A/N: For anyone who's read my other story, Santana's Story, I'm sorry I've left it hanging, I forgot my account details and only just got new ones, but now I've lost the other chapters so I'm having to rewrite them, plus I have alot of shit going on in my life right now, as well as all of my Highers to sit, so I know it's been forever, but I promise I'll try and update as soon as I can. I'm sorry guys, I hope I can be forgiven XD
Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or anything Glee related other than this story. If I did, it'd basically be The Brittana Show ;)
I know it's from a really old storyline, but the idea just came to me, and to make up for my other story I decided to post this one as a sort of peace offering :/ Hope you guys still enjoy (reviews are great) :P
Brittany watched as Quinn and Santana started fighting in the middle of the corridor. "Stop the violence!" she called out, hoping her two best friends would hear her and stop fighting, but either they hadn't heard or they were choosing to ignore her, continuing with their fight.
Brittany hated violence. She hated it more than she ever hated anything else in the world. Her hate of it compared to her love for ducks, Unicorns, and of course Santana. Brittany's hatred and fear of violence all stemmed from when she just a child, and watched her father physically abuse her mother, for 7 years until her mother finally worked up the courage to leave him, thankfully taking Brittany with her. Seeing Quinn and Santana just brought it all back to her, and she pushed her way out of the knot of students that had gathered to watch, tears forming in her eyes.
There was a funny smell in the air around Daddy, she could smell it from here. Daddy was angry at Mummy, but Brittany didn't know why. She could hear them shouting from her bed, that's why she quietly crept out into the hall to sit on the stairs. Their arguing made her tummy hurt, and she wanted to yell, and tell them to stop. Their voices were louder, and louder, and Brittany could see them through the banister. They were standing extremely close to each other, and Brittany wondered why they had to yell so loud. Just as she was thinking that there was a high pitched sound; the sound of flesh hitting flesh. That was the first time she saw her dad strike her mum. Her mummy fell to the ground when he hit her again, and her eyes met with Brittany's from where she lay on the ground. Frightened, Brittany scurried back into her room and jumped under her covers, heart pounding.
Brittany sat in the empty choir room, crying. She had been three years old when it began. It continued for many years, and Brittany had soon realized the "funny smell" was alcohol. Her father drank alot, and often his drinking was accompanied by another night of fighting and hitting Brittany's mum yet again. He always said he'd stop, and never do it again. He lied.
"Where have you been?" Brittany's dad questioned her mum when she walked in the door.
"I was kept late at work. I'm sorry" Mrs Pierce replied quickly.
"And you couldn't have called, huh? Brittany had Santana over, I had to deal with that. I had to make her dinner. I had to see to it she done her homework. I had to get her ready for bed. All because you worked late" Mr Pierce sneered.
Brittany crept into the hall when she heard voices.
"I-I'm sorry, my phone died, and, and the boss was in a bad mood, and-"
Mr Pierce cut his wife off. " Oh, that's okay then, isn't it? Your boss was in a bad mood. Well that makes all the difference, doesn't it? Well guess what? Your boss may have been in a bad mood, but guess my mood when I came home today to find the house empty, then had to deal with our brat and her friend?"
Mrs Pierce took a step back, apprehensive, as her husband raised his hand. Brittany knew what was coming. She closed her eyes and turned away, feeling sick, and listened to the sound of the blows, to her mum's cries, and to her dad's wordless, angry shouting.
In the morning her mum's eyes were red from crying, shadowed, and her body badly bruised, new over old. "I'm fine" she told her 6 year old, another parent who lied.
The bell rang shrilly, startling Brittany from her thoughts. She quickly wiped at her eyes, furiously trying to erase the fact that she'd been crying, as Rachel skipped into the room, first as always.
"Are you okay Brittany?" the brunette asked, looking at her in concern. Brittany just nodded, not trusting her voice. As the rest of the Glee members entered the room in various different groups and pairings they all looked at Brittany weirdly, but for some reason Rachel distracted them all, which Brittany was thankful for. The last into the room was Quinn and Santana, who immediately saw her best friend was upset and hurried to her.
"What's wrong Britt?" she asked, worry lacing her voiced and facial expression.
Brittany looked up at her, eyes filling with tears again. "You and Quinn were fighting" she whispered, as the tears spilled over and she started sobbing.
Santana glanced behind her at Quinn, who just shook her head and shrugged her shoulders. Santana instantly began to feel angry at herself for making Brittany upset, even if she didn't mean to.
"C'mere" she stood up with Brittany, pushing past Mr Schue in the doorway.
"Girls" he stated in surprise, but let them pass when he saw the state his usually happy and bubbly member of the club was in. Santana sat with Brittany in the corrider, hugging her and whispering soothing words, trying to help the blonde, still bewildered what was up.
This time Brittany knew it was coming. Her dad had lost his job and had come home in a terrible rage, and had been drinking ever since. Mrs Pierce tried to occupy Brittany, keeping her out of the way, but Brittany still knew. By now it become almost a nightly routine of her sneaking out to the stairs after she had been put to bed and the fighting began. She was 8, and still terrrified. This wasn't right, she knew. She had to keep quiet, she knew. She couldn't even tell Santana. Her mum would hide her bruises, wearing long sleeves and trousers, or putting on make-up, but Brittany could still see them. She became terrified of her father, avoiding him as much as possible.
"Lets leave" she told her mum, time and time again. "Just run away, and find somewhere new."
"Honey" her mother would sigh, stroking Brittany's hair. "It's not that simple."
These are the words Brittany found herself repeating to Santana now, all these years later. "It's not that simple" she choked out inbetween sobs. "Try me" Santana replied. And so Brittany did. Finally, Brittany told somebody, starting at the beginning that first night when she was three, until the last night when she was ten.
It was dark. And late. Brittany wasn't asleep yet, the fighting had just stopped. They'd been in their bedroom this time, and she heard her father leave the house, door slamming, and his heavy footfalls down the path. Then, her mother came for her. In the slice of moonlight through the crack in the curtains Brittany saw her mother's face, tear streaked, swollen, and bloody. She gasped.
"Shh" her mother soothed her, turning on the nightlight.
She began packing things into Brittany's yellow suitcase, the one with the ducks on it. Brittany watched in silence, getting dressed when her mother told her to, and helping when she could, collecting her toys and clothes. She was ten that night when they left. They got in the car and never went back. Things got better. Her mother's bruises gradually faded, her bones mended, the cuts scarred over and eventually disappeared, and things were so much better.
For six years now things have been better. But Brittany still hates violence.