AN: Here you go, sorry for the wait on the update. I lost inspiration for this one, but on a 13 hour trip recently, I got inspired. So, here is chapter 2, and I'll try updating more often xoxox
I walked into the choir room the next day, and was faced with a group of depressed teenagers. The story of Brittany's death had been broadcast on every news station there was. Mike looked broken. Mercedes looked like someone had taken all of her tots, and Sue Sylvester seemed just as emotional as she had the day we all heard about her sister's death, last year. I, however, walked in, as if I was completely unfazed by it, despite the fact that inside, I was broken. I was hurting, and every time I heard her name, it made me feel so, so sick.
I took a seat in the very back of the room, all by myself. I didn't want to be near anyone, not even Brad, and Brad is like, the coolest guy ever. But I just felt the need to be isolated from everyone. Sure, a few people had lost people they loved too, but I still felt like nobody understood how hard Brittany's death was and is for me.
"Santana, you okay?"
"Leave me alone, Fetus Face."
"Santana, stop shoving this under the rug! We all know how much you miss Brittany. You don't think I'm still torn up about Rachel?"
I didn't listen. I simply blocked out each and every Glee member, one by one. I would occasionally tune in, but all I could hear was tears, silence, and occasional hurt voices. Like I said, they wouldn't get it. I loved Brittany. I wanted her to marry me one day, make babies for us... Not that she knew that. But that thought was gone. And I'm pretty sure that without her, I'm never going to go on. I lost my best friend, and a person can't recover from something like that.
"You guys, I know this is setting us back. We've lost some incredible, amazing, talented people, but we need to all focus on keeping ourselves safe. We can not let Jesse get any more of us. He is way too dangerous, guys. Have any of you seen him or anything?"
That's when I started listening again. Mr. Schue asking that, that was when I had to speak up.
"Yeah, I have. I got there just after he killed Brittany. I... I have seen him a few times before, every time, he does something to hurt me physically. But.. he won't kill me."
All eyes were on me now. Everyone was staring at me now, and with the looks they gave me, you'd think I had like, nine heads or some shit. It was true though, Jesse St. James would not kill me, and do not know why.
"Girl, what the hell are you talkin' about?"
I looked at Mercedes. I looked around at everyone else. And I stood up, walking to the front of the choir room, lifting up different bits of clothing, showing the, my bruises, and cuts, and scars, all from Jesse. I showed all of my stitches, and the other members of the club gaped at me.
"You'll all catch flies."
Then I walked out. I left the choir room, my hands balled into fists. I was so fed up with them all, they were lucky I didn't just kill them all, myself. None of them had been attacked. None of them know the fear that strikes through you.
I went home. Mami was with her friends for the rest of the week, and Daddy was at the hospital, working. So it was just me. You'd think that it would have occurred to me earlier, that before school, I should have locked up the windows too, not just the doors. But, I left my bedroom window open. I placed my backpack at the front door. I went up the stairs to my room, and saw the door open, the window open, and everything in place. It was odd. I walked in the room, and I soon heard my door slam.
Jesse was behind it, walking towards me with his hands in his pockets.
"Jesse!"
I screamed, to afraid. Not again. I could not take any more of this.
"Santana. I'm sure you've been good since I saw you last?"
"Yeah..."
He grabbed me, and shoved me on to the bed, pulling out his blade, placing it under my chin, against my neck. I started breathing quicker, scared breaths.
"Bullshit, Santana! I know you told someone what I've done to you. And for that, you will pay."
"Pay how?"
"You'll see."
He went back out the window, leaving me laying across the bed, shaking in fear. What was he going to do...? Oh god, who was going to be next? She was freaking out, not wanting more of her friends to die yet, because of a psychopath.
She stood up, amazed that she was free of any injuries that time. The way he looked at me, it made me see just how much he wanted to torture me.
I went to the window, shutting and locking it, locking my bedroom door, and laying under blankets, closing her eyes. His words about it not being over, stuck with her for this whole time. She went to sleep slowly, trying to get a good rest- she knew she would need it.
