Hi everyone! Magandang araw (Good day)! Say hello to my new story. I know some of you had been hoping to read updates on my other ones but please give this story a chance. I'm kind of excited for my outline and all of my plans for this. Hehe. This takes place in a D/S society.

But first, a few things: Readers of my previous stories know by now that I can be really, really cruel to my characters, especially Quinn. She's a favorite and I'm one of those authors who like to put their fave characters in extremely trying situations. This fic is no exception – it deals with abuse, non-con, torture and such – so this serves as a warning for those who are sensitive to this kind of topics or have triggers.

This is an AU world so my characters – including Faberry – are OOC. Rachel's background would be different from canon (same with Quinn's).

And I want to say thank you to those who do not tire of supporting my other stories and take the effort to read and review. I'm really trying so, so hard to update as fast as I can but I work a taxing job 8 hours a day, 5 days a week, the shit called writer's block happens and there's so much more going on with my life so please bear with me. I said I will finish NLYD and my other stories and I will, no matter how long they'll take. I hope you'd stick with me 'til the end. J

I'm past 5,000 words for NLYD Chapter 12 but I really am having a bad case of writer's block. NLYD is kind of a bitch to write, 'cause it's very emotionally draining and all that shit so I figured I have to work on other things to get back on track. My muse is not cooperating per se, and I'm still trying to woe it to do so. I will try very hard to give you another NLYD chap within the next two weeks. Breathe is 100 times shorter and easier to write so I might be able to just finish it all in one sitting when my muse decides to stop being a pain in the #ss.

So, off with the rant and on with the story. This chap is quite short – just there to introduce things – but the next ones will be longer.

Chapter 1

/

Awestruck.

A word which, as it suggests by itself, means struck by awe.

It's one of Rachel Berry's favorite words because it's simple; it fits what it defines. And Rachel is a fan of simple, non-complicated things.

It's also her favorite feeling – the one she's having right at this very moment as she gapes wordlessly at the façade of this rented place she'll be calling home in the next few months – or years, if life here somehow turns out alright for her.

Sure, her little to-be haven is nothing compared to the three-storey mansion right next to it, but it's one of the best places Rachel will be in, of that she's fairly certain.

Clearly, she has underestimated her fathers' taste. At first she has been hugely pessimistic of Leroy and Hiram claiming that the place they found for Rachel in Lima, New York is inexpensive but beautiful because she didn't believe the two words can simultaneously describe something.

(It's her fathers who had looked for her staying place because Rachel has spewed every excuse she can think of to make herself seem busy so she won't be obliged to look for a new place to stay herself.)

And this has, so far, overshot every single thing in her list of expectations. The first floor is mostly made of transparent glass – same with the three-floor mansion beside it – but Rachel can't see anything from the inside because everything is covered by what seem to be floor-to-ceiling curtains of white and gold – a huge bonus because they are Rachel's favorite colors.

The second floor is mostly glass too, and a small balcony is placed right in the middle, on top of the main door below.

Inside though, things are even better. Her smile widens until it evolves to shameless giggling as she leaves her two large suitcases at the doorway and attacks the silver sofa with gold linings right in the middle of the mini-living room.

She truly wonders how such a beautiful place can be sold for a really low price, but she really doesn't want to complain, and she has no plans to.

(Besides, complaining would entail a lot of effort and responsibility, and those are the very same things she avoids like the plague.)

The promise of her new home distracts her from the straight-from-the-train eerie feeling that seems to be telling her to stay in this town and leave at the same time.

From the quiet town of Lima, Ohio, Rachel is now staying in the equally quiet town of Lima, New York. Rachel has secretly dreamed to be a superstar, and she believes she has the talent to be one, but she has also resigned to the fact that it's not going to happen.

She's admittedly too lazy to function and the hard work it entailed for previous superstars to get where they are now is making Rachel dizzy. If she's going to be famous, it has to be because of sheer dumb luck and not hard work. And that doesn't happen all the time so she's kind of screwed.

She has taken her friend Brittany's offer to be a talent in a local radio show because this is the only job offer she has now that actually coincides with what she wants in life. If she can't be a superstar, at least she can be a radio actress. That's more than some aspirants will ever be.

(Also it's the one that screams the least responsibility.)

Lima is one of the smaller and less popular places in New York City, but this is a start and everyone has to start somewhere. Or so she tells herself, forcing herself to be determined, even if she isn't sure about what to do with her life anymore.

She spends the next few hours unpacking her things – the guitar her creepy ex-suitor Sam has given, a huge stack of lyric sheets, a few photos with her fathers and high school buddies, Brittany and Santana and her best friend, Tina.

She lets out a fond smile as she stares at a framed picture of her and Tina. They're inside the Glee room, and Tina's trying to rouse a sleeping Rachel using a hula-hoop. Mike was definitely taking the photo.

As crazy and moody as her friend can be, Rachel is genuinely happy that she has been introduced to Tina Cohen-Chang sometime in her life. Her Asian – as what she fondly calls her – is one of those incredibly underrated and underappreciated people. Tina barely had friends in high school for being an introvert, but when given the chance, she is actually the type of friend everyone in the world needs. She's silent most of the time but she's passionate, caring and supportive. She's cheerful, listens more than she talks – and when she does, the words she gives are the very same ones one would need at a certain time.

That is why even if they have completely different views about finding their soulmates and settling down, Rachel will never replace her for any friend in the world.

Her best friend has this eagerness to find her dominant even at a very young age. Since the third grade, Tina, whose cute little eyes would grow wide every time she talks about how one day the name of her dominant would be tattooed on her wrist, has always been unceasingly vocal about how she sees her life as a sub one day.

And she has found Mike in High School – the humble stud with the highest GPA and best dance moves in their batch. The two Asians started as rivals in their seventh year at William McKinley High School, but ended up falling with each other somewhere between their denial and playful banters. So when Mike's name appeared on Tina's left wrist one spring day, none of the girls were surprised and both were ecstatic.

At 23, Rachel, on the other hand, cannot for the life of her imagine herself being with or taking care of a submissive. Of the many things she is pessimistic about, this topic goes at the top of her list. It sounds like too much of a responsibility, and if there's one thing she hates more than animal cruelty, that's it.

She has gotten her dominant sign on her right wrist when she was six, but the name of her soulmate has never been inked on her left since then – a thing Rachel doesn't mind for the meantime.

She can't be a dominant yet, not only because she does not want to, but also because she knows she can't. Usually, the names appear between ages 15-20. There are some that come out between 20 and 22, and then very rarely after that.

There are several reasons for the delay of the sprouting of names: it's either a person's not ready for the bondage yet, or his/her soulmate has been stolen from him/her. Rachel's 99.7 percent sure her case was of the first and frankly, she couldn't be thankful that such condition exists.

If she wants to take care of a submissive, then she must be able to learn how to take care of a submissive. Frankly, Rachel isn't even good at taking care of herself. Having a submissive sounds too much of a responsibility. Besides, Rachel wants to focus on fixing and stabling her life first because she can help others.

Groaning as she tries to get herself to think of other things than her not-so-sure future, she begrudgingly stands up to check the rest of her awesome house.

/

Everything seemed fine – better than fine, even, because the house is truly beautiful – until she went out to see the little space between her new home and the three-storey mansion a few minutes later.

The not-so-normal feeling comes when the hairs at the back of her neck rise and her spine tingles while she's weirdly checking the soil.

The feeling that she's being watched from the mansion is so distinct – so overwhelming that she turns her head fast to one of the windows on the mansion's second floor. She doesn't remember feeling such strong sense of foreboding before, and it confuses her. She sees nobody watching, but the curtain on one of the windows is swaying.

Rachel's brows furrow. Of course, it's normal for a new neighbor to be secretly watching the new next-door-neighbor, but the tingling of her spine when she felt that person watching was of another level.

She fights off a shiver as she tries hard to shrug it off. Despite her obvious love for this house, she can't be certain of how to feel about the place as a whole yet. Though she is yet to explore the town, she can't seem to shake that eerie feeling that's pulling her in and pushing her away at the same time.

Maybe being in new places naturally gives people this effect, but Rachel is certain she has never felt this way in any other place before.

/

Rachel has been able to keep herself at bay for most of the day. And it makes her a little bit proud of herself.

Only when she lays on her bed that night, alone, does nostalgia hit here like a boss and she starts to truly feel the loneliness of being in a whole new place. Her bedroom was one of the best places in the house – but it's not her room – and it doesn't feel like yet. The anxiousness and excitement of the new day and of actually loving her new place vanishes as soon as she realizes that she's truly alone to take care of and fend for herself now.

Suddenly, despite her weak mental objection, memories of home fill her senses – she can almost take in the smell of her room and of her fathers' perfume. She realizes she will have to wait for a long while to get to smell them again. She has never really appreciated her fathers unconditional love until now that they're no longer just at the room next door.

Tears fall down from her eyes and her chest tightens. She feels like such a sissy, but she can't seem to stop her tears. Nobody can see anyway, so she has nothing to be ashamed of. She has been brave when she left home but she doesn't really think she can do this. While she has stayed in an orphanage until she was six, she has been treated like a princess by Daddy Leroy and Papa Hiram. They had cooked for her and did laundry for her all her life and she let them because she really didn't want to do those things herself.

Damn it. She's trying to be a responsible adult, and crying is out of the menu. First night out of the house and she's getting homesick as f*ck. She needs to get herself together. If she can barely stand one night away from her comfort zone, then she is not getting somewhere in life.

It takes her at least two hours to stop crying and be exhausted enough to actually want to fall asleep.

She does so to the comforting humming of the wind and the steady tick tock of the nearby clock. And to the thoughts of her fathers and their not-so-awful cooking, and of Tina, Santana and Brittany's voices.

Oh, how Rachel Berry loves the peace nighttime offers. And when all's tranquil and quiet, it'd be cool to just lie down and not do a single thing.

She hates distraction or irregularity because then there'd be something that would need fixing.

She can only hope that things wouldn't get too eventful while she's here.

/

Her first morning, on the other hand, is everything but uneventful.

She wakes up to loud, undiscernible yelling from the outside. Undiscernible, mostly because it's 6 o'clock in the morning and Rachel only bows down to her alarm clock, which she set at 8 a.m. today, as basis for when the day should start being discernible for her. Everything before that time is automatically alien.

(Three nights ago, she promised herself that she is waking 6 a.m. starting the next but she has balked to the idea ten hours after. The bed was designed to be so inviting).

The noise continues though, so, with brows crunching in confusion and annoyance – but mostly annoyance – she forces herself off of the bed. She has not allowed herself the liberty to wake up three hours after her usual call time today to have some idiot ruin it for her. She'll be starting to work on Monday, and one of her last two days of freedom from responsibility and of waking up late is ruined.

Freaking great.

She blindly hurries to the bathroom, knocking something along the way, to at least have a quick meet-up with at least the mouthwash (in case of emergencies) before she checks what's going on outside and see if there's anyone she has to take effort to kill.

But, the sight that meets her when she glances out the window only makes her heart pound in the bad way and her eyes widen.

On the neighbor's front lawn, a disgusting scene has been unfolding. To say Rachel is appalled would be a gross understatement.

A diminutive, curly-haired, douchebag-seeming dominant is yelling derogatory words to what seems to be his submissive as he drags her forcefully from the gate to the main door. On his right hand is a long whip.

Behind him, the thin, willowy woman is struggling to keep up with his strides and miserably failing, tripping from time to time. A black neck collar is binding them – and the man is pulling at it quite forcefully, much to the girl's discomfort. Rachel can't see much from this angle, but she can tell that the woman – blonde – isn't wearing slippers and is cradling her side like she's in severe pain.

And she must be, if the bruises Rachel can see marring her arms are any clue.

The small brunette sees red, as all thoughts of annoyance is replaced by anger. The girl is being abused, to put it bluntly, and it's something Rachel isn't going to take lightly. While quite notorious for being lazy, Rachel is also famous for being an overzealous advocate of human and animal rights.

Sure the girl's obviously his submissive – his pet, his slave or whatever word he'd like to use himself – but that doesn't give him the liberty to treat her less than he does a human being. Her present predicament seems to strike a cord deep within the confines of Rachel's chest, and the last thing on her mind is how big of a responsibility getting involved in their situation would be.

All she knows is that she feels so much need to stop them that it's painful. She needs to help the girl and she can feel that in her guts. Pronto.

She isn't going to be scared of that monkey because slaves have rights that keep them protected and she'll be damned if that blonde girl wouldn't get her share of that right.

/

Rachel is powerwalking down the hall, more than ready to give that curly-haired idiot a piece of her mind when she suddenly feels her arms being grabbed from both sides, then herself being not-so-gently and efficiently turned to the opposite direction.

What the-?

"A hot cup of coffee with the new nosy neighbor would be fine," said one of them in an accented voice. Rachel – through her struggling – glances at the owner of the voice – a tanned not-so-American-looking woman who's taller than her by at least four inches. To her right, a taller, paler woman is keeping her still.

"What the fuck! Put me down," she hisses at the both of them. "I have a mission and this is fucking kidnapping!"

Both women ignore her as they continue to drag her away from the mansion.

"What the hell are you doing," she demands further, trying harder to let loose from the tight grip but failing. These two are at least four inches taller than her and apparently have arms like iron. Are they the curly dumbass' minions? "I'm not kidding! Let me go!"

"We're just keeping a safe distance between you and imminent death, dumby," the tanned shorter brunette answers. "Stop struggling and just go with us. You obviously need an orientation of how things go around here."

They're true. She doesn't. She has been too lazy to care about the background of the new place she'll be moving to, but she doesn't care about that right now. There's a giant elephant in the room that demands to be talked about.

"But he's hurting her! You saw how he treats her? You heartless bitches, let me go!"

They both seem unaffected by the bitch comment – or at least that's what they want Rachel to think.

"All of us would regret it more if we let you do what you're about to do so please, for the sake of Jesus Christ the Son of Man, let us tell you some of the most important things about this place first before we allow you to set foot on the battlefield," said the tanned lady once more. She seems to be the more vocally brutal of the two.

They just may have a point, so Rachel begrudgingly relents. She decides that her best course of action for now is to listen to them.

As she is being dragged away, she glances back at the idiot of a dominant and his submissive. He's just slapped her hard – and Rachel's breathe hitches as the girl falls on her knees once again. Both seem to not mind Rachel and the two clowns who's dragging her away, or the tall woman from the other street who pretended to not have seen the abuse that's happening right at her nose as she continues to jog.

As she is being dragged away, Rachel manages to notice some things that don't seem right: One of them was how Quinn's submissive and Jesse's dominant tags are placed at the back of their right hands and not on the wrist as what's usual.

The second and more disturbing thing is how everybody seems to see the obvious abuse at the house but doesn't do anything about it.

She's awestruck.

And right now, she doesn't think it's still her favorite word.