NOTE: If you can't handle violence, blood, abuse or anything in that category, do NOT read. This has been a warning. Written in Brittany's point of view. I don't own Glee or anything else I may mention in this story. Thank you for your time.

Stay with me

My mother, Carmen, has always been mean. All she ever does is treat everyone like crap. The things she says hurt, but she doesn't care what people think. My father, Sean, is a business man that owns a restaurant just across town. After years of serving the famous 'cheese bread' that our maid, Amelia, invented we struck it rich. He never thanked her once for the recipe. We have everything you could possibly think of. A big house, fancy cars, and too many plasma screen TV's. Amelia is so nice to us, but she's always treated like a piece of trash. I don't get it. Everyone is equal; well, in my eyes at least. When we moved to a house that was guarded by a gate and a security guard, I felt like my world was suffocating. My dad was never as rude and heartless as he is now. We use to be so close, but his love for money grew and his love for me descended. I don't need all these things, yet my dad insists on giving them to me. On top of everything else, Amelia isn't getting a very high pay and when I suggested to my dad that we should give her a raise; he slapped me across the face. Hard. 'Never help the poor.' he hissed and glared at Amelia. All I could do was stand there. No talking back, or else I'd get a worse punishment. Amelia quickly ran to me after he left the room. She always seemed to make everything better. Her home remedies that she did when someone was hurt or sick actually worked. 'Mi abuelita taught me the best Mexican remedies when I lived with her on our village in Guadalajara' she said with a smile. She had such a big heart. If I were her, I would never put up with the crap my parents were putting her through. She calls me 'Miss. Brittany' and to my parents, she says 'Mr. Pierce', 'Mrs. Pierce' or 'sir' and 'Ma'am'. I always tell her to call me Brittany, but she never does.

For my junior year, my parents hired someone to home school me. Again. I've never had friends, the only person I've met outside of this house was a guy named Artie. He's a nice guy, more so, I thought. But my dad wanted me to make him my boyfriend as soon as we met. We met about three months ago. I had no choice but to listen to him. Getting slapped across the face, or beat, is the last thing I want. His parents get along with mine really well. I don't pay attention to them much because all they do is gossip or complain about their maids. To me, Amelia isn't a maid. She's like family. We've had her since I was nine years old. The things she says to me have never been said to me before. 'You're a very beautiful young lady, Miss. Brittany. Bien Bonita. When you find someone that notices, don't ever let them go'. She's just so sweet; always helping me out with my Spanish homework and doing other things. When my self esteem is low, her compliments always boost it up, well, sometimes. I use to cut myself. Or, I still cut myself. Nobody has ever noticed. People never notice it. They never notice anything. I have no friends that care and my parents are too busy swimming in a tub of money to even acknowledge me. As I make my way downstairs, there's a knock at the door. It must be Artie.

"Amelia! Get the damn door!" my father shouts and Amelia quickly runs to the front door. I glare at my dad as he reads his newspaper. It is Artie. He comes in with a couple behind him. I stay in my seat by the kitchen table while he makes his way towards me. He gestures his fingers, telling me to lean in to kiss him.

"This is my cousin Charles and his girlfriend Angela." he states and turns to face them. I give them a small smile and shake their hands. "You," he calls for Amelia "get us some tea." he demands and takes off his coat.

"Yes sir." she says and takes his coat along with his cousin's. I press my lips together and sigh. I hate when they treat her like that. My eyes lock with Charles' and I immediately avert them to a different direction. With that one glance, I could tell he's as much of an asshole as my father or Artie. He has an abnormal looking nose and dark brown eyes, but for some reason, his hair is as blonde as mine. Maybe even lighter. I look over to his girlfriend. She's very pretty; long dirty blonde hair and green eyes along with a perfect smile. I finally notice that I was staring for too long and move my gaze to Artie.

"Let's go to the game room." he says and wheels himself to the room. It's not really a game room because there's no games. It's more of a gossip room, except I don't gossip. Charles, Angela and I follow him and take a seat on the long couch in front of the book shelf. That book shelf that's filled with all my favorite books. I've read almost all of them. You know how some people play video games, or do crossword puzzles? Well, I read. It's what I do. It's all I do.

Amelia comes in moments later and serves us tea. She accidentally drops some on the wooden table in front of us and breaks the tea set.

"Now look what you've done! Can't you do anything right?" Artie exclaims and throws a dry cloth towards her.

"I'm sorry, sir." she says and cleans up the mess. I wonder sometimes why I decided to even be with him in the first place. Then I remember; because of my father. I lean in to pick up some of the broken pieces and Artie slaps my hand away.

"Why are you helping her? She's a maid. Let her do her job." he states coldly and glares at Amelia. I look at her with hurt eyes and pull my hand away. When she's finished cleaning the mess, I smile softly at her.

"Thanks Amelia." I tell her, she nods and walks away.

"Why do you thank her?" he asks while pulling out a cigarette. "Don't thank her. You embarrass me and yourself." he finishes and blows out the smoke from his lungs.

"You're an asshole." I state and get up from the couch. He grabs my wrist to stop me from walking out and pulls me down to his eye level.

"You have to understand that you can never treat the maid like family. They'll get attached."

"You DISGUST me." I tell him and pull away from his grip.

"Brittany, you're making a big mistake." he says while clenching his teeth. I chuckle sarcastically and keep walking. While I walking up the stairs to my room, I run into Amelia. She lowers her head and clears her throat.

"What can I get you, Miss. Brittany?" she asks while twisting a cloth in her hands. I look at her sadly and squeeze her shoulder.

"I'm fine Amelia and call me Brittany. Okay?"

She looks up at me and nods. I smile at her and she walks away quickly because she hears footsteps coming from down stairs. As I walk to my room, I can't help but think how mad my parents are going to be once they find out about what I said to Artie. My room door slams shut and I walk to the small couch by my window. Everything outside is too dull and too big. Everything is too much. I mean, the houses are nice, but I never expected it to be so boring. In the books, you read how couples with a baby are happy, having barbecues and parties with all their family. Here, children are stuck in their house practicing something they don't want to, practicing proper etiquette, or just alone. Like I am. I always wonder what it feels like to be in love. To be with someone so amazing you can barely breathe. My parents met in high school, so maybe that's what I need to do. Go to high school. I walk to my computer and look up the closest high school near me.

"William McKinley High School..." I say to my empty room. My hand reaches for a piece if paper and a pen so I could write down the address. Moments later, I hear loud footsteps coming up stairs. My door is locked, so whomever it is won't be able to come in.

"Brittany!" I hear my dad shout and knock on my door loudly. "Open the goddamn door!"

My hands begin to tremble and my stomach flips. I minimize the browser and open the door.

"What the hell did you tell Artie?" he asks with so much rage, his face turned red. His breath smelled like alcohol. He has always been an angry drunk.

"He was being rude to Amelia, so I called him an asshole and left."

"You're not suppose to feel sympathy for the poor! I'm embarrassed that you are my daughter!"

"Dad, Amelia is nice! She's the one that raised me, you should thank her!" I shout and he smacks me across the face.

"Don't you dare say that." he says while clenching his teeth. I hold my cheek in pain and wipe the side of my lip with my finger. I'm bleeding and so is my nose. My eyes start to water and I step back. When those words escaped his mouth, my body filled with so much anger, I could barely hold it in.

"Don't you remember when we were like that? When we could barely afford a loaf of bread?"

He breathes in deeply as he takes a sip of the bottle of wine in his hands. "Shut up. You're going to apologize to Artie." he says and walks away. My mom comes from downstairs and into my room. She pats a moist paper towel on my lip and cleans my bloody nose.

"You're dad is right, Brittany. Maybe you should apologize to Artie. It's for the best."

"Stop," I push her hand away. "get out." I tell her signaling the door. She stares at me coldly and slams the door shut. After a while of crying, I hear a knock at the door.

"Mija, its me." I hear Amelia mumble from the other side of the door. I open it and tell her to come inside. She has a tray with food in her hands and I tell her to set it down on the dresser. She smiles softly at me and leads me to the chair in front of my mirror. Her hands run through my hair and they begin to twist, making a side braid. One hand pulls my bangs to the left side of my face, and the other squeezes my shoulder lightly.

"Bien hermosa." she whispers. I don't know what it means, but i know it means something good because of the sparkle in her eyes. "Why do you do this to yourself, Brittany?" she asks me in a low tone and glances down at my right wrist, then our eyes lock. I pull my long sleeve to hide all the scars and avert her gaze.

"You're a very pretty girl, Miss. Brittany. Don't let that go to waste."

My hands begin to shake and I can feel a knot forming in my throat. She means what she says, but for some reason, I don't believe her. I don't believe anyone when they compliment me. Why? I don't know. It's hard to believe when you grew up differently from other people. Its hard to trust since the people that were meant to be trusted, let you down completely. Like your family. You're born to trust them right? I mean, you're just born with it because your trust just grows while your in the mothers womb. You don't know any better. It's like this: here's one of the people that created me; so nice, so welcoming. I should be able to trust him/her since he/she is the one that'll be raising me. Right? That's what I think. Trusting my father is like trusting a drunk with a gun. Literally. He's never called me beautiful, like the rest of the little girls he'd talk to at his work and my mom lowers my self esteem whenever she has the chance. I knew them, I knew both of them at one point. But I guess their love for me vanished. They got over their little girl, or maybe, they never had me in the first place.