I put on my leather jacket, while simultaneously checking myself out in the mirror. Hot damn, I internally applauded myself. I'm going to go out tonight. Just drink away the stress that takes form in my three exes. And if I'm lucky, I might get laid as well. Not that it's my priority, but it would be nice.

I sped off with my black Lexus, determined to make this day less shitty.

I arrived at the club, and the buzz was already starting to hype up. I, always in need for alcohol, proceeded to the bar immediately. I purposefully ignored the leering guys and girls because we all need an alone time before we deal with everything else, don't we? I motioned for the bartender, Joe, and ordered myself a Martini.

I was enjoying my drink, and was actually eying one chick from the dance floor when a commotion at my side ruined my immodest looking.

"Aw, baby, look at you. You look so lost and devastated," a guy says in unmistakably mocking voice. "I can cheer you up if you'd let me. In bed," he adds maliciously.

"Don't touch me," a girl retorts, probably the lost and devastated one (I can tell from her rejected tone).

"C'mon, babe, you deserve so much more than your groom. Come with us and we'll make it all better." Another man said, obviously not meaning what he's saying.

I know those voices. And they probably know mine, too.

"Get away from me," the girl speaks again, more firmly this time. "I don't need anyone."

The two guys just laughed.

"Feisty."

"Try harder. You're almost turning me on."

"Just fuck yourselves somewhere else," the girl mumbles resignedly.

I decided it was time to help the girl out. She sounded so sad. She didn't need these two douches bothering her.

"Rick. Azimio," I say in a low voice, and nod at them.

They were looking back and forth at me and the girl, and thought better. They chose to walk away.

The two guys nod back in acknowledgement at my direction.

"Yo, babe, sorry 'bout what happened to you," Azimio speaks up, and he actually sounded genuinely sorry. "We were just fishing for fun."

"He's a jerk," Rick supplements in.

And they were gone.

It's then that I saw her. My first thought was the same of Azimio's latest: I was genuinely sorry. I didn't know runaway brides still existed. She looked like a ruined piece of art. What I suppose was her perfect blonde hair earlier was now a mess. Her elegant wedding gown was now tattered and torn. Her other shoe was missing. Her makeup was distraught, and everything about her was destroyed, broken. But behind all these, I couldn't help but think she's beautiful. I see it. I just knew. Despite her mascara-stained eyes and her overall messed up persona, I can feel she is beautiful.

She is a ruined piece of art. But still an art, nonetheless.

I sat at the stool next to her, but didn't say anything. I mouthed 'water' to Joe.

"Thank you," the girl slurs, "For saving me from further assholes."

"It's nothing," I assured her.

"You know how you're so sure of your life, and then one thing fully changes that? Some extraterrestrial being bestowed power upon a speck of dust to completely spoil my pristine, pristine life."

I pushed the cup of water closer to her and shrugged.

"I was so mad earlier. I still am. But above all, I am sad. I'm so sad for myself, for my parents, for my supposedly-groom, and for everyone." She drowns the cup of water. "Have you ever felt so sad you just wanted to cry and curl up on your bed sheets?"

"No, I haven't," I offered her a tight-lipped smile. "But have you eaten yet?"

"Aren't you supposed to be the make-it-all-better character in my life? You're supposed to be consoling me, offering me pieces of relationshit advice, letting me cry on your shoulder and whatnot – not babysitting me."

I smiled mischievously at her. I am that make-it-all-better character in her life. But not just yet. I want her largely, if not fully, aware (or sober) when we take revenge on the person who did this to her, who hurt her. An art as wondrous as her shouldn't be trashed so easily – or ever, for that matter. I don't know where the surge of protectiveness over her came within me, but I knew I don't want her this sad.

"If it's any consolation, you can cry on my shoulder," I say. "So have you eaten yet?"

She doesn't answer me right away, though she did cry on my shoulder. I tensed at first when she laid her head on my shoulder, but I just let her. She started crying with silent tears and then it progressed to a heavy-with-fits-of-sobs-and-cursing-she's-hysterical-you-got-me-worried type of crying. I just let her all the while. I even put my arm around her, rubbed the side of her arm, and made cooing noises. I told her it'll soon be over. I don't know how soon, but I do know that everything, good and bad, gets over.

I asked Joe for another cup of water, which he quickly gave me. I made a mental note to tip him a little extra the next time I go here because he wasn't minding me and the stranger I was comforting.

When the girl finally calmed down, I offered the cup of water to her for the second time. She took it gratefully and drank it in one swig. She really looked like she needed it.

"I'm such a mess," she mutters coyly, wiping her nose and face with the back of her hand. She was wearing the slightest hint of a smile, and I could swear right there that she's way prettier when she smiles. I hate that prick who took away that beautiful, beautiful smile away from her.

"You are," I say in agreement.

Her slight smile turned to a full one, "Thank you. And no, I haven't eaten yet."

"I figured. Let's go."

She looks around, clueless, "Where? I'm sure you've also figured out I'm not close to a club-hopping-dance-floor-exploring mood right now?"

I had to chuckle at that. She's cute. "Restroom first, to salvage whatever we can from you, and then I'll get you fed."

"I like the sound of your plan, but what for?"

"To make a clear insinuation of what you deserve."

She smiles at me, a brighter one this time, and off to the restrooms we go.


I was standing at the girls' restroom with arms crossed, waiting for the runaway bride. I offered I'd go help her, but she insisted she could fix herself alone. I didn't argue, thinking that despite me being so nice to her, we're still basically strangers. I don't even know her name.

"I've never seen you smile that much, Lopez," Rick comments as he walked past by me. I just had to punch him on the arm for that.

"Someone's getting hitched," Azimio sing-songs, supporting Rick the Stick's cause.

I gave them a death glare. Their retreating figures of high-fiving each other annoyed me all the more. Pricks.

I was about to go check on my blonde friend/acquaintance/nobody when she walked out of the restrooms. Man, she salvaged herself bad. I can now clearly see her face, and those legs, too. She looks like a fairy of some sort. I could even see jots of light around her. So attractive.

She obviously washed her face, seeing as the remnants of crying and mascara around her eyes were now gone, and she is now makeup-less. Her hair was also neatly tied up to a bun atop her head. I don't know how she did it, but her once long gown was now cut up to her mid-thighs, making it look like she's wearing a cocktail dress.

"Impressive," I say when she comes up to me.

"You speak as if you haven't seen my ugly state earlier."

"Not ugly," I tell her. I just realized I sounded like a caveman there. "You weren't ugly earlier."

"Ha, yeah, 'cause I was horrible," she counters with a sarcastic smile.

"Hmm, yeah," I reply just as sarcastically. "Let's go."

Now I don't know why she's doing it, but she's holding my hand when we walked out of the club. She just grabbed my hand, and linked our fingers – like it's the most nonchalant thing between strangers. When I looked down at our intertwined hands, she just gave it a light squeeze. And just like earlier, I let her.

Maybe she needs the physical assurance and comfort from another person, or she just finds me super hot she doesn't want to share me with anybody so she clings to me (though this reason is very unrealistic), but whatever her reason was, I didn't mind holding her hand.


So I drove us away from the club, and I even lent her a pair of flip flops because her shoe was missing. We ended up sitting on a stoop, munching on burritos. It's the most practical choice I could think of when I think of getting back at the person who ruined her bride. I want the revenge as soon as possible – and if there's one thing Santana Lopez is good at, it's revenge.

"Why are you so nice to me?" My companion asked after minutes of silence.

I don't even know, I thought to myself. Even if I do, it would come off sappy and inappropriate for a person you just met. 'Because you're too beautiful to be hurt by an ass or by anyone,' you don't say that to someone on a regular basis, no? Instead, I settle for a plain answer. "It looked like you needed nice," I say.

She stares at me, and I noted how lovely her blue orbs and her eyes in general are. "Do you want to know how I ended up here?"

"I want to know your name," I blurted out.

The corner of her lips turned up, "Oh. I am Brittany Pierce, supposedly Evans. But that's irrelevant. I'm Brittany."

"So, Brittany, tell me how you ended up here."

It was evident she was still bitter while she was talking, but I really couldn't blame her. The occurrences were still so fresh. I wonder how she got to smile in such challenging times.

I learned that Sam, her ex-fiancé and ex-groom and the one we're going to kick ass later, has been his best friend first before her boyfriend. They naturally gotten along, though she says she'll never see him that good again after what he's done to her. I asked what made her runaway, and she said it was because she didn't know what to do except that she knows she's marrying the wrong person. She tells me she was given pictures of Sam cheating on her.

She said, "He could do it once, what could stop him to do it again?"

"You don't love him enough to give him a chance to explain?" I queried after swallowing a bite of burrito.

"I love him. I loved him. I don't know. He was clearly going to keep it a secret, hadn't I received that envelope. He was about to embark on the ship of unfaithfulness, and I was lucky I got warned. Cheating is cheating."

I raised my bottled water in the air and she clung her own against it. I don't know what we're cheering for, but we did.

"I guess the saddest part is that I just didn't lose one person. I lost him romantically, sure. But I'm sure as fuck we're not going to be friendly in the next ten years. He was my brother. He was my friend. And now he's not."

"I haven't told you this, but I'm really sorry you have to experience this."

"So am I. But you've been of so much help, and I can't thank you enough."

"It's nothing," I assured her again. "Are you sure you want to do this? You still have minutes to back out. We're going to literally kick his ass, and sabotage his life."

"Violence isn't really my language, but I could make an exception."

"Awesome," I smiled for the fourth time of that day.


The drive to Sam's apartment couldn't be any longer enough. I can feel the adrenaline starting to build up inside me. I can sense Brittany squirming on her seat but I can't tell whether it's excitement or nervousness.

"Brittany, you don't have to do anything. You can just watch or not at all."

"Bullshit. I want to afflict some pain as well. It would make me feel less sorry."

"Oh," I smirk, "It's more than 'feeling less sorry,' Britt, trust me. It's liberating."

"What, you're used to kicking people's ass?"

"That's one way to put it. And I've been in Judo classes since I was fifteen. For self-defense, my dad said. Little did he know I was going to be so abrasive and use it for self-offense."

She giggles, "That's cute."

I just had to look at her weirdly by then. That's supposed to be hot; not cute.

And since we're still far away, according to my GPS, Brittany and I were left with our own thoughts. The blonde had her forehead against the car window, while I had to fixate my attention on driving.

I thought about what's so special with her that I let her cry on my shoulder, hold my hand, buy her food, lend her my slippers, and let her sit in my baby. I wonder what's with her that makes me want to take care of her. She's attractive, I'll give you that. But I've seen attractive girls before, and none of them made me so soft. I admit I have a tough exterior, which loosens up through time, but with this girl? It didn't even go up from the first time we met up until now. Was it because I spotted her in a very vulnerable state? I see my three exes be vulnerable in front of me more often than not, but it doesn't affect me even by bit. I may have been satiated, but it still tells something.

I'm drawn into Brittany, and it's simple as that.

"I see his car," she says when we're nearly at Sam's apartment.

"Lesson number one: Control yourself," I glanced at her coolly. "I know you're furious like you're sentenced to play Flappy Bird for the rest of your life, but we have to measure our actions."

She grins at me like I'm her mentor or something.

"We walk up to his door, you knock, and you're the first thing he sees. If he's not banging a chick, I'll hit him square in the jaw." Brittany cringes at this idea. I turned off the ignition. "Lesson number two: It's not always about power; It's knowing where to hit. I'll make him weak, and you'll kick his balls for finishing touches. Got it?"'

"Yes, ma'am," she nods assertively.

"And his car, well, that's easy. We destroy it in numerous ways we could think about." I set my eyes on her, all hint of playfulness gone. "Brittany, this is the last time I'll ask: Are you sure you want to do this?"

"What's your name?"

"Santana," I say matter-of-factly.

"Yes, Santana, I am very sure," she answers in the same manner.

And we were out of the car.

We rode the elevator, up to the fifth floor. Brittany was leading the way because I obviously didn't know where the asshole lived.

"Santana," she calls out. I like the sound of it from her. "This is his door."

"Yeah?" I say, scanning her face.

"Yeah," she nods and she knocks.

It took less than a minute for the door to swing open.

To say Sam has a big mouth and was a mess would be an understatement. His hair was ruffled in the wrong places, and not in the boy-next-door kind of way. His bowtie was undone on his neck, hanging loosely. His eyes looked like he had been crying. That's good, I thought. He should be.

When he saw who was on the other side of the door, however, his face lightened up. Everything about him turned up. I could feel it. Brittany was indifferent, though.

"Brittany," he says in astonishment. "I knew you'd always come back. I love you so much, please forgive me. I can-"

I didn't let him finish his bullshit. I pinched his nose with my two fingers and twisted it forcefully. I think he didn't notice I was there. He wiggled his face to escape from my hold, but I was stronger. I had him.

"The hell is this?" Sam mustered to ask aloud.

"Wrong answer," I mutter and hit him on the face. He didn't have time to react, and all he could really do was greet my fist openly. I punched him once on the jaw, and another and another. I karate-chopped the part of the neck where I know it would hurt so bad. He cries in pain and got down to his feet. I kicked him once on the side, and twice to the other. He was a no fight, and I don't think he'd even try to. He knows he deserves this. That doesn't make him less of a prick, though.

I looked at Brittany, and she was expressionless. It was kind of scary.

"Do it, Brittany," I gave her the green light.

She did it readily. She kicked his ex-fiancé's balls with so much aggravation I thought he would lose the ability to produce sperm. I couldn't care less.

The whines of agony of Sam resonated in his own apartment. I'm sure that hurt.

Brittany looked at him dead in the eye. "We're over, do you hear me? You're a hypocrite. You threw away everything we had so easily. We're over."

Sam, with blood drooping from his nose and mouth, could only nod.

Just like her earlier, I grabbed Brittany's hand as if it's the most nonchalant thing to do. I led her out, and we ran the stairs.

"Feeling better?" I asked with a huge grin.

"Much," she says.

I let Brittany destroy Sam's car by her own, because I believe she needed that moment. I took out two baseball bats from my trunk, and gave one to her. Don't ask me why I'm always ready; I just am.

Sam's grey Prius went to alarm with Brittany's first hit and it was so noisy. She attacked the windows first. The glass shattered to shards and another wave of protectiveness hit me, thinking Brittany would get hurt. The reassured smile and giddy thumbs up she gave me, though, cleared all my doubts. So I instigated her to keep going, to lose herself. She did. She kept hitting angrily I thought her arms would fall off of her body. But, of course, she's stronger than she looks. She hit the doors, the side mirrors, and she looked like it wasn't a tough job.

I ran back to my car and took the tray of eggs and spray paint Brittany and I bought from a convenience store after finishing our burritos.

From where I stood, I threw eggs to Sam's car, happy to help. It landed on the hood. I was of course careful not to hit Brittany. I actually have a good aim. The runaway bride stopped hitting when she heard the 'plok' of the egg and smiled at me so goofily. She's like a child let loose on doing something she isn't supposed to be doing. I grinned straight at her just because she's infectious like that.

Brittany ran to my place, panting. She was flushed and her forehead was glistening with sweat. She exhaled a big 'hooh' when she reached me.

"Can I?" she asked, motioning for the eggs.

I nod.

She eagerly grabs an egg and throws it just perfectly. "That's for wasting everything we endured!" She grabs another, and throws again. "That's for making me feel stupid! I thought you loved me, but you were so easy to touch another girl. Fuck you, Sam! Fuck you!"

Needless to say, all of the eggs remaining were used up by Brittany. She may have started crying again, but just like earlier, I didn't mind.

I decided it was time to contribute my share to the Prius' dents and shards. I went over Sam's parking slot, hit the front, breaking the glass there. I left the bat, and opted for a knife. I slashed his tires – all of it.

"Brittany," I called over, as I was using the spray paint. "Your turn."

"Okay," she says, and paints her own artwork on Sam's car.

When she was done, she dropped the spray paint to the ground, emitting the clinking sound. She checks out our finished masterpiece, and she seemed satisfied. I am, too.

The once slick Prius is now ruined to bits. It is undistinguishable. The words 'dick' and 'cheater' were outstanding by its side. I would have applauded if Brittany hadn't grabbed my arm. It brought me back to reality.

"Run!" I screamed, all giggly.

And we did. We ran away to safety.


"I've never felt so deviant and liberated in my whole life," Brittany says once we're in the car and calmed down.

"I know what you mean," I offered a friendly smile. "Where to now?"

I was waiting for her answer, also focused on speeding off. She was taking long to respond and I thought she was mulling it over. When the traffic light turned red, I looked at her and saw she was in a sleeping state. She's fast asleep.

I was captured by the sight of her. My heart started to beat rapidly, and I wanted to touch her. I could look at her sleeping, at peace, for the rest of my life. She's that kind of art.

One more look, I swear, I'm a goner.


A/N: Alright, you guys, tell me what you think. Go or no? Also, hi!