think you're done for the day. We'll pick up here on Friday. Now come on, let's go to Glee," he said, stuffing his books into his backpack.

"I'm not going," I replied through the fabric of my sleeves.

"What do you mean you're not going? We had a deal," Finn questioned, his voice rising with anger.

My eyes shot up toward him. "I don't know if you noticed, but that Rachel girl doesn't like me. And it seems like you all have enough problems of your own without me jumping into the mix," I retorted.

He rolled his eyes. "You just have to ignore her. Rachel gets weird like that sometimes. _I_ don't even understand her 50 percent of the time," he assured.

"You two are dating, right?"

Finn stayed silent for a moment, shrugging. "I don't know. We've been…having problems lately."

"And you really think it's the best idea to be tutoring me on top of all this?" I inquired skeptically.

"I don't know, probably not, but honestly I'm barely even talking to her right now so it doesn't really matter. Come on, let's go," Finn insisted.

Licking my lips, I gathered up my books and transferred them to my book bag. As we exited the library, Finn turned toward me.

"Hey, I've been meaning to ask you something."

"Shoot."

"What happened that day when I ran into you outside the cafeteria? You looked kind of…bad," he questioned.

"Oh, gee, thanks so much," I answered, slightly offended.

"I mean you looked upset. Like you had been crying…" Finn sighed, trailing off.

I looked away. "It was nothing. I overreacted."

"No, not from the way you ran out of there," he argued.

"Okay, fine, a few girls said some pretty nasty things to me during lunch. I got up, ran, and cried. Happy?" I confessed with irritation.

"What did they say?"

I shrugged. "They called me a dirty Jew, Russki, said that my great-grandparents should've gone into the ovens, said that I had a big nose, you know, typical racist jokes."

"I'm…sorry," Finn replied awkwardly.

"It's whatever. I'm over it," I said nonchalantly as we entered the choir room.

Finn strode across the room and took a seat next to Puck, causing Rachel to look on, clearly upset. Not wanting to rock the boat further, I shuffled over to a chair a few places away from the rest of the group. The members continued to chatter and gossip until Mr. Schuester called the students to order.

"Okay guys, this week's lesson is going to be," he announced, scribbling something on the board, "secrets. Tell us something about you that we don't already know. It'll help us get to know each other better and give Elizaveta a feel for what this group's about."

"What's hard about that? A lot can be said for a daily slushie in the face," Puck snorted.

"Yeah, Mr. Schue, it's not any secret that we're the outcasts of the school. Elizaveta's no exception," an Asian girl said honestly.

"Not that this pity party isn't fun, but can we please give this girl a nickname? She sounds like a 42 year-old cat lady whose father is a homeless rabbi," Santana demanded, nodding over to me.

"Santana!" Mr. Schuester exclaimed.

"Come on, everyone knows it's true. The girl sticks out like Berry in her ugly-ass tights. She needs something more common and not so Fiddler on the Roof," she defended.

"That's not for you to decide. It's Elizaveta's choice," another, smarter girl with blonde hair commented.

I felt everyone's eyes fall on me. I nervously pulled at the sleeves of my shirt. "I-I don't care. Whatever you think is…um…best," I mumbled, blushing.

"Well, don't bully her into it. Elizaveta, it's your choice," Finn reiterated.

"No, it's-" I started, but was quickly interrupted.

"I'm not bullying you, right?" Santana argued, staring down at me.

"No, I'm-"

"I just don't get why you guys making such a big deal out of her. You're all accommodating to her like she's Celine Dionne," Rachel said, rolling her eyes.

"Careful Rachel you're jealousy's showing," the black girl stated sarcastically.

"Guys, please don't-" I plead, but am cut off once again.

"How embarrassing, Rachel," the dumb blonde girl replied.

"I like the nickname Eli. What do you guys think?" Santana inquired, changing the subject.

"Sexy and badass," Puck answered.

"I could dig it," the guy in the wheelchair stated.

"Wait, she's an eel?" the dumb blonde girl asked.

"Remember its Elizaveta's choice," Finn insisted.

"I'm fine with-"

"Well, from now on she's Eli," Santana said triumphantly.

"Guys, knock it off! I wouldn't be surprised if she quit right now by the way all of you been acting. Now, I want all of you to go around and introduce yourselves since we didn't get a chance to yesterday," Mr. Schuester yelled, anger enveloping his tone. He nodded to Finn to begin.

"Finn Hudson."

"Noah Puckerman. Puck. Call me Noah, and I'll end you."

"Lauren Zizes."

"Rachel Berry."

"Tina Cohen-Chang."

"Mike Chang."

"Mercedes Jones."

"Santana Lopez."

"Brittany Pierce."

"Quinn Fabray."

"Sam Evans."

"Artie Abrams."

I nodded my head as each of them said their name, making a mental note of each one.

Mr. Schuester smiled. "Now, why don't you come up here and tell us a little about yourself," he offered, moving off to the side.

Reluctantly, I moved to the front of the room, linking my hands together. "Well, as you know, my name is Elizaveta Andronikov. You can call me Eli if you want. I'm from St. Petersburg, Russia. I went to a ballet academy and danced ever since I was two. I wanted to be a professional ballerina. I've been singing since I was six, but had never sang in front of anyone before yesterday. I have a little sister, Anja, and I'm currently living with my aunt and uncle," I said, looking around at all their faces.

"Why did you move to the United States?" Mike asked.

I licked my lips, trying to fabricate the perfect lie. "I want to go to college here. Seemed like the right time to do so."

"Why didn't your parents come with you?" Sam questioned.

I felt a tug within my heart and for a second my legs gave away. I fought the tears that welled up in my throat and regained my composure. "They stayed back in Russia. They weren't sure if they'd be able to find decent jobs here," I lied smoothly.

"Will you dance for us? You must have been really good to want to be a professional dancer." Rachel asked skeptically.

I tucked my bangs behind my ear. "I would, but I can't…" I answered.

"Why not? Just do a small routine. If you want to be a dancer, you're going to have to dance on the spot," she insisted.

"I know, but I can't…" I reiterated softly. I could feel myself slowly retreating into my inner shell.

"Or you just won't?"

"Rachel, stop it!" Finn exclaimed, looking at her with disgust.

"I don't see what the big deal is. She could at least try," Rachel replied hotly.

I shied away, stumbling backward. I could feel a blush heating up on my cheeks. "I have to go." I hurried over to the chairs and snatched up my bag.

"Eli, wait," Mr. Schuester pleaded.

"Until she has something nice to say to me, I'm sorry, but I have to go," I choked out, holding back the tears. I exited the room, closing the door behind me. I gripped the fabric on my shirt as tears tumbled down my cheeks.

_If only they knew the truth…if only they knew pain like mine…_


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

**Hey guys sorry I haven't posted in awhile. I've been super busy. Anyway thanks for all the reviews, I really appreciate it! Continue to review and let me know what you think or hope happens! Oh yeah, and I don't own King of Anything by Sara Bareilles.**

I gripped my scarf as the late November air hit me square in the face. The once warm tears turned to ice water as they ran down my cheeks. I readjusted my bag on my shoulder.

_Just get to your car and everything will be okay. Don't look back. Just keep moving forward. _

My lungs shuddered with cries as I could make out my small, black Honda civic in the distance.

_I wasn't interested in Finn, and I was no threat to Rachel's singing ability. Why was she so nasty to me? I didn't know what she wanted me to say or do. I was always doing something wrong. _

All of a sudden, a familiar feeling washed over me. My lungs pressed against my ribcage, struggling to get oxygen into my airways. My eyes felt like they were going to explode from their sockets. I struggled to stay standing, but my knees gave out, rendering me to the pavement. My muscles began to contract and contort, but I was no longer in control of my body. Then, darkness.

* * *

"Oh my God, she's dead, Blaine. She's dead!" a high-pitched male voice exclaimed.

"Kurt, she's not dead. Do you think we should call 911 though?" the guy who I assumed to be Blaine whispered.

I slowly opened my eyes, squinting from the intense sunlight. Two guys were kneeling down in front of me, one in a black coat and a preppy, plaid scarf and the other in an olive green coat. I opened my mouth, but my exhausted muscles refused to form words. Instead, I had to shake my head loosely.

"Hey, look she's awake. Are you okay? We saw you collapse," Blaine asked, sitting to my left.

With what little strength I had, I nodded. I leaned forward to force myself onto my feet, but Kurt pushed me back gently.

"I don't think that's the best idea right now. I'm Kurt and that's Blaine. So what's your name?"

"Eli Andronikov," I whispered, regaining my voice. Ignoring the two guys in front of me, I dug through my bag and pulled out a little notepad and pen. I clicked the pen open. "How long was I out?"

Blaine shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe two minutes."

My hand shook uncontrollably as I struggled to record the time in the notepad. "How would you describe my convulsions?" I questioned calmly, pen poised.

Kurt and Blaine gave me a funny look. "Blaine, maybe we should take her to the hospital to make sure she doesn't have a concussion," Kurt murmured.

I rolled my eyes. "I have to record this. I have epilepsy, and they need to know how to adjust the dosage of my medication. Now convulsions?" I replied impatiently.

They both looked at each other. "Well, you were shaking, twitching, convulsing, and unconscious," Kurt drawled, not sure what to say.

My handwriting came out in scribbles, but it was legible enough to read. I stuffed the pen and notepad back into my bag. I rose to my feet, despite their insisting that I sit back down. "Trust me, I'm fine. This happens more often than you think," I assured.

"It seems like much too often. Do you need us to call someone to come pick you up?" Blaine offered with a smile.

I shook my head. "Nah, I'm fine. My car's just up there. Thanks, though," I replied.

Kurt gave me an incredulous look. "You, driving? Just five minutes ago you were flopping on the ground like a dead fish."

"Yeah, you're in no condition to be driving," Blaine said, supporting Kurt.

I sighed. "I told you I'm perfectly fine. I was just stressed, that's what caused it. Besides, I have to pick up my little sister from the elementary school," I answered.

"Kurt, you can go pick up Mercedes and Rachel while I take Eli and her sister home. I'll text you her address and just come pick me up there," Blaine stated, nodding toward the school. He then turned to me. "Keys."

"But I-"

"Keys," he demanded, holding out his hand.

I rolled my eyes, reluctantly handing them over. Waving goodbye to Kurt, we walked over to my car. I threw my bag into the backseat as Blaine hopped into the driver's side. Once I slid into the passenger's seat, he grinned.

"Stick shift. I'm impressed," he chuckled, starting the engine.

"Damn, too bad you're gay," I laughed.

His eyes widened as he looked over at me. "How'd you know?"

I smiled. "Don't get me wrong, I think your sense of style is charming, but it screams gay. No straight guy dresses that preppy or uses that much hair gel."

"Hey, there's nothing wrong with gay or charming," Blaine replied with a laugh, but paused, "are you new to McKinley?"

"Mhm. I just moved here last month," I answered.

"How do you like it? Made any friends?" he questioned as we pulled out of the parking lot.

Even though I just met the kid, I felt like I could tell him anything. He was so easy to talk to, so sociable.

"Honestly?" I asked, wincing.

"Honestly."

"I hate it. The kids are just cruel. No one will talk to me just because I'm a little different. Who knew being foreign could label you as a loser…" I sighed.

Blaine nodded. "Yeah, they are. Kurt used to go to McKinley, but eventually transferred to Dalton, my school, after kids kept bullying him for being gay. To be honest, I'm not really surprised that they're bullying you too. They jump on anyone who's different. Oh by the way, I love your accent. What country are you from?"

"Wow, that's awful. Oh, and thank you. I'm from Russia," I stated.

"Nice. Well, what brings you to Lima, Ohio? It's not actually anything special," he questioned, his eyes focused on the road.

"I want to go to college over here so it seemed like a good time to move. I'm living with my aunt and uncle currently," I said.

"What about your parents? Where are they?"

A lump formed in my throat. I fought against the will to cry and urged myself to keep it together. "They're still in Russia. They were worried that they wouldn't be able to find decent jobs here if they came too."

"I see. Well, have you made any friends yet?" he inquired.

I shook my head shyly. "No."

Blaine smiled. "I happen to know a couple of great people that go to McKinley. They're part of Glee Club. You've heard of it, right?"

"Actually, I'm a part of Glee Club," I answered, grinning.

He turned to me, mouth open. "No way! Well, they're great. Santana and Puck can be a little overly honest, but Rachel and them are-" he started, but I cut him off.

"Rachel hates me," I stated flatly.

"I'm sure she doesn't hate you. Rachel can just be a tad bit…abrasive sometimes," Blaine laughed.

"I'm serious! She hates me! She thinks that I'm trying to steal Finn, and she didn't even _want _me in New Directions. I'm telling you, she's out to get me," I insisted.

"Just give her a chance. Rachel can be really nice. But I have to say, Rachel only gets that way when she senses competition," he said, turning down the radio, "sing for me."

"I don't think so," I laughed, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Come on, just one verse," Blaine replied.

"No, Blaine."

"Please, just one verse. That's all I'm asking," he begged.

"No."

"Please?"

Growing tired of his nagging, I sighed. "Fine." I pondered a moment to think of a song and then took a deep breath in preparation. "Keep drinkin' coffee stare me down across the table, while I look outside. So many things I'd say if only I were able, but I just keep quiet and count the cars that pass by."

"You've got opinions, man. We're all entitled to 'em, but I never asked. So let me thank you for your time and try not to waste anymore of mine. Get out of here fast," Blaine sang back.

I grinned as we both took up the next verse. "I hate to break it to you babe, but I'm not drowning. There's no one here to save. Who cares if you disagree? You are not me. Who made you king of anything? So you dare tell me who to be. Who died and made you king of anything?"

I sang the next verse while Blaine provided backup vocals. "You sound so innocent. All full of good intent. Swear you know best."

"But you expect me to jump up onboard with you. And ride off into your delusional sunset," Blaine continued while I took a turn with the backup vocals.

"I'm not the one who's lost with no direction oh. But you'll never see."

"You're so busy makin' maps with my name on it in all caps. You've got the talkin' down just not the listening."

We both started singing together again. "Who cares if you disagree? You are not me. Who made you king of anything? So you dare tell me who to be. Who died and made you king of anything?"

I sang the next line, bursting with emotion, contrary to the original recording. "All my life I've tried."

"Tried," Blaine sang with harmony.

"To make everybody happy while I just hurt and hide," I continued.

"Hurt and hide."

"Waiting for someone to tell me it's my turn to decide."

We both picked up the chorus again. "Who cares if you disagree? You are not me. Who made you king of anything? So you dare tell me who to be. Who died and made you king of anything?"

Now Blaine took up the chorus while I harmonized with him. "You disagreed. King of Anything. Dare who to be. Who died. King of Anything."

Then in perfect timing we both finished together. "Let me hold your crown, babe."

I took in huge gulps of air, trying to gain back my breath.

Blaine grinned from ear to ear. "You were fantastic! Amazing!" he exclaimed.

I blushed. "Thank you."

"I can see why Rachel's jealous now. You might just give her a run for her money as lead female vocalist," Blaine replied with a smirk.

"That's the last thing I want," I assured, shaking my head.

He drove into the parent pick-up loop, and we both entered the school to pick Anja up from the gym. Anja's hair was done into two blonde braids, and she wore a red snowflake dress, white tights, and black shoes. Her green eyes lit up when she saw me, but quickly dulled as she noticed Blaine.

"Who is he?" Anja asked as I stuffed her flowery backpack into the trunk of the civic.

"His name is Blaine. Blaine, this is my little sister Anja," I answered, sliding into the passenger's seat.

"Hi Anja," Blaine greeted with a smile.

She gave him a wary look. "Why is he driving us home? You can drive good too."

"Well," I said, correcting her, "And I had another seizure, and he was nice enough to offer to drive both of us home. Now buckle up."

Anja obeyed, and Blaine pulled out onto the road. Warmness came over me as Blaine engaged Anja into some small talk and slowly coaxed her out of her shell. I couldn't help but smile to myself as we continued down the icy roads back to my aunt and uncle's house. For the first time since I moved here, I finally felt like I had a friend.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

**Hey guys, sorry this is super late. I've been really busy and so tired that I was struggling to finish this chapter. To make it up to you, I made this chapter unusually long (probably the longest I've ever written!). Review and let me know what ya'll think ;)**

I strode down the hallway toward Mr. Schuester's room. I casually looked down at my phone and saw a text from Blaine light up my screen. Smiling, I tapped the screen to open it.

_Stay strong. Don't let anyone bring you down :) _

I bit my lip and shook my head. He, Kurt and I had been texting all last night, and we planned on hanging out at Kurt's this weekend. I sighed blissfully. I finally had friends.

My serenity was short-lived when I glanced back up to see a football player come straight at me with a plastic cup. He smirked maliciously, and I shoved my phone into my back pocket confused.

"Eat slush, Gleek!"

Before I could make out a syllable, he thrust the cup toward me. A blast of cold and wet enveloped my face. My face stung with the freezing liquid, and my cheeks and brain ached from the intense coldness. I slowly opened my eyes to see the contents of a red slushie spilled over my knit sweater. The substance dripped down my face as I stood frozen in the middle of the hallway. Everyone around me burst into laughter, and I could feel hot tears stinging the edges of my eyes.

That's when Tina and Mike spotted me. They rushed forward and grabbed both of my arms.

"Oh my God, Eli, are you okay?" Mike questioned.

"Yeah," I answered calmly, keeping the tears from my voice.

"Come on, let's get you cleaned up," Tina offered.

Mike and Tina pulled me toward the nearest bathroom. Just as Tina and I entered the girls' bathroom, she spun back around toward Mike who stood outside.

"Go in my locker and there's an extra shirt in there," she said, and he quickly disappeared to go retrieve the article of clothing that I so desperately needed.

She directed me over to the sinks and instructed me to lean my head back into the sink. Tina turned on the faucet and a surge of warm water soaked into my slushie-treated hair. She splashed the stream of water onto my face, washing away all remnants of my slushie facial. Meticulously Tina worked the bits of ice crystals and cherry flavoring out of my hair.

She turned the faucet off. "You can stand up now."

I carefully lifted my head from the sink, and she squeezed out any remaining water into the basin. Tina pulled a hair tie off her wrist and handed it to me. "Here. Put your hair into a bun."

I obeyed and gave her a small smile. "Thanks, Tina."

She smiled back. "Hey, us gleeks have to stick together, right?"

I nodded, beaming. Though, at a sudden realization, my smile fell. "Does this happen to you guys often?"

"Unfortunately. No one does anything about it though. We just muddle through it. Luckily, they don't do it every day. But hey, you've been officially initiated into New Directions. Congratulations," she laughed.

I chuckled, whipping my wet waves into a perfect bun.

"Hey, that's a pretty nice bun. How'd you do it so fast?" Tina asked.

"You learn pretty fast when you're doing ballet for five hours a day, six days a week."

"Wow that's a lot of dancing, didn't you ever get sick of it?"

I grinned. "Never. It was always my passion. I'll admit some days were more frustrating than others, but it just made me want it more," I answered simply.

Just then a shirt was thrust through a crevice in the door by Mike. I took it gladly and disappeared into a stall. I changed out of my red-stained sweater and slipped into the black lace top. It was a little gothic for my taste, but it would have to do.

Tina and I exited the bathroom and headed into the hallway where Mike was waiting. From here we all had to go in separate directions toward our homerooms.

I smiled. "Thanks guys. I really appreciate it," I said, glancing at both of them.

They both beamed. "It was no trouble really," Tina insisted.

"You're one of us now. We're family," Mike replied.

I nodded. "Well, we better get to class. I'll see you both in Glee Club," I stated, starting down the hallway.

"We'll save you a seat," Mike called, heading in the opposite direction.

Finally, I had some friends at school now too. Just as I was about to continue on to Mr. Schuester's room, Tina's voice stopped me.

"Hey, we're all sorry about Rachel. She can be a little spotlight-hungry," Tina spoke apologetically.

I shook my head. "It's fine, really. I overreacted. I'm just really overwhelmed right now."

A smile played onto her lips. "Next time stand up to her, okay? Make her respect you," she requested.

I winked at her. "Will do."

* * *

"Oh my God, he slushied you?" Blaine exclaimed in disbelief as he took a seat on the floor next to Kurt.

I sat up on Kurt's bed. "Yeah, on Thursday. It was awful. Luckily, Tina and Mike were there to save me," I replied.

Kurt nodded. "I still can remember the taste. Artificial Cherry and sweat. I'm pretty sure they squeezed out their football socks in them," he answered, shuddering at the thought.

"Gross," I said, a chill running up my spine at the thought of my own personal slushie.

"So how is Glee Club? Still having problems with Rachel?" Blaine questioned, leaning his chin on his knees.

"Well, Mr. Schuester insisted that I dance _and_ sing a song for this past week's assignment. I told him I couldn't dance, but he refused to listen and said I shouldn't be so modest. He gave me an extension so I have to perform it on Wednesday. Oh, and she still hates me. She refuses to even acknowledge my existence," I sighed.

"Give her some time," Kurt assured, "she can be a bitch, but she can also be one of your most loyal friends. She doesn't like change so it may take her time to adjust."

"Wait, you dance?" Blaine questioned, his head perking up.

"I _used _to. Ballet. I went to a dance academy ever since I was three. I was on track to become a professional ballerina, one of the best in my country," I explained.

"What made you stop?" Kurt asked.

I laughed bitterly. "You make it sound like it was my choice," I snorted, "the reason no longer matters. I can't dace anymore. It is what it is."

Not wanting to pry further, they simply nodded and moved on.

"So what was Mr. Schuester's week assignment last week?" Kurt inquired, taking a sip of cocoa from a mug.

I rolled my eyes. "Secrets. The last thing I want Rachel to know is something personal about me."

"So what song are you doing?" Blaine asked, giving up on defending Rachel.

"What else? I Hope You Dance by Lee Ann Womack," I answered with a smirk.

"But don't they already know you dance?" Kurt argued with a confused look.

"Yeah, but they'll hopefully get to _see_ me dancing, if all goes to plan. That should be secret enough for them. I honestly don't think my secrets are any of their business," I replied with a shrug.

"True," they both said, nodding.

The rest of the night we discussed new fashions, the Warbler's, Glee Club, and of course Rachel. We laid around, listening to music and discussing different artists, singing along to the songs into our throats were raw. But as it grew later and later, we slowly drifted off to sleep. Normally, that wouldn't have been a problem, but of course this time it was.

* * *

_"Honey, you were lovely tonight. You hit every beat perfectly," my mother commented from the back seat. _

_I glared at her through the rear-view mirror. "I sucked. I forgot the second turn on the third beat during my solo, and my foot was sickled on my last landing," I hissed._

_My father gazed at me from the passenger's seat. "You're being too hard on yourself, Liza," he insisted._

_"Yeah, you were great!" Anja declared from the seat next to Mother. _

_"I don't want to talk about it!" I snarled._

_"Liza, please don't-" Mother started, but I cut her off._

_"I'm going to stay late at the academy all this week and work on the turns and get Nasya to make sure my feet are perfect. I'm not going to embarrass myself again like I did tonight," I announced, keeping my eyes glued to the road._

_"I think you're overworking yourself, sweetheart. You need some downtime," Father answered._

_I shook my head stubbornly. "Irina Baronova didn't become amazing by lying around the house all day. She was in the studio constantly."_

_"We're just worried about you, darling. I get this is important to you, but your father and I are-"_

_I slammed my hands against the steering wheel. "No! You don't get it! You never get it! Ballet is the most important thing to me! Mama, Papa, I want to be a professional ballerina, and both of you aren't helping! Without ballet I'd be nothing! I need to do this!" I yelled, furious at their constant misunderstanding. _

_My mother laid her hand on my shoulder. "Liza, there's no need to-"_

_"Get off of-" I shrieked, pushing her hand off of me, but I was interrupted by the sound of a car's horn. _

_My eyes instantly flew back to the road as I was crossing an intersection with a red light flashing in front of me. A truck came hurdling toward us from the right side._

_"Elizaveta!" Father screamed, but that was all I could make out._

_Crunch. Rolling. Spinning. Crashing._

_Darkness._

_My eyes fluttered open sometime later, my head pounding with a killer headache. Red engulfed my vision as blood poured into my eyes from a deep gash on my forehead. My eyes slowly ran over the damage of the car; the windshield blown out, the car completely demolished, the creaking of metal bending in unnatural ways. I struggled to breathe, but felt no puncture wound. It felt like something was compressing my chest. My eyes drifted downward. _

_I screamed. _

_My father's body was sprawled out across my chest and lap, his dead weight placing pressure on my lungs. Even more disturbing was his body was face down and yet his face was right side up in a clearly unnatural and sickening way. My father's facial features were bloodied to the point where I struggled to recognize him. He didn't move. Not even the slightest bit. I still shook him. _

_"Papa! Papa!" I cried, trying desperately to wake his disfigured body._

_Nothing._

_"Papa! Please! Please, don't! Goddammit, Papa!" I screeched, shaking his body violently._

_Nothing. _

_I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. The metallic taste of blood enveloped my mouth. I struggled to push him off of me. _

_That's when I heard a faint whimper. A crying of sorts. Knowing it was a bad idea, I still craned my neck over the seat to look back. _

_Anja was cowering against the seat. I looked for any sign of severe physical trauma, but it appeared that she only suffered minor cuts and bruises. Mentally, though, I was concerned. I then noticed my mother was slumped forward. She showed no signs of movement._

_"Anja?" I whispered, looking from between the two of them._

_She broke into tears and that was enough for me. Both of my parents were dead. I had killed them. I didn't even get to say goodbye. My last words to them were full of hate._

_I slammed my head against seat, despite the intense pain that clouded my head. Hot tears cut through the boiling blood dripping down my face. "Why? Come back, please come back!" I screamed, smacking the steering wheel. "Give them back! I'm sorry," I cried, "I'm so sorry! I'll do anything!"_

_All of a sudden foreign voice invaded my thoughts. _

_"Eli, wake up! It's okay. It's just a dream. Wake up!"_

* * *

I screamed, flying up from Kurt's pillow. The room was dark and moonlight poured in through the window. A figure sat on the bed next to me while another stood in the middle of the room.

"What's wrong, Eli? What's wrong?" Blaine asked quickly.

I struggled to catch my breath. My whole body ached from thrashing, and my throat was raw from screaming. I brushed back the strands of hair that stuck to my sticky forehead. "Just a bad dream," I answered breathlessly.

"Kurt, turn on the lights," he requested.

With a simple flick of the switch, light illuminated the room. I squinted to see the two of them. Kurt joined Blaine and me on the bed.

"We must've all fallen asleep," Kurt sighed tiredly.

"We did. Around one. I turned off the lights. Eli, are you sure you're okay? You're looking kind of pale," Blaine answered.

My fingers grazed my cheekbones. They were as cold as ice. My fingertips located the lingering tears, trying desperately to wipe them into oblivion. The nightmare was so real. So lifelike. I thought it was really happening. That the most horrible day of my life was repeating itself.

"I'm okay," I forced myself to respond.

_Never show weakness. _

"Okay, goodnight," Blaine replied, giving me a hug. Instantly, he retracted. "You're soaked. Why are you damp?"

I blushed as I realized that I was dripping with a cold sweat. "It was a very vivid nightmare," I whispered, mortified at my current state.

"It's okay. Kurt, why don't you go into Finn's room and grab her a t-shirt and shorts to borrow," he offered, looking over at Kurt who was still bleary-eyed with tiredness.

"Yeah, sure," he answered, rising up from the bed slowly. Kurt staggered out of the room and disappeared down the hallway.

My eyes widened. "Wait, Finn lives here? Finn Hudson?"

Blaine nodded. "Yeah. He and Kurt are stepbrothers. You didn't know that?"

"No," I murmured, running a hand through my knotted hair.

"Why?" he inquired.

"Just wondering," I lied. God if Rachel ever found out that I stayed overnight at Kurt and Finn's, she would have me shipped off to the Bermuda Triangle. I tried to calm my shaking hands.

We waited a few minutes in silence, but Kurt didn't return.

Blaine glanced up at the clock and rose up from the bed. "I'm going to see what's keeping him." He exited the room, leaving me in the room alone.

I sat on the bed, my head swimming with memories of the nightmare. _Mama. Papa. Gone. My sister traumatized. Me insane. _It only happened three months ago. The wounds still raw in my mind. The nightmare occurred at least once every two weeks. The result always the same. Screaming, kicking, thrashing. And what did I do? Choked it down. Pushed it back into my mind. Grief had to come later, for the sake of my sister.

I slid off the bed, my feet landing softly on the plush carpet. I walked over to the window, everything in a confusing haze. My fingers touched the cool glass of the window. A full moon. Papa and Mama would always sit out on the porch during full moons. They said they loved to watch it illuminate the city. How even though it was millions of miles away, it could still reach out and caress the world in beauty.

I felt no caress. I felt no comfort. I covered my mouth with my hand, trying to stifle the sobs that were hijacking my lungs. Tears flowed freely as I wished I could go back and change that day. I would give anything to bring my mother and father back. It was my fault, so why didn't God take me?

"Eli?" a voice said from behind me.

I tried to hold in the tears, to stop the lung spasms, but it was no use. I was far beyond the point of no return. I spun around to face Kurt and Blaine who stood in the doorway, completely alert and wide-eyed with concern.

I crumbled to the floor, losing all my strength. "I'm sorry," I cried, "I'll be okay. I promise. I just need a moment." I repeated, saying it more to convince myself than them.

Both of them dropped the clothes and rushed to my side. "Hey, what's wrong? It was only a nightmare. No need to cry," Blaine inquired, pushing back my side bangs.

"You wouldn't understand," I wailed, burying my face into my hands.

Kurt placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. "Maybe we can if you tell us what happened."

A sudden anger overtook me and adrenaline coursed through my veins. My strength was regained, and I jumped up to my feet. "You could never understand why I'm a hopeless mess! You probably think I'm an emotional freak, but I have every right to be! If only you knew. Oh God, if only you understood why I'm bawling my eyes out and trying to beat that horrible nightmare out of my head," I snarled, tearing at my hair with rage.

They both got to their feet, their eyes sympathetic. "Eli, it was only a nightmare. You're upsetting yourself over nothing," Blaine insisted.

"Nothing? You think that nightmare was about nothing? That nightmare was the worst day of my life being played over and over and over again in my mind. In a way that I can't control, in a way I can't escape. I watched my parents die. I watched them suffer again as if the first time wasn't enough. I watched myself yell at them, not getting to tell them how much I loved them, before I crashed our car. I saw myself kill them. Do you know what it's like to kill your parents? To know that they're dead because of you? And I-" I hissed, but my anger soon disintegrated, and I relinquished myself to a whisper, "I have to relive it and every time the guilt just eats at me until I can't breathe. I'm afraid to sleep. Afraid to close my eyes because I every time I do, I know I could be stuck in that moment of time. In that horrible day that I'll never, ever be able to take back."

Tears exploded from my eyes, and I collapsed onto the bed in defeat. Kurt stayed rooted to the floor, while Blaine was brave enough to approach me. I felt his hand rub gentle circles into my back.

"Is that why you can't dance? The car accident?" he asked gingerly, not wanting to upset me further.

I nodded my head. "I w…w…was in cr…cr…critical condition when they f…f…found me. I had severe head tr…tr…trauma that caused my e…e…epilepsy. The nerve endings in m…m…my feet were severely d…d…damaged. They were p…permanently weakened. They s…said I would risk p…p…paralyzing my feet or collapsing on s…stage during a performance," I stammered through bouts of crying.

"I'm so sorry, Eli," Blaine said, hovering over my limp body.

I continued to wail into the sheets of Kurt's bed, until I felt myself being pulled into a sitting position. I opened my eyes to see Blaine pressing my head into his shoulder.

He was warm and his arms made me feel safe from the dreams that threatened to destroy me from the inside out. He rocked me back and forth, hushing me and telling me it was going to be alright. "We're here for you. Everything will be okay. Just go to sleep. Tomorrow will be better. I promise," Blaine promised, stroking the back of my hair.

I buried my face further into his shoulder as the lights went out. He and Kurt stayed by my side and comforted me as I continued to cry until I ran out of tears. After about an hour, I finally began to drift off to sleep. But even though Blaine laid down beside me, I was still terrified what awaited me in my dreams. He promised me that I'd be okay, but he couldn't be sure. He couldn't save me from myself.


End file.

Glee, Drama, Romance