Author's Note: This is my very first fanfic! Yay! I've read tons but haven't written one until now, so please go easy on me. I was only just introduced to fanfiction about 6 months ago, so I'm sorry if I'm doing something wrong. This story is Faberry (and maybe some other pairings) and I have no idea how long it's going to be but I do know where I want it to go. Rachel is going to be out of character in this story, as for the rest of the Glee characters, I will try and keep them the same. So without further ado, My Sunshine

When I woke up this morning, I expected the worst. I've always expected the worst ever since I learned that I was different from everyone else. But I don't mean the usual different, if there even is such a thing; I mean the 'really different'. The spectacularly fucked up kind of different. The kind that changed my entire life.

I, Rachel Barbra Berry, used to be an outgoing, opinionated diva that was often labeled 'annoying' by her fellow classmates. At the time I didn't understand why people thought I was annoying. I mean sure, I had a tendency to ramble, was painfully enthusiastic and always wanted the solos in Glee club but I didn't think that translated into annoying. Boy was I kidding myself. Looking back now I don't know how people could even stand to be around me. If, by some miracle, my personality wasn't off-putting enough, my wardrobe would have picked up the slack. Seriously, those hideous sweaters, knee high socks and semi revealing skirts, ugh. What was I thinking? I can't really blame the students who threw slushies in my face on a daily basis, I kind of deserved it.

But I digress; my point is I'm not the same person I used to be. I'm more guarded, apathetic, skeptical, and not to mention better dressed (thank God). And it's all because I'm different.

Oh the things I would give to be a 'normal' kind of different. To have arms of different lengths, or to be colorblind. What's that saying about not knowing what you had until it's gone? Well that's how I feel about my life. Though it was far from perfect I at least knew what was going on, unlike now, I knew who to trust and who to avoid. I had two dads who loved me unconditionally, and didn't cringe every time I had a bad day. I had my whole life planned out, and now? Now, I try not to think past the current day.

I wish there was someone or something to blame for my, uh, condition, but to be honest I don't even know where it originated from. All that I know for sure is that it's a major pain in my ass! Do you realize how difficult it is to try and keep your emotions in check 24/7? It's damn hard! Especially for Rachel Barbra Berry. Conversations gone awry can lead to broken objects. Fear can lead to entire rooms being rearranged, and anger can lead to injured people. All of which have happened at one time or another.

I suppose I could place the blame on the girl who brought my condition to the surface, the one who made me realize exactly how different I am; the captain of the Cheerios and HBIC of McKinley High School.

I remember it like it happened yesterday. It was my junior year on a Monday, a week before we got out for Winter Break and I was in my normal attire, meaning an unsightly sweater and a little skirt with my hair pulled back in a headband. I was in an uncharacteristically bad mood due to the news I'd just received from my fathers that they wanted to move down south because of a job opportunity for daddy. Being the diva I was, I stormed out and didn't even wait for them to finish explaining that we wouldn't be moving until after I graduated. Oops.

So I arrived at school, already upset, and was met with a slushie to the face at my locker. On a normal day I could have reined in my emotions long enough to make it to the safety of a bathroom but that day was not normal. Not only was I still pissed about the conversation that took place earlier that morning, but it was also that time of the month for me.

I slowly wiped my eyes of the drink that was beginning to sting them and felt the anger bubble inside me. Why me? What did I do to deserve this kind of treatment? I thought to myself. Once I got most of the slushie from my eyes I opened them only to be met with the unmistakable red and white uniform of a Cheerio. A closer look revealed the owner of that uniform to be none other than Kitty Wilde, Head Cheerio and HBIC. She had an empty cup in her hand and a scowl on her face.

This was new to me.

No, not being slushied, but the look she was giving me. I was used to seeing smirks or hearing laughter after a slushie attack, but never had I seen anger. Kitty looked like she was about two seconds away from hitting me…and then precisely two seconds later I felt a stinging sensation on my left cheek. At first I didn't register what happened. Gradually I heard 'ohhs' coming from all around me and the stinging feeling changed to burning. Whether it was from the pain or from anger I don't know, but the next thing I knew Kitty was in my face yelling at me.

I wasn't listening as she yelled, what was running through my mind was, I just got slapped. Kitty Wilde hit me… in front of the whole school. And now she's yelling at me and no one is doing anything to stop it. It was in that moment that I felt pure rage, and not just towards Kitty. It was directed at everyone. Everyone who gathered around to watch out of interest or curiosity; everyone else who turned a blind eye to what was happening right in front of their face; and all the teachers who pretended bullying didn't exist at McKinley and that students just enjoyed being showered in cold drinks.

"-and if you ever try that crap again I will end you!" I heard Kitty finish.

To this day I still have no idea what Kitty was talking about but those last words sparked something inside me. I felt a sudden jolt. It was similar that feeling you get when you're dreaming and fall off something but then wake simultaneously as you hit the ground. That's what I felt, but on the inside.

The last thing that went through my mind before my life completely changed was, I'm about to hit the HBIC.

My hand twitched at my side, balling in and out of a fist, as I prepared to raise it. I had a glare on my face that could have given Kitty's a run for her money. All my focus was on her mouth, which was right where I wanted to hit her. None of that girlie slapping bullshit, I wanted to full on punch her.

The very moment I decided to fully raise my fist something strange happened. Out of nowhere the locker Kitty was standing by flew open, hitting her directly in the face.

Kitty stumbled backwards, clutching at her face with wide eyes. She slowly removed her hands from her mouth and noticed the blood there, the shock evident on her face. A split second later her expression changed to one of anger.

"You're gonna regret that," she growled before taking a menacing step forward.

Once again just a second before I raised my fist (I was still fuming and had every intention of hitting her, even after the rogue locker incident) another locker jerked open, and then another. And then all the lockers on the row opened. I heard gasps from all the students who were gathered around us. I glanced at Kitty, who looked just as surprised as the others, and then quickly turned my attention back to the lockers. Not only did they suddenly open, but they were also moving around on their hinges. It appeared as if a strong wind was coming down both ends of the hallway and the lockers were fighting on which way to blow but the wind was blowing equally as strong from both ends and they were in a stalemate, only moving about an inch to either side.

As I, and every other student within viewing range, continued to stare at the lockers with slack jaws, I rapidly became aware of my body and how tense it'd grown since the slap. My arms felt like they weighted a ton and my head seemed like it was too big for my body and would roll off my shoulders at any moment. I couldn't even feel my legs and there was an odd tingling in my stomach.

Unexpectedly a gruff voice sounded from behind me, and I quickly spun around. Abruptly the lockers stopped shaking and I heard a man ask, "What's going on over here?"

The last thing I remember was the feeling of being stuck in quicksand and unable to move. After that it was all black.

I was later told I had fainted at the feet of the principle. How embarrassing.

After that I knew I was different, I knew that I was the cause of what happened in the hallway that day, and not a random breeze as other students seemed to think. Kitty never said anything to me after that. I still received glares in the halls and from across the cafeteria, but apart from that we had no contact. I suspect she knew that it was me as well but didn't say anything to anyone in fear of not being believed.

In the weeks following what I dubbed 'the incident', I did tons of research in hope of figuring out exactly what happened that day. I eventually came to the conclusion that I was telekinetic and could move objects without touching them. Everything I read about it fit perfectly with what happened with the incident. Intense emotions, a shock traveling through the body, what happens when concentration is broken. It all made sense, every last bit of it.

Once I knew what happened and how it happened, I started trying to keep my emotions in check. It seemed like since I figured it out though, everything felt more extreme. Like when I should have been happy, I was ecstatic, and when I should have just been irritated, I was infuriated. It was like all my emotions were taken and multiplied by 100, which made it that much harder to control them.

One day during the spring, I lost control again. It was the only other time it happened since the incident, and it happened right in front of my dads. We were sitting around the dinner table eating vegan lasagna, and daddy commented about my change in attitude.

At this point it had been over three months since the incident, and my attitude had definitely changed. Before the craziness began I used to be longwinded, I could take a simple 'yes or no' answer and turn it into a verbal essay. Afterwards I was simple and direct, straight to the point. I also used to be cheerful and positive, always looking for the silver lining in things, but afterwards I was bordering on cynical. On the plus side of my changes, I got an entirely new wardrobe; no more repulsive sweaters and short skirts for me. In their place were 'normal people' clothes, as some kid so delicately put it. I wore the standard dark colored skinny jeans, and form fitting tee-shirts with a leather jacket thrown over it. I almost never straightened my hair anymore; instead I left it in its natural curl. Only a blind and deaf person wouldn't notice how my entire demeanor changed, and daddy was neither of those things.

"Are you okay sweetie? You've seemed a bit off lately," daddy said to me from across the table.

I glanced up from my lasagna and gave him a weak smile, "I've just been feeling a little sick," I lied, hoping he'd let it go.

He looked to dad with an unreadable expression on his face as they silently conversed. After a few moments they both looked to me. Shit.

"Are you sure sweetheart? You've been off for a while now, a few months actually. Did something happen? Is there something you want to tell us?"

Remember how I said all my emotions were intensified? Well at that moment I should have felt annoyed because daddy wouldn't drop the subject, but thanks to my condition I was quickly getting angry.

Calm down Rachel, rein it in. This is nothing to get upset over. He's just worried about you. Deep breaths Rachel think about Barbra in Funny Girl. Think happy thoughts.

Unfortunately, thinking about Barbra only made things worse.

That's the kind of life I'll never have! My dreams of Broadway have vanished! I'll never be able to get up on stage and perform now, not with all this shit happing to me.

I carelessly threw my fork onto the plate and sat up straighter, eyeing my fathers.

"What do you mean 'off'?" I questioned defiantly. Damn it Rachel, shut up!

Dad took over the line of questioning. "What he- um we, mean is you seemed to changed quite a bit over the last few months," he said cutting his eyes over to daddy briefly before looking back at me.

"You're just different is all, your hair, your clothes, your behavior. It's all changed and without a notable cause."

Okay Rachel, this could quickly get out of hand. Don't say anything else, just excuse yourself from the table and go to your room. Yes, it will hurt them right now but in the long run it's best.

"So, what? I need an excuse now as to why I decided to stop dressing like a ten year old? I need a reason why I prefer my hair curly instead of straight? There has to be something wrong because I finally realized how fucked this world is and how pointless it is to be try and be hopeful!" Shit. Too much. Should have walked out.

I had gradually shifted forward to where I was leaning over my forgotten lasagna and my voice had rose considerably since the start of my mini rant. (It seemed some things didn't change)

My dads just stared at me, disbelief written all over their faces. I sat there willing myself to calm down.

Dad recovered first and spoke up. "Rachel Barbra Berry! You know we do not tolerate that kind of language in this household! What has gotten into you?"

Oh crap. There's that jolt again.

"How dare you ask what's gotten into me as if it's something I can control," I yelled. Suddenly the dishes on the table began to shake. Or maybe it was the table that was moving…either way my fathers' looks of surprise morphed into ones of confusion and then fear.

I imagine my expression must have been frightening on its own, but couple that with the shaking objects and they were probably downright terrified.

I banged my fists down on the table and the plates rose. With alarmed eyes my dads watched the china float overhead and then be slung into the wall. I no longer felt like myself. I felt like I was having an out-of-body experience, watching someone else take control of my body and do with it what they pleased. My limbs had the same feeling as the first time, my arms heavy and my legs nonexistent.

"If I could control this don't you think I would?!" Another dish rose and flew into the wall. Daddy flinched closer to dad and grabbed his hand.

"Rachel," daddy started to say but trailed off when he realized there was nothing he could say in this particular situation to make things better.

I stared at my fathers as they shrank into each other, terrified of their own daughter. I felt a pang of guilt at the sight and my anger slowly slipped away, only to be replaced by remorse.

I spent the next hour and a half apologizing profusely and explaining what I could to my fathers. Strangely they took it well. After the initial shock of it wore off, they seemed to accept my condition. They definitely didn't like it, but they did accept it. They also told me that they loved me no matter what but I couldn't help but notice how they both flinched before they drew me into a hug.

After that ill-fated spring day, I started having more outbursts; my emotions continually got the best of me. People around school started to notice the strange things that happened around me and avoided me like the plague. All sorts of rumors spread (though I didn't most of them) about me and how much of a freak I was. Truthfully I was, to a certain extent, glad people left me alone. I no longer had to deal with slushie facials or the unavoidable explosions that accompanied them. Everything was beginning to smooth out for me…until the new kid showed up.

The strangest thing about the new kid (besides his abnormal mouth to face ratio) was the fact that I was attracted to him, and no not in the way you're thinking. I'm not even into guys like that.

What I mean is, whenever he's around I feel something pulling at me. Something telling me he's different, maybe even like me.

He was my assigned lab partner in physics (because my old lab partner dumped me after all the rumors started) and he introduced himself as Sam. He was a good guy from what I could tell; he wasn't the brightest and he did horrible imitations of celebrities, but overall he seemed decent. Besides the peculiar pull I felt towards him, there was something else odd about him. He seemed to always be watching me, whether it was head-on or out of the corner of his eye. He also seemed to always know where I was when I felt a sudden burst of emotion. He would come out of nowhere and do shitty impressions to make me laugh or at least calm me down. For that I was thankful and decided to accept his friendship and not push him away.

Big mistake, no gigantic mistake, wait, no, colossal mistake.

I feel like such an idiot now because I didn't realize something was up sooner. I should have known from the way he was always watching me. If I had put two and two together sooner I wouldn't be where I am at this moment, reflecting on all the things that have happened to lead up to this point.

Here I am, sitting in the back of a creeper van with handcuffs on my wrists and some sort of sedative coursing through my veins. Sam is up front driving, casting wary glances in the rearview mirror, trying to explain to me why this had to be done.

I tune him out.

Instead I keep playing back everything that happened in the last 15 minutes in my head.

All the yelling I did when my fathers announced that Sam was taking me away; the guilt ridden faces of my fathers as tears streamed from my eyes and down my cheeks. The distinctive jolt I felt before everything in our living room began flying around; the sudden fog that overwhelmed my senses before I fell limply into Sam's arms. The feeling of being half carried half dragged out to the van where I helplessly watched as my daddy leaned dejectedly onto my dad's shoulder and cried, and as Sam quietly assured them that I would be taken care of.

I feel my butt starting to fall asleep so I shift slightly. Sam takes it as invitation to begin talking again.

"How are you feeling Rachel? Are you okay," he inquires.

That was probably the dumbest thing he's ever asked, so I don't even feel inclined to respond.

Of course I'm not okay! I've just been drugged and kidnapped! God Sam, I knew you weren't Einstein but seriously? I think to myself. This must be a new record for most stupid question asked.

We ride in silence for another 20 minutes before I decide to take the plunge.

"Where are we going," I ask bitterly.

Sam pulls up to a stoplight and turns around in his seat to face me. With a small smile on his face he replies, "Somewhere people like us belong." And with that he turns back around and continues driving.

Well I've always expected the worst ever since I discovered my condition. But I never in a million years would have expected this.

A/N: So how'd I do for my first chapter? Feedback would be appreciated, it can be ideas for future chapters, critiques (but no flames), or just a simple 'good job'. Anything would help.

Also I plan on having the Glee characters all have some sort of 'power'. Any suggestions would be great. I've got some ideas, but if yours are better I might just steal them(:

Until next time.