Hey peoples! This is my first glee story, so dont hate if it sucks! Im not really sure where i got the idea for this story, but its kinda dark...

It was happening again. She didn't know if it was an old piece of clothes or even a piece of paper with her name on it that had made him remember this time. All she knew was that she wished that she could be anywhere but here. But the only escape she had was into her mind. As hard as she tried to forget about the pain that was shooting through her body, she couldn't. The blows were just too hard this time. Her body ached and so did her heart to know that there was nothing that she could do to stop him. She knew this would make her hurt more, but she couldn't help it. She had to try at least. In a whisper, she said, "PapĂ­, please. Stop."

He looked down at her and scoffed, "Now why would I do that? This is your fault. It's your fault that she left. You're a worthless little bitch. She didn't want to be around you anymore. Hell, who would?" He kicked her in the side for the final time, satisfied that his daughter had gotten his message. Turning on his heel, he walked away and into his room. As he was about to close the door, he turned and looked at his daughter, crumpled into a heap on the floor, and said with a sickly smile on his face, "Goodnight, mija."

As the door slammed behind him, Santana felt herself relax for the first time in what felt like forever. She knew that he was done for the night; therefore, she would be able to sleep. Trying as hard as she could to ignore the immense amount of pain in her abdomen and just about everywhere else on her body, she crawled slowly to her bed. Carefully pulling herself up, she gingerly lifted up her shirt to see her stomach; there where already dark purple bruises forming there. "Shit," she cursed to herself. Letting the shirt fall, she looked at her arms. They were littered with dark blue and purple bruises from where her father had grabbed her and thrown her into her room earlier that night.

Sighing, Santana pushed herself onto her bed as she started to think about the life she had before everything went to hell. Her mom was still here. Her dad didn't beat the shit out of her almost every night. She was best friends with Brittany. Even though she acted like she didn't care about school, she still had straight A's. She was still a bitch, but had started to act civil towards the rest of the glee club. But then, her mom just left. There wasn't any reason or warning. She just packed up all of her things, got in her car and left her husband and daughter behind.

Santana's father had been devastated. He would drink until he could barely stand. Santana tried to stay out of his way when this happened, but sometimes she just couldn't. One night, she came down stairs from her room because she was going to a party at Puck's house. The glee club had just won Regionals, so he had decided that it was cause for a good, alcohol induced celebration.

As she walked down the stairs as quietly as she possibly could, her phone slipped out of her hand and down the carpeted steps. Silently cursing herself for her stupidity of not sticking it in her pocket, she descended the rest of the stairs, only to find her father at the bottom.

"Where do you think you're going?" he growled at her. It was clear that he had had his fair share of drinks just from the way his words had slurred together. He looked angry, as if Santana had challenged him.

Santana was quiet for a moment, thinking of a lie. However, that moment was too long for her father's liking. "I asked you a question! Where do you think you are going?" Santana could almost see the anger radiating off of her father as he screamed at her.

She flinched at his angry tone. "I, uh, Quinn's having a, uh, girls' night. With all of the girls from glee," Santana stuttered as she told her father the unconvincing lie. She knew this wasn't going to end well. He never liked it when she lied, but now his disappointment that was originally there was replaced by anger.

Her father took a step towards her, "You're lying," he said in a dangerously low voice. His hand clenched into a fist and started to shake. Santana took a step backwards, trying to put as much distance between her and her father as possible. As her back hit the wall, her father repeated, "Where do you think you're going?" This time when it was asked, it was threatening. As if he was daring her to move any more away from him. He stopped walking when he was an arm's length away from Santana.

Santana could see the veins sticking out of his neck and could hear his heavy breathing. His face was a bright red, but she couldn't figure out if it was from the alcohol or something else. Never before had she seen her father so angry. Sure, she had seen him throw a few plates around before when he had first realized that his wife had left him, but this was an entirely new level of anger. This was the "breaking furniture, smashing down doors, shattering windows" angry. Honestly, Santana was terrified.

"You know what I think? I think that you're going to go get drunk and go be the little slut that you are. You are a worthless piece of shit," he said to her, malice and fury dripping from his words. "That's why she left. She couldn't stand to be around you any longer. This is all. Your. Fault." He glared at Santana as if she were the scum of the earth and back handed her hard, sending her crashing into the stairs next to her.

She gasped in pain as her side crashed into the stairs. Bringing her hand up to her stinging cheek, she looked up at her father. There was no remorse or guilt on his features. Only hatred for the person he called his daughter. Santana could feel tears pricking her eyes, either from physical pain or the heart break she just endured from her father's words. Was that really what he thought of her? She couldn't bear to think that these words had just left the man that she had idolized when she was younger. The man who had gone to every one of her cheerleading competitions. Who had helped her learn to read music when she had joined glee. Who had hugged her after the New Directions lost at Regionals last year. Who had told her that she didn't need to get a boob-job to be beautiful. Who had told her she was perfect. Who had told her that she was loved. But now? Now he hated everything about her.

As she started to cry, she felt a hand under her arm, pulling her up again. Looking up at her father, the only things Santana could see in his eyes were fury and hatred. Quickly she closed her own, hoping that this was all a dream and that she would wake up at any moment. This can't be happening. Please don't be happening, she pleaded to herself. It felt as though everything was crashing down around her.

This small action sent even more waves of fury through her father. Once Santana was standing again, her father didn't hesitate to punch her in the stomach with so much force, that she was left gasping for air. Satisfied with his result, he punched her again. And again. And again. Until he lost count, and Santana was a crumpled heap on the floor. He looked down at the mass at his feet and spat, "You are such a disappointment," Kneeling down closer to his daughter, who was moaning softly in pain on the floor, he said in a dangerous voice, "If you tell anyone about this, you will be sorry. You will wish you had never been born." Slowly he stood up and walked down the hall back to his drink.

Santana didn't think that she had ever been in this much pain before. Her insides felt like they were on fire and her face was still stinging. She could already feel the bruises forming under her shirt. Slowly, she lifted her head up to see if her father was gone. The slight movement made her head spin. Oh shit, she internally moaned in pain.

It was highly unlikely that she would be able to stand up, let alone get back up the stairs and back into the safety her room. I have to at least try. I can't just lay here for him to come back, she thought to herself. She grabbed blindly for her phone with her left hand as she gripped the second step with her right and tried to push herself up on it. Her abdomen screamed in protest, but she did the best she could to ignore it. Gripping the railing, she half walked, half crawled up the stairs. At every step, she thought that she was going to fall back down.

Finally she reached the top of the stairs. Her bedroom door was within sight now. Come on, Santana! Move! Leaning heavily on the wall, she walked over to her bedroom. Carefully, she turned the handle and leaned against the door frame for support. Standing up as straight as she could, she walked to the desk close to her door, but not before closing and locking her door. Thank God, she thought as she leaned on her desk for support. Her head was spinning so much that she was starting to get nauseous. Her chest hurt every time she took a breath. Taking that final step and softly landing on her bed, she let out a shaky breath and closed her eyes. Whether it was from pain or sheer exhaustion, she was asleep almost immediately. Either way, she didn't notice her phone vibrate as she received a text from her best friend.

Britt (9:47 PM)

-where r u? i thot u left a half hour ago? im getting worried…

What did you think? R&R! if you review, you'll be my favorite person ever!