A/N. This is going to be dark in material for a while until we get to Quinntana goodness. It's different to anything I've written before. Hope it comes across the way I was intending. M for swears and sexual situations.
Save me From Myself.
Life's kind of funny when you think about it. I mean when you really take the time to see wade through all the bullshit. I can hide the dark parts of myself from the world whilst being able to call other people out on their untruths. I hide my true self in plain sight and no-one suspects a thing.
Except for her.
Sometimes I think she has me figured out. That she has managed to see what I have been concealing for the majority of my teenage life. See that I've fooled everyone into believing I'm normal. The fact that I'm insane, criminally insane to be real. Batshit fucking crazy. But that's cool, because the way I see it sanity is just madness put to good uses. I prefer to be bad; it's so much more fun, but that shit can only fly whilst I am under the radar. It can't be out in the open. Everything would be destroyed.
Shut the fuck up.
"No you shut the fuck up."
Who are you talking to? You look crazy
"You're making me look crazy."
I know. That's what's makes it so hilarious. You're starting to slip. The cracks are beginning to show. The mask is fading and there's nothing you can do to stop it. She's going to figure you out.
"She won't figure out shit. Stop talking to me. Not here. "
I can't do that. You know I can't. I am a part of you after all.
"You're not real."
If I'm not real, than neither are you. Perhaps that's your problem.
"Just shut up."
She's watching you.
I shake my head to clear the cloudiness in my head. The dark side of me has started creeping up into my day time thoughts and that scares me more than anything. To be found out. For people to know what I really am. It'd destroy me and my plan.
It's not like I stick out like a sore thumb. To everyone on the outside I'm just another pretty cheerleader in some buttfuck town in Ohio who's part of glee club. Yeah, I'm a real bitch and I ask for attention. If I was some loser weirdo sulking around in black and hiding in corners people would seek me out and my cover would be blown. That's why I call it hiding in plain sight. No-one at this school knows what I'm really capable of. What I'm planning for senior year.
I spent the majority of my summer reading stuff up online whilst getting stoned and getting drunk. If I was going to do this I'd have to do it right. There would be no room for error, or I'd find myself locked up in Lima County Jail with a heifer bulldyke for a roomie and a sudden fear of dropping the soap in the shower.
My problem is, there's this girl right? I'd say she was pretty much as close to a friend as I'd ever get. She thought we were normal besties linking pinkies in the hallway. She didn't realise that I had to operate alone, that our friendship was mostly a front. Still I was as fond of her as someone with my problems could be. Every couple of days I'd call her up and we'd fuck and for those few precious moments I'd forget about the dark and twisted plots in my mind. She almost made me a better person. Almost being the key word, as I am all kinds of fucked up that I really don't think I can make it back. The only other time my mind is free, is when I'm singing. Anyway, we're not dating. She actually has a cripple for a boyfriend and I can't let anyone get too close in case my crazy seeps through. Brittany is the only one I'd warn when the time came to it. She's my weak point.
Then there's Quinn Fabray. She was my one of a kind frenemy, ex HBIC and now some down and out full time member of 'The Skanks.' Seems she spent the summer having bad dye jobs, ironic tattoos and picking up a smoking habit. And I'm supposed to be the crazy one.
Since she's been all bad moody and out with the in crowd it's like she's become the loser loner kid that everyone's afraid of at school. She looks at me. I mean, a lot of people look at me because I'm hot shit, but this chick stares right through me. It looks as if I'm some kind of puzzle and she's trying to get the last piece to fit. She knows there's something off with me, I can feel it. That means she has to go. She needs to be eliminated before she exposes me. Nothing can get in the way of my plan. That reminds me. I haven't even told you what it is yet. How terribly rude of me.
I'm going to blow this place apart. Literally. Yeah you got it right. I am going to blow up the fucking school.
Mckinley High is going to eat dust along with everyone in it. This is the part where I ignore my heart and actually listen to the voices in my head.
But they're your friends
People like me don't have friends. We are born alone and we die alone. This shit isn't personal. It's a statement. A statement to how fucked up our society is. That society can create monsters just like me. People need to sit up and take notice. It's a warning.
"Santana."
I look up shocked at the intrusive voice. It's Schuester calling my name and by the look on his face it's not the first attempt to get my attention and I can feel the eyes of the rest of the room on me, making my neck prickIe. I glance distractedly at the clock on the wall noticing that I'd been lost in thought for the whole of glee club. It's been happening more often lately. It's starting to show.
"Sorry I was thinking."
He nods at me, concerned but he seems to pause only for a second before dismissing us. Nobody seems to be paying me much attention so I go to put my notebook in my bag and make to leave when I notice her. Quinn Fabray is starting through me from the doorway of the choir room. She's giving me that look again. I wipe the back of the hand against my sweaty forehead and grip my notebook tightly.
You're losing it Lopez.
I swallow the lump of nausea that had formed in the base of my throat as I broke my gaze away from the pink haired girl at the door and looked down at what I had written whilst in my 45 minute mind coma.
This shit isn't personal
This shit isn't personal
This shit isn't personal.
This shit isn't personal.