Author's Note: No copyright infringement intended.
This is my second story and the first multi-chapter one. I intend to finish it but please help me with your ideas and comments. Here goes…
Flashback 2011
For lack of better word, Santana is privileged; she's rich, popular, beautiful, sexy, talented and smart. But to be privileged has it disadvantages too.
She's materially spoiled to a fault due to her father's frequent absence at home. She's narcissistic and yet insecure, always trying to show off herself for fear of others seeing her flaws. She's feared by most students of McKinley but those who dared poke her walls would know she's as vulnerable as she's bitchy.
And the privileged girl would, of course like any other man, seek companionship with those who complement herself. `
Quinn and Santana are both privileged and power hungry whilst Quinn does it for she was raised to keep and meet standards, Santana did it, out of boredom (it was after all challenging to be the HBIC) and soon after did it for her protection, for those deep dark secrets she keeps.
Puck and Santana, the man-whore and the slut, they bond over the casualness of their ties. They find comfort in knowing they're both easy and badass. At the back of their heads, they both know they're just afraid of dealing with emotions because they knew they cannot handle it well enough for fear of getting hurt, them badass cowards.
Of course, there's Brittany. She's nothing like Santana. No, scratch that, she's nothing like the Santana everyone else knows. In Brittany, Santana finds the hope left in Pandora's Box. She's not such a bad person, that much she knows and Brittany's the only person that can affirm it so.
Santana is an exquisite glass piece, strikingly beautiful and shaped intricately, too intricate for reality and indeed it is too good to be true. She's only held composed by the constant that is Brittany until a few days ago…
"I love you and I want to be with you… Please say you love me back."
"Yeah, well, who would have thought being fluid can make you feel so stuck."
Lines reverberated in her mind. Confessions she never expected to be rejected. Every night after that confrontation in their lockers, tears flow down her dark brown eyes. It was a sickening sight because the crying Santana would usually create a scene with hysterics for being drunk or just depressed over loosing tanning privileges.
But here is Santana, alone in her dark room, stuck in one side of her queen sized bed, clutching her knees as she cries in utter silence. Tired of keeping herself upright, she would then drop into fetal position until she falls asleep. If she were lucky enough, her fatigue will give in to deep slumber but most of the time, she wasn't so lucky; she would fall into the same nightmare each and every night.
In that nightmare, Santana would always open her eyes to find a vast empty space. At first, there was no sound in that middle of nowhere she was in and then the soft weeping sound of a flute would steadily increase until its beat would match that of the lone listener.
The somber tune would invade Santana's mind; she'd writhe in agony as she sleeps but she can never make herself get up. She could only jolt herself awake only when the song stops...usually at the break of dawn.
Ok, folks, I made this prologue back during S2 specifically the Hurt Locker Scene. I actually forgot the goal of this story but I thought I should put out there nonetheless. Hopefully, I get inspired again or something. Hope you enjoyed it. Peace out.
XOXO