It was all my fault.

Sure, we sang a song together to say it would all be okay, but what good did that really do? Marley was sick and it was because of me. A song wasn't going to change that.

I swear, I didn't mean for it to be this way.

I really didn't. I wanted to punish Marley, but I didn't think... I didn't think is it. I was so clouded by my vision of what the school was supposed to look like- cheerleaders in charge and cute boys willing to do whatever we wanted. Marley threatened that vision, so I had to make her pay.

This is how I've acted my whole life. Other people were simply obstacles to my path to success. I always found a way to get what I wanted. Both my parents are lawyers. They are cut-throat and willing to do anything to win a case. I guess I learned it from them. When I was 8, my 3rd grade class had an election for class president. I told my classmates that Nolan Reed still wet the bed and a vote for him was a vote for a baby. I won by a landslide. My parents were so proud, and continued to tell the story at family functions for years to come. They asked me what I wanted for such good work and I asked for a puppy. They got me a black lab and I named him Gunner. He has been my best friend ever since.

When I made the Cheerios, I got a car.

My parents encouraged my behavior, never questioning my lack of friends, but instead praising my strength as an individual. They saw success as the numbers in their bank account. They were always working; the only time they let themselves relax was at dinner. I could always count on this time to see and talk to them. They would diligently listen to the events of my day and eventually give me whatever advice they thought I needed. It typically sounded something like this:

"Don't ever let anyone hold you back, sweetheart," my mom always advised.

"Your mother's right. And don't forget, you can always do better," my dad would add.

I would nod, and list my goals to my parents, get smiles of approval before they headed to their separate studies to work on whatever cases they needed to.

They aren't bad parents; they provide everything I needed and always find time to support me in my extra-curriculars. Sure, they're on their phones sending emails and reading reports most of the time, but at least they're there. I know they loved me, and will always be there if I needed something. But I can't help but feel that something's missing.

My parents never taught me what love is.

Instead, I had grown up seeing other people as in the way, and if I didn't take advantage of them first, they would take advantage of me.

"It's a dog eat dog world, dear," my father insisted. Maybe that's why I had been called Kitty as long as I could remember.

I tried to understand love through movies, but they always portrayed women as so careless and reliant on men. I was smart and didn't need anyone to take care of me. So, I still didn't understand. I never felt those butterflies in my stomach around boys, so I thought they simply had to be wrong. I decided movies are fake and real love is more like compatibility. In college, I would find someone I got along with and would make a lot of money. Until then, boys were simply an accessory to heighten my status as HBIC. I focused my attention on football players and bad boys since they would do the most for my reputation.

When Marley Rose entered the halls of McKinley High, head high, eyes full of kindness and innocence, stealing the attention of both Jake and Ryder, I knew she had to be stopped. But, no matter how much I ridiculed her mom and her Walmart clothes, that smile just kept coming back. It was so frustrating. Even slushies couldn't stop her.

She was invincible.

Or so I thought. In a moment of evil genius, I exposed her greatest weakness- her weight. I altered her Sandy costume and introduced her to bulimia (which I swear I only did a couple of times freshman year to lose my baby fat). She lost her vigor; dark bags formed under her eyes and she lacked the energy to be the happy person I had first met. I won. Ryder even asked me out.

But it didn't mean anything. The instant she fell on the stage, I felt a wave of nausea come over me; I felt guilty. I could barely stammer out an answer when Santana rightfully blamed me for it. Tears were forming in my eyes and I felt an apology burning in my throat. I couldn't stop looking at Marley, trying to make sure she was okay. My fists had balled up in frustration. But I didn't do anything. When Coach announced our loss to the Warblers, I calmly walked out of the choir room and down the hall to the Cheerios locker room. I sat down on the first wooden bench I could find and finally let myself cry.

I screamed and punched the metal locker doors. I tore around the room, yelling at myself every time I saw my reflection in a passing mirror. I knew my parents would be waiting for me, so I didn't have much time. I took a deep breath, reminding myself that I could do anything, including fix this, before heading out to the parking lot.

My parents were already in the car, waiting for me. When they saw me walking towards them, they honked to signal me to hurry up. I lightly jogged to the car and climbed into the back seat. I had barely buckled into my seat when the car began to move towards our house.

"Is that girl alright?" my dad asked, eyes popping up towards the rearview mirror.

"Yeah, she was just nervous," I lied. I was glad it was dark and he couldn't see my tear-streaked face.

"I always hated group activities. One person can ruin it for everyone. I know you worked so hard, sweetheart," my mom responded. She didn't bother to look at me, her eyes fixated on her phone.

"It wasn't her fault. She was under a lot of pressure," I defended. I wanted so badly to confess that it was my fault, but I didn't want to disappoint my parents. I played with the hem of my dress in an attempt to distract myself.

"No excuses, you should always be at your best," my father lightly scolded. Any attempt to convince him otherwise would be futile, so the rest of the ride home was silent. When we pulled into the garage, I jumped out of the car, not even waiting for my dad to finish parking. I swiftly ran up the stairs and into my room. I shut the door behind me and knew my parents wouldn't ask any questions.

I slid down the length of my door, unsure of what to do.

I knew I had to apologize to Marley, but I didn't know how. Apologizing was for the weak and sorry was not a part of my vocabulary. I pulled out my phone wondering if I should call Marley or text her. A call was more personal, but I didn't know if I could handle hearing her cry anymore. So, I settled on a text. It wouldn't be an apology just yet, but the most I could manage. This was a big step for me, okay?

Me: I hope you're okay.

As I anxiously awaited her response, I heard Gunner whining at the door. I threw my phone on my bed and stood up to let him into my room. It was then that I realized I hadn't changed out of my sectionals outfit. I mindlessly took of my shoes and then pulled the dress over my head. Gunner lied down at the end of my bed and waited for me. He was no longer an energetic puppy, but now a loyal and understanding dog. I found a hanger in my closet and put my dress on it and away. I crossed the room to find something to sleep in, and was pulling into a pair of shorts on when I heard my phone vibrate. I tried not to fall as I ran towards my phone. I held my breath as I opened the message.

Marley: How could I be? I ruined everything.

I sat down on my bed, unsure of what to say. Instead of responding, I wrapped my arms around Gunner and began to cry. Marley didn't deserve to feel bad about something I caused. Marley didn't deserve to feel bad about anything. All Marley deserved to feel was happiness. And I took that away from her because I was jealous.

I had never felt so sorry in my life. Not when I told my parents I hated them for leaving me an only child, or even when I forgot to feed Gunner one day when I was sick. I didn't understand why I cared so much about Marley. She was nobody. We sang a song together once, which I guess was pretty good, and I made her bulimic. That was about it.

I asked myself what I always do when times are hard, "What would Quinn Fabray do?" but I couldn't think of an answer. Thankfully, she had given me her number when she was mentoring me, so I called her without hesitation. I petted Gunner to calm my nerves while I waited for her to pick up.

"Hello?" she answered after four rings.

"Hi Quinn, this is Kitty," I paused, unsure how to phrase what I needed ask. "I need some advice. If you have time that is," I said, biting my lip.

"What's up?" she asked.

"As you know, Marley fainted during our Sectionals performance today, disqualifying us," I began, confident.

"Yeah?" Quinn questioned, clearly puzzled.

I took a deep breath before responding, my voice softer than usual. "Well, what Santana said about me might have been right."

I could only imagine her disappointment in me. This was stupid. I should never have called my idol for advice; I was clearly letting down her legacy by caring for a loser like Marley. But I couldn't shake the feeling that she would know what to do.

It was quiet for about a minute before I whispered, "I've never felt so bad about anything in my whole life."

"Oh, Kitty," she sighed. "Have you talked to her?"

"I texted her to make sure she was alright and she said she ruined everything. She doesn't even blame me," I exclaimed, exasperated.

If Marley blamed me, she could at least put some of the pain on me. I could take it for her. I was strong.

"No, she wouldn't. You can fix this, but you're going to have to do some things you don't like," she warned.

"Anything," I responded.

When Quinn and I hung up, I felt much better. I remembered I still hadn't texted Marley back. Part of Quinn's advice was for me to prove to Marley that I'm changing and to show her that I do care.

Me: Everything will be better soon. I promise.

I padded into the bathroom and washed all the tear strained make-up off my face. The warm water felt nice on my puffy face.

"Tomorrow is a new day, a new Kitty," I told my reflection.

When I returned to my bed, I saw I had another text. I hadn't expected Marley to respond, so I was a little nervous. I crawled into bed before opening it, preparing for the worst.

Marley: Never make a promise you can't keep.

A smile crept up on my face.

Me: I promise to keep all the promises I promise you. :)

I reached over Gunner to turn off the light on my bedside table. I didn't know what it was, but my body felt warm and light. I tried to tell myself it was the exhaustion, shutting out any idea that it could be something more.

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