So I decided to write another story :) I'm not gonna give any spoilers away, but it will follow Santana as she deals with a lot of things in her life. Slightly A/U, but follows Season 2. Please R&R and let me know if I should continue! Without further ado...

Chapter One ~ Misguided Ghosts

The spring downpour outside mimicked the swirling emotions lingering within my body. The overcast and immense gray skies cooled the atmosphere to almost a winter chill. The last thing I wanted to do was put on my uniform and head to school, placating a smile on my dolled up face. The medicine cabinet mirror instead reflected an almost pale complexion, a messy bun of black hair, puffy eyelids, unmanicured and freshly bitten nails, and a sincerity and vulnerability that hadn't surfaced in years.

I opted for a pair of black skinny jeans and an oversized grey hoodie as I pulled on my green chucks and managed to slip into my camero. Being a doctor's daughter had its perks, such as money and popularity, but it also had its downfalls, divorce and empty households. The windshield wipers reflected my blurry vision and understanding, managing to briefly wash away the distractions before they quickly returned. The school parking lot seemed fuller than usual, only fitting that I should have to continue to suffer as I tried to locate an empty space.

Before I had time to duck into first period, the overly shrill voice of Coach Sylvester reverberated through my ears. "Sandbags!" she shouted over the lull of students still littering the hallway. I hesitated to turn toward her, but ultimately knew that if I didn't, she would only shout louder, creating an even more obnoxious scene. "What's with the hobo apparel? If you find the uniform hard to wear, I can easily find someone else who doesn't."

Her words sliced through my broken frame like ice. I knew I had the responsibility of wearing the uniform every day, but for some reason I thought I could manage to slip through the cracks for once. I should have known better than to try and hide from one Sue Sylvester. My eyes searched her, for a tiny hint of understanding, but found none. I opened my mouth to speak but was immediately cut off. "Sorry Coach, she left it at my house last night and I left for school early this morning," a sweet and raspy voice lingered by my side as her frail arm linked with mine.

Coach looked like she wanted to argue, but quickly found another student to yell at in frustration and marched past them, but not before adding a tiny rebuttal, "I better see those ripe melons wrapped in red and white tomorrow S!"

"What were you thinking," the intruder asked vehemently, shaking my attention toward her. I sighed heavily as I quickly placed my signature bitch smirk on my unpolished face. "You're gonna get kicked off the squad."

"What do you care? You're back on top, what should it matter who's beneath your bony ass?" I shot back angrily.

"Because whether you'd like to admit it or not, I know you Santana, and I know Cheerios means more to you than anything else."

"Well maybe you should have thought about that before taking captain away from me."

She looked defeated and confident at the same time, almost like she regretted doing it but still wanted to do it as well. She flicked her hazel eyes downward before returning my gaze. "I only took back what was rightfully mine."

I paused, unable to let her in and see how much I've missed her, missed us. Instead, I continued to allow my bitch façade to take control and lead me through this conversation. "Look, let's get one thing straight, we're not friends Quinn, we both know that whatever we may have had in the past has long vanquished. Secondly, don't pretend like you don't like to be head bitch in charge just as much as I do. You may have everyone else at this school fooled, but just as much as you know me, I know just as much about the real Quinn Fabray. I don't need your help in defending myself to Sue, and I definitely don't need your pity about my extracurricular activities." I purposefully excused myself from this encounter and headed toward English before she even had time to process every word that I'd spat at her.

The day kind of moved forward effortlessly, a few gaping stares and snide remarks about my appearance, but no one dared to question it like Quinn had. I rummaged through my locker for my math book for fourth period as I felt a familiar touch against my forearm. "Did I miss dress down day again?" her voice laced with disappointment as she filled the space next to me.

I couldn't help but chuckle at her obliviousness of my attire, as well as her need of thinking that whatever I did, she ultimately needed to do too. "No Brit," I managed to retort, "you didn't miss anything."

"Then why aren't you in your uniform," she questioned, ultimately allowing her blue eyes to look from her uniform to my chosen outfit for the day.

She deserved to know the truth, that was included in the role of a best friend, honesty. But as I struggled to turn my gaze from those baby blues, I knew I had to lie. "I forgot to wash it last night." The words escape my lips with ease, and I have to struggle between feeling guilty and satisfied at how easily it is to lie to her.

She shrugs and accepts the answer as truth. She doesn't even bother asking why I didn't choose a more attractive look. Before my gut has the chance to betray my deceit, I fake not feeling well and hurry in the opposite direction. All I wanted was to get rid of the ragged emotions coursing through my veins, but my plan had backfired when I showed up to school in this state. I swore to myself that tomorrow would be different, my masquerade would return and there would be no more questions. Classes came and went, and before I knew it I was sitting in the back of glee watching Berry perform another earth shattering solo. I had only been brought to the present due to the unnecessary tugging at the sleeve of my sweatshirt. I looked over to the culprit, and in the process realized that the entire room was staring in my direction.

"Santana," Puck called with one last tug on my arm. My expression must have mimicked my confusion because he continued to point me in the direction of Mr. Schue at the front of the class.

"Do you have something prepared?" The class' gaze continued to linger on me with what seemed like 50 pairs of eyes as Mr. Schue asked with a tiny hint of concern. It was then that I remembered the assignment for this week. Emotions. Monday I had insisted that I had a perfect song to share, for the life of me I couldn't remember why I was so eager to perform. Because now that it was Thursday, I sure as hell didn't feel like climbing down and belting out my emotions in the form of a song.

"Um, I'm actually not feeling very well today. Sorry to disappoint all my fans." I smirk and scan the class, hoping my bitch façade will rectify the situation.

"More like partied too hard last night," Kurt retorts, eyeing my baggie hoodie with disgust as he rolls his eyes. His reply is answered by a few snickers as the class returns their attention to Mr. Schue.

Hating them all with the disgust in myself for my inability to hide my problems, I quickly stand to show them that Santana never backs down from a challenge, nor does she take shit from a bunch of misfits like the glee club. "Actually I do have something planned."

I take my stance in the middle of the floor, secretly hating myself for doing this, but at the same time reveling in the attention. The music begins and I immediately lose my thought process as the rhythm overtakes me.

"See I'm trying to find my place, but it might not be here where I feel safe. We all learn to make mistakes."

I close my eyes as Puck picks up his guitar and begins to strum along.

"And run from them, from them, with no direction. We'll run from them, from them, with no conviction."

Without hesitation, Mercedes joins Puck and I on the floor and the two of them join in as the chorus begins.

"Cause I'm just one of those ghosts, traveling endlessly. Don't need no roads, in fact they follow me. And we just go in circles."

Puck continues to play as Mercedes hums in the background of the second verse.

"Well now I'm told that this is life, and pain is just a simple compromise. So we can get what we want out of it."

Their voices rejoin in harmony with mine.

"We are just misguided ghosts, traveling endlessly. The ones we trusted the most, pushed us far away. And there's no one road, we should not be the same. But I'm just a ghost, and still they echo me."

Their voices die out as Puck strums the last chord on the guitar and I finish the song.

"They echo me in circles."

The applause reverberates throughout the tiny classroom as I smile and head back to my seat. "Beautifully done Santana. A great window into the life of the girl behind the popularity."

"Yeah who knew you actually had a soul underneath all that," Rachel quickly adds before realizing the words had left her mouth. She looks surprised by her own reply and immediately stammers to save herself. "I enjoyed it," she adds with a tiny smile.

Mr. Schue tries to rectify the situation, knowing that if given the opportunity I would fight back. "Alright class, anyone else have a song prepared for this week's assignment?" The spotlight dims from me, allowing me the chance to breathe again since I started the song. No one knew what the words really mean to me. Everyone assumed it was about being popular and a Cheerio, I guess that's what my reputation has afforded me.

Before Quinn can profess her love for Sam through public song again, the bell rings and I immediately grab my bag and head towards the door. However, luck must not be on my side today because my arm is quickly grasped by Mr. Schue. "Santana can I talk to you for a minute?" His eyes plead for me to give him a minute of my time. I nod and roll my eyes as the rest of the class exits. He shuffles to the piano and gathers the sheet music on top. "I noticed you seemed a little…unlike yourself today." He says this with hesitancy, not wanting to rub me the wrong way I suppose. Why does everyone think I'm going to bite their heads off all the time. Oh wait, I do.

"So it's abnormal to not feel well once in a while?"

"I didn't say that." He quickly tries to find the right words to say, knowing this conversation isn't going the way he wants it to. I never gave him the chance to have a quality conversation. "I'm only making sure everything is okay. I know everyone can have a bad day every now and then, and it certainly doesn't help when Kurt and Rachel…"

"I can take care of myself." I cut him off angrily. "And in case you haven't noticed, I'm pretty sure I've said worse things to them, or about them, whatever same thing. Look Mr. Sweater Vest, it's not a crime to be different for a day, but don't think for one second I have issues and need your saving." I vacate the spot I had been standing, leaving him stunned and defeated. Tomorrow would be different. Tomorrow had to be different.

It was like I couldn't breathe, but nothing was strangling or suffocating me. Everything hurt, all of a sudden every nerve was firing within. I needed my numbness back, the sense of normalcy I had created in my life, because this feeling crap thing was not working for me. I made it to my car before my breakdown began. I could no longer hold my salty emotions in as they streaked their way down my cheeks. I needed release, and I needed it now. Fumbling through my purse I located the object of my desire. Closing my eyes, I allowed myself to feel numb once more, complete satisfaction mixed with salt and pain as the rain continued to beat against my car.