So this is My first Fanfiction. It took me awhile to come up with the idea. I hope you like it. Please review and give me you're opinion and whether or not I should continue or not. So I let you read now.

Disclaimer: I don't own Glee...sadly...

Prologue: Fairy Tales are just bedtime stories

Everyone has their favorite fairytale; the story of a girl in a bad situation trying to make the best of it; getting saved by a prince charming of some kind. They always have a happy ending. Well guess what; they're just stories. There are no happy endings. There is no savior in real life. They are just fairy tales! No one will save you; no one will take you away from the shit life you have; no one will be there for you… I am the perfect example of that.

My name is Santana Maria Lopez. I'm 16 years old and I've been in the foster care system since I was 7. I used to live with my mother which was okay…when she was sober. My mother had an addiction to cocaine. Due to her addiction we had to constantly moving around to avoid child services. She tried hard to be a good mother. I remember she used to read to me every night when I was little. She'd make sure I ate; made sure I had a place to sleep at night, and made sure I had clean clothes. She tried her best but unfortunately, her problem got the best of her. When I turned 5 the state finally caught up with her and took me away.

They sent me to live with my father. My father was a…difficult man. He didn't like the fact that I was his kid. He had ten DNA test taken and all of them were positive. He hated me. I was a burden on him. He used to hit me…a lot. Since I was so young I thought I had done something wrong. He hit me religiously. If I looked at him wrong, If I did something slow, If I was just doing nothing. He never needed a reason. It went on for a long time.

I used to get supervised visits with my mom. It was the best time of the month. I used to look forward to it. I'd wear the prettiest thing I could find. I'd hopped into car of whoever was taking me to her. I could never wait to head to that little apartment right outside of New York City. I used to hop outside the car and jump right into my mother's arms. I always knew my mother loved me and she would never hurt me but I couldn't stay with her. My mother had a tendency to relapse. She'd stay clean for 3-4 months and then revert back to bad habits. So, I couldn't stay with her. I could only stay with my abusive father.

On my seventh birthday, my mother showed up at my father's house. She was in the middle of a detox. I remember only hearing yelling. My parents were fighting. They had never gotten along and my father made sure that she wasn't allowed to see me when I was at his house.

"I want to see my baby," My mother screamed at him. "I want to see my little Tana!" I remember wanting to run to her and go with her but my father was spiteful. He told her no and that she had to go away. I hid on the top of the stairs watching the whole seen. I remember my mom was shaking and sweating. She just wanted to see me. "Just for two minutes, please," She said. "I just want to tell her; I'm going to stay clean this time so I can take her back." She said.

It really upset my father. He didn't like to have his authority challenged. He hit her in the stomach. She tumbled backwards. I became paralyzed in fear. I couldn't move. He continued to beat her. She tried to fight him at first but at one point…she just went limp. I ran to the back to my room grabbing the phone on the way. I crawled into the closet and closed it and locked it. I called 911. They were there in minutes but it felt like hours. I didn't hear when they came but they came looking for me. At first I thought it was my father coming to finish me off. However when they got the door open; the police officer was a bit of a relief to me.

"Are you okay sweetie?" She asked. I shook my head slowly. "What's your name?"

"Santana," I answered.

"Santana, that's a pretty name." She smiled. "I'm going to pick you up okay Santana?" I again complied with nod of my head. She picked me up. She took me out of the room and then out of the house. There were cops everywhere and an ambulance. I remember holding tightly to the officer. She held me in the front of the squad car with her.

When we got to the station, she took me to her desk. She told me she was going to ask me some questions but she was going to have to wait until a woman from child services came. She sat at the desk with me until the social worker came.

She asked me in great detail what happen and I answered with no problem. When the questions were done; I began asking where my mother was. No one would answer me not even the nice police officer. That night, I was told I was going with one of the officer for a night by the worker. I went home with the nice officer, Ms. Jennifer. She was going to take care of me until they could figure what to do with me. When I got to her little apartment she let me sleep in her big bed while she slept on the couch. I cried myself to sleep that night.

The next morning, I woke up I crept to the door and overheard the conversation between Ms. Jennifer and her superior. They were discussing my mother's death and how they were going to tell me. I was heart-broken. They were going to let my father off of the murder charges until Ms. Jennifer gave me a bath and found all the bruises on my body. They immediately kept me away from my father. That's when I was put into the foster care system.

Since then, I've been in 33 homes in 12 different states. I've been to 38 different schools since I was seven. I've never been in one place to long. Not many people want me for long. I'm a problem child. I drink, I smoke, I stay out for long periods of time, I don't listen to authority, I fight, I yell, I use vulgar language and I have a tendency not to get along with people I live with.

At 16, I'm in Lima, Ohio. I live with my new foster mother Sylvia Del Cid. We live in Lima Height Adjacent. I share a house with her, 3 other girls and 5 boys. We are all the kids that no one else wants. Sylvia gets paid extra for each of us; which is the only thing that matters to her. She doesn't care what we do just as long as we put on a show for the social worker. We agree to it because we hate moving around and most of us are planning on getting out of here when we turn eighteen. I'm the only one in the house that doesn't attend a reforming school. I will be attending William McKinley High School. The only reason; I want to make something of myself. I don't want to be crap for the rest of my life. If there is no savior for me at the end of the road I have to be my own. You can't have the fairy tale life…You can only have what you take.

So what do you think? Do you like it? Should I continue? Give me you thoughts. I'd love to hear them I'm really eager for criticism. Please review.