I'll be honest. I know that I changed up my personal writing style quite a bit in this story, but I kinda like how it's working out. There is a lot more of a... poetic quality to it. It's a really great way to just be all creative and take some creative liberties because i'm not in any way shape or form confining myself to typical literary rules. I love the way this story is coming along. I know that so far it's been rather anticlimactic, but stick with me. We'll see where my brain takes this. It has a tendency to pull some crazy shit without me even realizing it.

Enjoy

Santana's dreams were plagued with visions of Brittany. All she saw was rivers of eyes as blue as anything she's ever seen before. Long locks of luscious blonde seemed to seep from the heavens, and life was filled with bubblegum smiles and the sound of gleeful giggles. But that doesn't stop when the dream turns into a nightmare and there's a hollow pounding in her head. Her eyes move frantically beneath her lids, searching for a fix in this magical Brittany-filled dreamland. She feels her body starting to shake, and within her dream, she hopes that that's it. Maybe she's only dreaming. Maybe her body isn't going into a total panic mode. Maybe, just maybe, on the outside she's cool, calm and collected.

But when a sharp stab seemed to blossom within her chest right beneath where her heart is (supposed to be), she jolts up in bed and notices that her entire body is covered in a thin film of sweat. Her loose t-shirt damply clung to her near-skeletal body and her hair was plastered against her face.

So much for dreaming.

She wondered when she would find herself sick of the routine. Day in and day out, life seemed to repeat itself. It was the monotonous motions of wake up, have a fix, go to work, have a fix, maybe go to a party, maybe remember to eat food, have a fix, sleep. She was too young to be bored of life. Twenty four years of age isn't the time when you should get so caught up in a repetitive routine that you're bored and need to find new and exciting ways of entertaining yourself. You're twenty four. Life should be exciting as it is.

Santana graduated high school with high honors. Shocking, considering she spent most of her junior and senior year up in the clouds. But she was salutatorian. She ran for student council. She was captain of the cheer squad and took them to nationals and won. That's what Santana did. She was a functioning addict.

So how did she end up where she is now? How did she go from being HBIC, on top of the world, with every other person on the planet eating from the palm of her hand and having all of the opportunities life could offer her sitting at her feet, to this; a wasted shell of a person, reliant on any drug she could get her hand on that day?

Santana wasn't picky.

Of course she had her preferences. Everyone has a drug of choice. But sometimes you fall in so deep that it doesn't matter to you anymore.

Beggers can't be choosers.

She peeled herself away from the damp-with-sweat sheets lying on her mattress and tried to roll over her body towards the edge of her bed. Every move she made was painful. It was like her body was just a hollow mess of dead weight she had to carry everywhere she went.

Back in high school, she was hot. She was lean muscle, toned stomach, legs for days and eyes bright with fire. But that was gone. Her eyes were dull and faded. Her skin didn't glow. Her hair lost its sheen and her muscles were eaten away by her body, pissed off at her for not feeding it food.

Sometimes, the high is all the food she needs.

She wondered if Brittany would get it. She wondered if Brittany would even understand. She figured that even Brittany, who doesn't seem like the brightest crayon in the box, had to have figured out that Santana was all kinds of messed up.

She could only imagine what she looked like in Brittany's blue eyes. She wondered what Brittany would think if she actually saw her.

That was a weird thought to her. Santana never cared what people thought of her. She gave up caring when she realized that the high would take away the beauty she worked hard for anyway.

Why bother try if it was going to be snatched away from her?

Maybe that's why Santana wasn't the same girl she was in high school. Back then, she was motivation. That fire in her eyes would get her anything she wanted, because she wasn't willing to back down to anything. People in the halls feared her because they knew that if she wanted to get to something, she would knock over and step on anyone who would ever dare be stupid enough to get in her way.

The only thing Santana feels that passionate about now is her next fix. With nothing but pure desperation, she reached over to her bedside table and searched for her little baggie of the magical white powder. The white powder that made all of the bad go away, even though Santana knew that it brought its own type of bad right along with it.

But that didn't matter. Consequences didn't matter. The burn in her nose and the occasional nose bleed seemed tolerable if it meant that she got to experience that single moment of pure euphoria when the high hit her brain. In that moment, everything was okay.

Santana inhaled sharply and threw her head back in a sigh. A wave of happy drowned every one of her senses. Logically, she knew it didn't make sense. But, all she could feel, smell, see, hear and taste, was happy. And it was that level of happy that made life manageable. She reached for her phone and saw that she had a text.

From: Brittany

Hey Sanny. Can I call you Sanny? I like it. It fits you. It's short and cute, kinda like you. Anyways, I was planning on going for a jog later today around the park, probably like 1pm, and I wanted to know if you wanted to come with me.

Santana glanced at the time. Half past noon. She really needed to work on regulating her sleep schedule so that she slept at normal people hours. But she sent Brit a text that she'd meet her at the spot where they had fed the ducks, and found a way to completely peel herself from her bed and over to her closet.

It had been a while since Santana last went running. She used to all the time. She used to be the pinnacle of great shape. She would run and lift and jump like it was her job (because it sorta was) and look damn good doing it. But now, even the size extra small gym shorts that she owned drooped slightly on her thin hips. The tanktop that should have been tight spandex against toned abs fell loosely against her tiny frame and her collar bones stuck out so prominently that it looked like the bone was about to poke through her dull skin.

With a hint of blush to add some color to her face and putting her lifeless hair into a ponytail, Santana grabbed her car keys and drove over to the park. As she was getting out of the car, she saw Brittany already there, stretching. Her lime green shorts, mismatching rainbow knee highs and bright pink tshirt made Santana smile.

Santana hated that it made her smile.

"Hey there!" Brittany said with an excited giggle when she saw Santana walking up. "You ready for this?"

Santana's smile didn't fade. There was something about Brittany's intoxicating bubbly nature that brightened up Santana's day even when she didn't want it to.

"Ready as I'm gonna be," she said with a laugh. "But I hope you can keep up with me. I was sorta a big shit in high school."

Brittany quirked an eyebrow. "Oh? Let me guess… little miss cheerleader?"

Santana smiled. "How'd you guess?"

Brittany shrugged. "You look like enough of a bitch to be a damn good cheerleader."

Before Santana could reply back, Brittany took off at a slow jog. Santana ran a bit faster to catch up to her. "Did you run track in school or something?" Santana asked.

"No. I dance. Been doing it my whole life. I run a lot to stay in shape."

Santana smirked. "It's working."

Brittany paused for a minute and laughed. "Is that you calling me hot?"

This time, Santana said nothing. Instead, she let her legs carry her as fast as they could without snapping. She heard the sound of Brittany's giggle and footsteps as she too picked up speed.

Running was something Santana missed. She used to spend hours just running through her streets.

There was something so wonderfully calming about the repetitive thumping of her sneakers against the dark pavement, sending vibrations through her legs.

There was something so wonderfully poetic about how her body was carrying itself through the darkness, wherever she wanted it to take her.

There was something so wonderfully soothing about the knowledge that each step she took burned calories, shedding her of fat and building her into muscle.

Each breath she took into her lungs brought in oxygen, giving her that little ounce more she needed to take another couple steps.

But Santana wasn't that anymore. She knew it. From just a few moments after her starting to sprint, she realized just how badly her body was destroyed. The cool breaths weren't replenishing her energy. Instead they felt like something stabbing her. Something clawing at her being from the inside. Some terrible, horrible monster.

A monster like Addiction.

Her heart was beating in her chest so quickly that she heard it. It felt like every part of her body

thump

thump

thumped with her beating heart. Her head started spinning and her eyes started closing in on her, making her feel like she was looking through a tunnel that was narrowing more and more with each passing second.

Santana slowed down and rested her hands on her slightly bent knees as she tried to catch her breath, trying to not expose to Brittany that she was on the verge of passing out.

Brittany ran up beside her and stopped. Santana glanced up and hated her for just a second. Other than a few drops of sweat dripping from her brow and a slightly heaving chest, you wouldn't even be able to tell that she had been running. Meanwhile, Santana felt like death.

"You okay?" Brittany asked, looking down at Santana curiously. "You're not looking too hot."

Santana's vision was almost completely gone and her body started turning cold, but she still snorted. "I always look hot."

She couldn't see Brittany roll her eyes at her. In fact, she saw nothing until the next time her eyes were opening and she found herself in the passenger seat of a car and there were trees whizzing past her. Slowly she turned her head, fighting against the stiffness of her neck. She struggled to find her tongue in the dry Sahara of her mouth.

"Brittany," she managed. "Where are we going?"

"My house," Brittany said. "You passed out, so I picked you up and carried you to the car. You can rest on my couch and I'll make you some food."

Food.

At the sound of it, Santana's stomach growled as if in response. How long had it been since she had eaten real food? Her brain searched for an answer, but only registered a different type of hunger. A hunger that you didn't feel in your stomach but instead in your bones. A hollow ache and need.

Santana's mind started pounding. She needed a fix.

Fast

Soon

Now

But she couldn't tell Brittany that. She fought against the marching band in her brain and let herself be led out of the car once they parked in front of Brittany's house. She let herself be led to the couch. So much softer than her own couch, in a living room that was so much fancier than her own, in a house that cost much more than her own, in a much safer neighborhood.

She couldn't help but imagine what Brittany would ever say if she saw how Santana lived.

"Tea or coffee?" Brittany asked.

"Coffee," Santana said instantly, knowing her infatuation with the drink. "Black no sugar."

Brittany made a face but turned and started heading towards the kitchen. "That's gross," she called over her shoulder.

Santana thought of nothing but a high. She couldn't get her mind off of it. Every time she tried to force another thought into her mind, all she could see was primal desire for anything that could help her get her fix.

Fast

Soon

Now

Brittany walked into the living room with the coffee and handed it to Santana, who reached at the cup with eager hands.

It wasn't the drug she was looking for, but coffee had a special place in Santana's heart.

"I don't know how you drink that stuff," Brittany said, taking a sip of her own. "It's bitter and dark."

Santana chuckled into her steaming mug. "Just like me," she mumbled. "It's a perfect fit."

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