The Fanatic

Chapter 1

Infatuation

"I desire to be with you. I miss you. I feel lonely when I can't see you. I am obsessed with you, fascinated by you, infatuated with you. I hunger for your taste, your smell, the feel of your soul touching mine."

— Jack Llawayllynn

Disclaimer: I don't own glee.

A/N: I decided to rewrite this fic because I wanted to make it better. Please enjoy! BTW this takes place in New York City

Throwing quick, precise punches onto a beat up punching bag allows a girl to temporarily relieve herself of the frustration plaguing her mind. Throwing jab after jab helps herself let go of the uninhibited anger coursing through her veins. An anger that came from her feeling a lack of accomplishment. She had attended the training facility for one year and felt as though she should have achieved more during her time there. She was extremely ambitious. So extreme to the point that some people believed she would eventually begin to detest herself if she failed to reach her unbelievably high standards. During her schooling she tried restlessly to reach these standards. She would study until dawn, condition her body until she could barely move, and maintain an above average social life. There was no doubt that she would be the top student. She was. It was difficult for the girl to continue devoting her life to a rigorous schedule; but she persevered. Not because she wanted to. It was simply because if people assumed that she was perfect they wouldn't notice that there was something off about her. Something no one knew about. She was fragile. Underneath her hard exterior shell was a girl that lacked confidence and self respect. A girl who had grown up too quickly and was never allowed to grow into a confident young woman. She appeared confident but she definitely was not.

Growing up hadn't been a walk in the park for her. She was constantly teased, ridiculed, and ostracized. She was different and her life was difficult because of it. She was a latina. That in itself wasn't a problem. The problem was that she had grown up in a primarily white neighborhood; the suburbs. There, everything was the same. All of the lawns were immaculately trimmed, the houses were the color of pastels, the cars were all the same models, and all the people were white. This normally wouldn't be a problem; but she was in the suburbs. When her neighbors would see her their normally shinning eyes would harden into a glare. They would mutter phases under their breath; some ruder than others. Then they would turn away and act as though she wasn't there. Everyone treated her the same. The adults, children, men, women, there were no exceptions. As she grew older she started to develop a persona. One of a confident, beautiful, and undoubtedly perfect individual. No one treated her as if she was different ever again. She had outwardly assimilated herself into a suburban girl. From then on she noticed that her life failed to become monumentally easier. It would appear that it did but in truth it did not. Yes, she became everything she had hoped for but she still felt no better. On the inside her confidence became to shatter more as she realized that no one could or would ever love her for who she was. No one would love her faults and all. But still, she maintained the persona because someone loving the fake her was better than no one loving her at all.

The second reason why her childhood was such a tremendous hurdle in her life was because of the passing of her late mother. The beautiful woman-who had been the only light in the girl's world-was killed by a man struggling from addiction. The man needed money in order to get a fix. Her mother was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Maria Lopez is walking briskly through the pelting rain. She lifts her shaking hands to try and shield away more of the water that was causing her hair to frizz. 'Damn rain. I'm never listening to the forecast again. Those damn liars.' She thinks to herself as she gives up trying to save her hair and instead focuses on trying to conserve her body heat. She hikes her purse higher up on her shoulder in order to allow her arms to move. 'Why did I park so far away?' She asks herself as she rubs her hands rapidly over her forearms; trying to create some heat. 'As soon as I get home I'm gonna take a hot bath.' She sighs as she imagines the feel of the hot water heating her body up. 'I wonder if we still have that bottle of wine at home. Santana better not have drank it.' Maria pauses in thought as she reaches her car. 'I doubt she did. She never seems to drink any alcohol. I swear, I have not idea where she gets that from. When I was fourteen I practically spent all my time near a bottle of alcohol. Oh dear, I exaggerate too much.' She lets out a hearty laugh and reaches into her bag to grab her keys.

She freezes with her arm stationed halfway into her bag. She lets out a shaky breath as a shiver goes up her spine. She tenses her body when she feels a cold object pressing against her throat.

"Listen." A voice rasps out as they press the object harder against her throat. "You are going to give me your purse." The voice says lowly. "And then we are both going to go home happy." The person pauses in order to tug lightly at the purse hanging atop Maria's shoulder. "How does that sound?" The man asks and Maria hears a threat hanging silently in the air. The man tugs more forcefully at the desired object. "Give me your purse." The man commands in a more threatening and irritable tone. Maria stands there unable to talk as she wonders how she landed herself in this situation. "Listen. I'm done playing. Give me your fucking purse or else I'm going to slice your fucking throat open!" The man shouts out while digging the knife deeper into her throat, no doubt slightly piercing the skin.

"Please." Maria whispers out while begging the man to let her go. She hadn't heard him ask for her purse as her mind had temporarily locked down. "Please. Please let me go. I have-."

The man lowers his head in order to whisper into her ear. "This is your last chance. Give. Me. Your. Purse." He whisperers while letting her know that he wasn't playing around.

"Please." Maria pleads while not fully comprehending the severity of the situation; being to shocked to form coherent thoughts. "I have-"

"Shut the fuck up!" The man shouts while pressing the knife roughly into her throat. He drags the knife quickly across her throat while feeling blood coat his formerly white hands. He shoves her slightly limp body away from him so that he can stash the knife into the waistband of his pants. He rushes to the side of her sprawled out body and rips her purse from her arm. Not even bothering to spare her a look he stands up and starts to walk away.

"Plea-pleasss." A voice manages to wheeze out as the recipient lay at death's door.

The man pauses for a second and says without a tinge of motion in his voice. "Lady, you could have lived. This is your fault. You should have just given it to me and you would have lived. I have no problem with killing people because cocaine is more important to me than someone else's life."

After the death of her mother the girl had spent a year overcome with depression. Of course she let no one see it. On the outside she was still perfect but on the inside her confidence began to shatter even more. She had no way to deal with death. She had no way to deal with handling it alone. She felt as though she had lost both of her parents. Her mother was dead and her father might as well be. The girl never saw him anymore, he was either working at the hospital or at the bar drinking. Santana was virtually alone during her depression. She sought out a way to fight it. This resulted in her beginning a diary.

March 8, 2007,

I'm not gonna start this off with some lame 'dear diary'. I'm only doing this to see if it helps. The psychologist said it would help.

Okay, so where to start? I guess the beginning. It was January 15th when I got the news. I was in my room listening to music when-.

"Santana!" Mark Lopez calls out from downstairs in the living room. His voice is thick with grief and he is struggling to stand upright. Feeling his legs begin to shake more so then before causes him to lower his body on the two-seated couch.

"Coming dad!" Santana shouts out in response, failing to notice the tone that her father's voice held. She runs down the stairs two steps at a time with an exuberant smile on her face. She rushes into the living room and she stumbles in surprise at the sight ahead of her. She had never seen her father look so solemn before. 'I wonder what's wrong.' Santana thinks to herself as she observes him. His shoulders are tense, his face is slack, his right leg is shaking, and there's a bottle of Corona in his hand. 'Dad never drinks.' "Dad what's wrong?" Santana asks with large amount of concern in her voice.

His jaw tightens and he lets in a shaking breath to calm himself. "Sit down." He says dejectedly. Santana walk over to the couch and abruptly sits, waiting for the answer. "The." He pauses while allowing himself a second to control his emotions. "The police called me today. They wanted me to go identify a body. They had found a black cell phone with my number in it. The cell phone belongs to your mother." He pauses while a stream of tears begins to fall down his face. "Or should I say belonged? She's dead, Santana." He finishes while taking a quick chug of his beer.

Santana let out a laugh. "Hardy har har. You're really funny dad. Now when's mom getting home." She asked while pray to God that this was a lie. 'Please let this be a lie. Please. I swear, if this a lie I will go to church ever Sunday and never do anything bad ever again.'

"It's the truth." Her father says simply as he chugs the rest of his beer. He then goes to the fridge, grabs a six pack, and walks up the stairs. "Maria is dead."

I still refused to believe him after that. The way I found out he wasn't lying was when I saw the police report on the TV.

March 20, 2007

I told my psychologist I wasn't going to write in this anymore but he made me. I wanna get this over with as soon as possible so I'm gonna skip ahead a little bit. This entry will be shorter because I'm not in the mood to write today. But I never am. OK, so after about a month the relationship between my father and I was almost nonexistent. It felt like we were two strangers living in the same house. Or more like I was living by myself. He was never at home anymore. He was always at work. He was a surgeon. I know that the job requires a lot of hours but my dad was there everyday of the week. After work he didn't come hone. At least not for a few hours. He would always tell me that he was going to hang out with his friends. I knew that meant that he was gonna get shitfaced at the nearest bar. He didn't really even try to hide it. He always came home reeking of alcohol and always had trouble getting to his room. I always helped him. That was the only real interaction we had.

April 5, 2007

I finally got my psychologist to let me stop writing in this stupid thing. So this is my last entry. I guess I should use it to talk about my feelings. A good interpretation of them would be the five stages thing. You know, denial, anger, bargaining, depression, then acceptance. I've gotten through all of the stages except acceptance. I don't think I can ever accept this. My mother is dead and her killer has never been found. The only thing I can accept about that is that police suck. Whatever. I'm done.

The final and most quintessential part of her younger years was meeting Sure Sylvester. The woman had appeared like a ray of light on an otherwise gloomy day. She had taken a broken girl and turned her into someone to be reckoned with.

A taller than average woman walks across the sidewalk while pushing a variety of people out of her way. Her name is Sue Sylvester, but everyone knew that. She didn't even need to carry an I.D. She continues to walk while while managing to make a few people run away. To her a few meant about thirty. She is used to this sort of reaction, after all this is what she craves. She loves the smell of fear in the air. She is a predator and the citizens of New York are her prey. People knew to run away when they saw her. It was a good thing that her appearance was strikingly different that the average New Yorker. This granted the citizens the ability to run away without coming within thirty feet of her. As soon as people saw the cropped blonde hair with the brown roots they would clutch whatever they're holding closer to themselves. When they saw her trademark tracksuit they would begin to turn around. And once they saw the megaphone-that she insisted on carrying around-they would already be fleeing the scene. Sue Sylvester was proud of the influence she had. People would do whatever they told her to. But people seemed to listen to anyone that could murder them in a matter of seconds.

She was not outrageously built, she did not know martial arts, and she was not unattractive enough to cause someone to go blind. The reason for her threat was her mind set. She had trained herself to not be afraid of anyone or anything and this caused her to come off as aggressive. She used this to her advantage. She saw the way that people feared her and found a way to harbor it. She started her own training facility. It was not for military, police forces, or anything else that worked for the government or the law. It was a training facility for security guards. The reason she chose to train people that aspired for this occupation was because they didn't have to follow the same rules as those working for the government. They could still carry firearms but they had more freedom. They were able to choose their clients, they were able to protect their clients at all costs, and they only had to attend the facility for a year.

As Sue continues to walk she runs into a young girl. Or more like the girl runs into her. The girl was tanned, had black hair, and a scowl on her face that seemed to rival the one that Sue had on herself. Sue is impressed, this girl reminds her very much of her younger self. "You." Sue says in a monotone voice.

The girl's eyebrows furrow as she wonders why Sue Sylvester is talking to her. She was terrified of her but she wasn't going to let her know. Instead she musters up her courage and speaks in a defiant tone. "Is there something that you want? She stops and then starts to inspect her nails in order to act as though she is uninterested.

Sue watches the girl in front of her in wonderment. 'Is not afraid of me? I'm impressed. This girl's got chops. And she only like fifteen or sixteen. Imagine her in a couple of years.' Sue thinks to herself as her eyes focus more intently on the girl. "You have not completely disgusted me with your presence. In a couple years you are going to enroll in my training facility. You are familiar with it, correct? Then you should know that it is highly acclaimed and this is not an offer I hand out often. I advise that you take it. If you do you will become like me. Powerful. People will fear you." Sue finishes with a smirk as she sees the girl's eyes light up. Bingo.

Santana is completely shell shocked at what just happened. She has an opportunity to do something with her life. Something that would cause people to fear her and respect her. She thinks that this is something that she should do because it will no doubt increase her confidence. No one will mess with her if she can bust their face in. "I will join in a couple years." Santana answers as she starts to envision what her life will be like in the future.

"Good." Sue says as she turns to walk away. She has already spent too much time fraternizing with a civilian and will definitely have to sanitize herself when she gets home. She has the scent of normality stinking up her usual scent of power. Sue walks away as she wonders what the future would hold in store for her and this unknown girl.

After that chance meeting Santana was allowed to go back to her regular self. She finally had something to live for again. She had something to look forward to and she had someone who had acknowledged her as a person, which had never happened before. People usually only saw her as a trophy that they wanted to mount on their wall.

Back in the present, Santana continues to lay punch after powerful punch upon the flimsy punching bag. The stuffing is beginning to come out of the top and there are indents situated almost everywhere. Santana punches with a tremendous amount of power as the memories of her life rush into her mind forcing to remember a life that she'd rather forget.

"Santana!" An alarmingly loud voice calls out into the nearly desolate room. "My office." Sue commands in a tone that holds a tone of authority. Santana rolls her eyes to herself as she listens to her over dramatic mentor. It probably wasn't anything serious. Sue always called her into her office for absurd reasons. To listen to a spiel about a guy who has too much gel in his hair, about how she tried to feed one of the instructors cookies made out of poo, and about how much she loves Madonna. Santana is sure that it wasn't anything important. But she still has to go anyway.

When she enters the very empty office she immediately takes a seat and glances at the decor that never fails to make her fell intimidated. The office looks as though it's a police interrogation room. The walls are plain white and there are only three pieces of furniture in the room. A charcoal black desk and two chairs of a similar color.

"There has been an application." Sue says while looking though her immensely stacked files on her desk looking for the correct one. "You've been here for a year, so I decided to give you the job." She continues as she finally manages to locate the lost file. She pulls it out from underneath the pile and tosses it on the desk in front of Santana. Then she stands up as she walks over to Santana's side of the desk.

"This here is Brittany Pierce." Sue gestures to a picture on the top right corner of the printed document. "She says that she's being harassed by some crazed fan. He keeps sending her documents containing disturbing messages. Even to one Sue Sylvester." Sue pauses as she motions Santana to flip to next paper in the file. "We don't have the notes. They are with the police. But she did give us a brief synopsis of their contents." Sue grabs a note off of her desk. "I'm going to summarize this because frankly, I don't want to be here. It says that the notes have contained information about her whereabouts, her friends, her family, and her sleeping habits. This is one gross individual, he or she is clearly enamored with this Brittany girl." Sue stops for a second in order to turn her voice into an overly dramatic one. "This young, fearful girl has came here to Sue Sylvester begging for help. Who was I to refuse. So I chose you. Do you take the job?"

Santana mulls over the offer in her mind. 'This job sounds kinda boring. I mean what exactly is this guy going to do. He's just really into her. Why doesn't she just sleep with him?" Santana think to herself. "But I should probably take the job. I could really use the money, I needs to buy myself some more bling.' "I'll take it." Santana says aloud in a bored tone. Trying to cover up the fact that inside she was practically jumping around in excitement. She got like this every time she had enough money to go to Jacobs. "When does it start? And who exactly is Brittany Pierce? Is she famous or something?"

Sue lifts an eyebrow at the sudden onrush of questions and the excited tone that they were presented to her in. Santana wasn't exactly doing a very good job of hiding what she was feeling. She chooses to act as though she doesn't care. Because she really didn't. "Well, the job starts in one hour." Sue announces while lowering herself back into her black leather seat. "Brittany Pierce is indeed famous. But of course not as famous as one Sue Sylvester. I'm not going to go into details because I'm bored and I have to put my placenta mask on in about five minutes." Santana's neutral face contorts into one of disgust. "She is a Broadway choreographer. She is a pansy." Sue finishes while looking behind her at the the clock mounted on the wall. "It's been five minutes. Now get the hell out of my office." Sue commands while giving Santana a stern look. Santana immediately stands up and grabs the folder that she had previously dropped on the desk. She turns around not bothering to say goodbye and saunters out of the office. She decides while walking to the showers that she was going to try her damnedest to make it through her first job without fail.

An hour later found Santana strutting into a dimly lit Cafe. She is supposed to meet the girl here. And like usual she is turning heads. She was used to it by now. People would watch her wherever she went. It terrifies her. She has not gotten over her self consciousness. She would act like she wanted this attention on her so that people would either perceive her as vain and leave her alone, or hit on her. If people hit on her she would go with it and act as though she was attracted to them in order for her to feel good about herself for one second. When she was having sex with some stranger their complete attention was on her and she felt loved for that one second. She's had sex so many times that she's lost count. Not one time was truly important enough for her to remember. Well maybe her twentieth time. She didn't remember his name but that was the time that everything seemed to change. After that twentieth time she felt accomplished, like she had passed a milestone in her life. She finally realized what the appeal of sex was. During those ten minutes that she had sex with him she actually felt confident for once. She knew that he was there for her and only her. That was why she kept sleeping with people. She needed to be able to feel good about herself sometimes.

The clothes that she wears seem to do nothing for her confidence. Though they do direct the attention of everyone away from her scared face and onto her exposed legs and partially revealed chest. Santana always chose to wear what are considered 'preppy' clothes. She would wear skirts, blouses, headbands, cardigans, and anything else that fit that category. They allowed her to retain her persona. The one of the perfect suburban girl.

Santana walks over to the counter in order to buy a drink as she waits. A gangly teen with greasy hair, a face fully of acne, and a perverted look on his face greets her there. His eyes roam up and down her body and she has to control her urge to throw up. Even she has standards. She looks over the options as his eyes continue to ogle her in a way that fails to make her feel good. "Hey cutie, what can I get for you?" The boy asks with a nasally voice as he proceeds to wipe his snot covered nose with the sleeve of his 'World of Warcraft' shirt.

"I'll get a cappuccino please." She asks while plastering a fake smile on her face. She reaches for her purse in order to grab her wallet but is interrupted but a hand grabbing her own. She looks down in alarm to notice the boy's hand grasping her own.

"Don't worry. This is on me." He says in what he thinks to be a smooth tone. Santana, unable to turn down a free drink nods with a fake smile. A goofy grin erupts on his face and he reveals a set of yellow teeth covered with braces. The boy turns around and begins to fetch her the drink. Santana has to bite her lip when she sees him pick his nose before pouring the milk in. She seriously wants to throw up right there. In about two minutes he finishes making her drink and places it down in front of her. "Here ya go. So how about your number?" He says while leaning across the counter invading her personal space.

Santana racks her mind for an acceptable excuse. She definitely wasn't going to sleep with him. That wouldn't make her feel anymore confident . He looked disgusting. "Well, you see I-" She starts off but is interrupted when she hears the bell above the door alerting the patrons of a customer. The girl is blonde and causes Santana's eyes to momentarily bulge. But then they return to regular as she realizes that this girls is the she came here to meet. "Sorry, I have to go. I was waiting for her." She says and leaves before he has a chance to leave. She doesn't bother to grab the drink before she goes up to the girl. The blonde girl looks at her in realization as she infers that this is the girl that she came here for. Santana motions with her head to a table in the back corner and the two girls go and sit down.

"You're here for the job right?" The girl asks as they sit down. Santana nods. "So, you know everything?" Santana nods again and there's a slight awkward silence as neither girl knows what to say.

Santana clears her throat as she decides that she should say something. "I read the file. Apparently I am to be with you twenty-four seven because my boss is afraid that this person will attack." Santana says but quickly continues once she notices the girl's panic stricken face. "But my boss is a tad dramatic." The girl's face fails to change. Santana just sits there confused as to exactly what she's supposed to do. She doesn't know how to comfort someone. She's never done it before, her friends never cry.

There is another awkward silence before the girls speaks up again. "What do you mean by be with me twenty-four seven?" She asks in a confused tone.

"I am supposed to stay with you every second. I have to basically live with you until the police find this guy. I have to live in your house and pose as your friend." Santana says in a quick explanation to the girl in front of her. "Understand?"

"What's your name?" The girls asks while totally ignoring Santana's questions. She must have thought it was rhetorical. She looks at Santana with her head slightly tilted to the side as if she was a puppy. But she is not. So it looks absurd.

Santana's eyebrows scrunch up in confusion as is wonders if this girl is serious. She had just asked her a question and yet the blonde girl fails to respond or even acknowledge it. Santana did not do well with being ignored. It weighed heavily on her confidence as she felt if people ignored her she was not important enough for people to pay attention to. "Santana Lopez." She says instead in a neutral tone while trying to conceal the amount of hurt that this stranger made her feel. "But you will call me Lopez." She continues trying to inform the girl that this is simply a business transaction. Santana being the product and Brittany practically buying her. They were not to become friends, or even acquaintances for that matter.

Brittany throws her hand out in a quick motion that causes to brunette in front of her to flinch. Ignoring this Brittany sticks her hand out further while throwing a beaming smile at Santana. Santana awkwardly grips Brittany's hand in her own and gives it a shake. "I'm Brittany." She says while grinning at the other girl even more.

"I know." Santana deadpans while pulling her hand back, out of the girl's grasp. "But to me you're Pierce." Santana finished while further sending the signal of their relationship. She did not want the girl to get the wrong idea and think that they were actually friends. They were not. "Now let's get out of here." She says as she stands up. She was getting sick of the boy continuing to ogle her. She starts to walk towards the door while looking back to make sure the girl was following her. She was. "Where do you live?" Santana asks as they step outside onto the quickly busying streets. It was a Friday night. Thus warranting the amount of drunken adults wandering the streets.

"About a block to the left." Brittany answers while maneuvering her body out of the way of a pile of puke on the sidewalk.

"This is ridiculous." Santana groans out in frustration before she feels someone swat at her backside. "What the fuck?" She yells out in irritation. Sure she wants attention; but not that much. Santana starts speeding up in order to get out of the crowded streets. She wasn't used to this. She wasn't the type to spend the night prowling the clubs. She only went when Quinn or Mercedes forced her. Which wasn't often. She was too afraid to go . Being in a room full of gorgeous women only made her feel worse about herself.

Santana and Brittany finally make it to the apartment building after a long and surprisingly dangerous walk. Drunk people were dangerous people. They immediately walk in and head straight for the elevator.

While standing in the brightly lit elevator Santana can't help but let her eyes wander. She finds the girl beside her unbelievably attractive. Which is unexpected because Santana has always considered herself straight. Though right now she doesn't seem very straight. At least she doesn't want to sleep with the girl. Or at least she doesn't think she does. Who could blame her anyway. Brittany is gorgeous.

After a few seconds the two girls walk out of the elevator with an awkward silence in place. It weighs heavily in the air as the girls didn't know how to interact with each other. They were not supposed to be friends or acquaintances so what were they? Brittany didn't own Santana. Santana simply worked for her. So did they act like boss and employee or did they act as if they were complete strangers to each other? Both girls ponder over this thought as they make their way towards the end of the hallway. When they reach the last door on the right they freeze in shock. Lying in front of the door is a white folded piece of paper. Both girls instantly know what it contains. Reaching down in anticipation Santana grabs the note. She looks at it for a few seconds and her eyes widen in shock.

Dear love,

You left me all alone today. I craved your company but you left me here sadly awaiting your return here. You didn't need to leave. I would have gotten whatever it was that your heart desired. Anything. Why did you leave me alone here? I wanted you to be near me but I was instead only given myself as a companion. I wanted you but you weren't here. Next time I hope you will stay. I hope that you will choose to be with me instead of anyone else. I know that I will someday claim your heart. Whether it still be in your chest or not. If you don't gladly give me your heart I will instead take it from you. I love you. So, so much. I hope you will love me too. Then we can spend the rest of our lives together. We would go to a remote island where no one can find us and spend all of our time together. I would never let you out of my sight. Not like I do that right now. I watch you every second of the day. While you sleep, while you shower, while you dress, and while you dance around your living room. I observe you. This allows me to know you inside and out. I probably know you better than you know yourself. That is why we need to be together. Because without you I am empty. And if you are not with me you will be empty as well, for your heart will no longer be in your chest.

Until next time,

A

I hope everyone enjoyed this! :) Please review and tell me if you like the changes. Also, I purposely didn't describe the character's physical appearances.