Disclaimer: I don't own Glee, I do however own this story, I'm just borrowing the characters.

A/N: This is my longest chapter to date. I was going to write more but I thought it best to end it when I did. Also 9 reviews for my last chapter? You guys made me really happy – so happy that I stayed up until 1:43 a.m sorting this chapter out because I wanted to post it up Christmas Eve. I'm pretty sure this is why I need a beta, as I just re-read it a billion times and then when I post it up I notice more mistakes.

Songs used/ referred to in this ff: Needle In The Hay by Elliott Smith,

Warm Whispers by Missy Higgins,

Video Games by Lana Del Rey,

There For You by Flyleaf.

So Merry Christmas and have a Happy New Year! Please leave a review – they are always appreciated.

Sincerely C x


"... I didn't know if I was capable of loving you. One moment I did, then the next moment I didn't." I couldn't believe the lie that was coming out of my mouth. My courage had gone; the apprehension of telling her was too much.

"I still love you San. But I don't know if I am able to at the moment." She knows I'm lying. I watch as her mouth opens and closes a couple of times.

"Are you sure that's what you wanted to say Britt?" Her eyes are searching mine in the dark. She knows, but she isn't calling me out on it.

"Yeah, that's all."

"Britt, you know you can talk to me right? I'm alwa-" I cut her off by revving the engine and pulling away from the curb.

I switch the radio on to try to dilute the silence, but the melancholy of Elliott Smith's voice resonates with the darkness within me so I turn the dial again to snap the sound off.

She eyes me curiously, folding her hands in her lap and biting her lip.

"You will tell me the real reason eventually won't you?" She breaks the silence. The words hang heavily in the air between us. She then stares out of the passenger window when I don't respond right away.

"Maybe." I say and we plunge back into being quiet.

Quinn's road is packed with cars and there are very few spaces left. This party will probably get broken up within the hour, as the curtains are twitching with curious and furious neighbours watching the youths stumble drunkenly in and out of her house.

Before I have even stopped the car completely Santana has unbuckled her seatbelt and is already opening up the driver's door. I unbuckle my seatbelt as she offers her hand -I smile a little. I take her hand and she pulls me from the car.

I look all around and see familiar and unfamiliar faces. Some people are walking away down the road hand in hand; others are sharing passionate kisses beneath the Buckeye tree. I can see silhouettes stumbling around just beyond the windows and then there's me and Santana surveying this chaotic scene.

"Do you want to go in?" She speaks so softly I almost didn't hear her. When I don't respond she wraps her hand around my clenched fist, stroking soothing circles onto the back of my hand. Eventually I unfurl my fingers as she threads her fingers through mine. This is the first symbol of affection that we have shared in a long time.

"Let's go" she murmurs, she pulls at me gently and I follow.

The front door is on a latch so we let ourselves in and immediately I feel overwhelmed by the noise and the stench of alcohol.

We make our way to the kitchen and I try to find Quinn but I can't see her. The crowd is too thick with bodies swaying and gyrating to the music. We do however see Puck standing in the corner, a red cup in hand taking large gulps of whatever is inside it.

Santana sees him the same time that I do, she stiffens slightly as if seeing a ghost and then turns to face me.

"I'm going to go sort this out now ok Britt?" My pulse quickens minutely, but I know she'll be ok. Still I wonder how he'll take it, especially after his threat the other day. I'm fearful of the repercussions.

I watch her walk away, taking quick steps towards him. As Puck sees her he smiles, but that same glow fades quickly, his expression turning into a frown. I see her gesture towards the glass doors that lead out into the garden, he nods and they disappear back out into the night.

I'm standing alone now, watching girls making out with each other in front of crowds of guys, another girl up on the coffee table stripping to a song I don't recognise. It hits close to home as I realise that used to be me. I used to be "that girl" the stripper drunk, the one who never said no, the one who was up for anything, anytime. But then I grew up. I was forced to grow up.

A short bob of blonde hair catches my eye and I realise its Quinn.

Quinn who is currently rubbing up against Sam.

Sam wearing a look that I recognise all too well. I remembered the way he looked at me before when Santana had slapped me by accident. A slight smile tugging at his lips.

It feels as if ice is running through my veins and my mind switches off. I can't break down here, not now.

From the way she is swaying and having to steady herself by holding onto him I can tell she is drunk. I'm looking a little more closely as his hand trails up to her neck and to the back of her head forcing her to lean in slightly the action seems vicious and predatory. He's commanding her, being rough and aggressive with her. It is all too familiar. He says something in her ear and I can't tell if she is ok.

He grabs her hand and pulls her roughly away, almost out of sight.

Before I know it, my feet are propelling me forwards, pushing my way through a drunken crowd of guys whooping and hollering at another girl stripping. I use all the force that I can, moving bodies out of my path.

I push and I push, just in time to see him lead her out of the front door. I run outside, the cold air hitting me unexpectedly. I can't tell if it's the weather or the panic that is knocking breath after breath from my lungs but it is leaving me gasping.

I can hear what he is saying now, ringing out crystal clear.

"Come on Quinn. I just want to get to know you better that is all." I shudder at the tone of voice, bringing back memories. Memories that I have tried so hard to suppress these past few months.

"Quinn" I shout from across the lawn. She turns to look at me and I can't quite read her expression. But I can see him scowl, then smooth out his expression.

"Quinn" I repeat myself, his eyes boring into me. "Come here I need to talk to you." The calmness of my voice contrasts the sickness and urgency that has settled in my stomach.

"She's fine with me Brittany." His tone is biting as he tugs on her hand sharply. Her head lolls from me to him then back to me.

"Britty," she slurs, "he wants to talk to me about some private stuff. I'm ok. I'll see you in there."

His satisfied smile spurs me into action. It's as if he is mocking me with just his eyes.

"Let go Sam," I say, restraining myself from sprinting towards them and pulling her away. I can't take him on. I couldn't before and I wouldn't be able to now.

"She told you and I told you. She is fine with me Brittany." I can sense it in his tone now. Now that there is someone else confronting him he is less sure of himself. He tugs on her hand once more.

"Quinn. Don't go anywhere with him." Her eyes snap to mine.

"Britty, I know what I'm doing. Quit being so protective all the time. You're not my mother." I ignore the mocking tone she is using.

"Quinn you don't know what you're doing. I'm not letting you go anywhere with him." I'm standing right by them now and I can hear my pulse thudding. The adrenaline is kicking in.

"Why shouldn't I? He wants to talk about Finn. Finn, he, he doesn't want me. Her - he chose her Britty over me." She is still swaying on her feet.

"Let go – now Sam." I ignore her question, but she keeps prodding.

"Why should he?"

"Because-" His eyes widen minutely, but then he is back to cool and placid.

"Because..." Quinn is putting all of her focus on me now, scrunching up her eyes.

"He raped me."

It's as if someone freeze framed this moment. He loosens his grip from her wrist and her arm drops and swings by her side.

The cold air is no longer felt, the sorrow, the pain the secrecy is all gone in this moment.

The pent up frustration and anger that was a mere ember before is now fire. I feel hot.

"Sam raped me Quinn." I say it with conviction this time, but she is motionless.

"If this is a joke Britty it's not very funny." She says. He is strangely composed, standing back and waiting to be addressed.

I shake my head mournfully. "It's not a joke he did it. He's the reason I am the way I am."

He lets out a humourless laugh. "Britt, don't be stupid. Why would I do that?" I stare at him in disbelief. He is so confident and so collected I almost lose faith in myself. But he is playing a game. Sam Evans is pretending to be sure of himself.

"I said no Sam. I said no a thousand times over but you still did it didn't you?" Quinn suddenly seems sober, her face paling slightly under the moonlight. I can see the doubt though and that hurts. She is weighing up the options. Sweet, innocent Sam so dumbfounded by my accusation and me, the party girl who never says no, who is always up for sex with anyone who comes her way.

"Brittany," she says sternly, "tell me you're joking." I shake my head and so she turns to Sam.

"Sam is it true?" I feel betrayed that she can't seem to take my word alone.

"Of course it isn't. Honestly Quinn I don't know what she is talking about." His attention is all on her. There's another beat of silence.

"There you are. Britt I've been looking everywhere for you." Santana's voice is light and syrupy and right now I wished I had told her sooner. I wished that this wouldn't be the moment when she would find out.

The tension was thick and smothering as me and Sam held a staring contest. He wasn't going to win this time, he had been haunting me every step since that night. I wasn't backing down.

"What's going on?" Santana looks confused, trying to read each one of our expressions.

"Brittany has accused Sam of raping her." Quinn's voice is lifeless, dead to the core. Just like me.

"Britt?" Santana's voice is shaking as she calls to me, but I'm still staring at him, I see him begin to crack.

"Britt look at me." I reluctantly break my stare to look at her. I see the darkness swell, the light inside of her is extinguished.

"Britt are you? Did he?" All I have to do is nod once. That's all it takes.

Santana launches herself at him, knocking him to the floor and taking him by surprise.

"You." She just repeats herself over and over as she scratches him, punches him until he bleeds. He tries to grab her hands but she is too quick for him.

I wrap my arms around her waist and drag her away from him.

"You fucking bastard. I will kill you." She practically spits the words at him as he scrambles to his feet.

"San shh," I say, as a group of people are beginning to walk over to watch what is happening. "San shh, please, for me. Shh." But she is still struggling against my arms, albeit a bit weaker than before. He is running away now, but not before he turns around and shouts over his shoulder.

"You're a fucking liar Brittany. You wanted it just as much as I did." His words are strong, but his composed facade has ebbed away now, I can almost taste his fear. Still, what he says strikes something in me, it's something akin to regret.

Quinn is still standing wide eyed, trying to fathom what had transpired. I know she still doubts me, ever so slightly.

I feel a drop of water hit my arm. "San?" But I'm greeted with a heaving sob. "San, please don't cry." She takes in a shuddering breath.

"San, please. Everything will be ok. You know now. You know my secret." Well, she knows part of it. I let her go and she stands with her back to me. When she eventually turns to face me her eyes are a little red.

"Quinn, I think San and I are going to go. Probably best if you kick people out? Call it a night?" Santana has gone eerily calm and it's unnerving.

"Yeah I think you're right."

"Do you have anyone who could stay with you?" After all I don't want her to be by herself. I don't know if she will go into shock or what. Just, I don't want her left alone.

"Do you think Mike, Tina or Mercedes will stay with me?"

"I think all three of them will stay if you ask them." I don't know how but I manage a small smile just for her. With that she hurries back inside, leaving us in silence.

I felt liberated now as if even having the potential to talk about it freed me in some way. But these kinds of emotions are always fleeting and accompanied by self loathing shortly afterwards. I know that the next time I am left alone those ghostly fingers would come back – pinning my wrists down time and time again. It's something that I realise I will be living with for the rest of my life, although I remember my plans for tonight.

But glancing at her, seeing the lost look in her eyes I feel the need to comfort her first.

"San?" My voice is hoarse as I realise she hasn't spoken to me directly since hitting Sam. "Let's go San? Back to mine or yours?"

"Mine" she says, her voice a monotone as she walks back over to my car. I slide in; I can't stand the quiet anymore it's like a weight crushing me; so I put a CD in, the gentle introduction leads into a painfully sweet voice. The music flows so beautifully and I am willingly engulfed by the lyrics. This song had always reminded me of Santana back when I could be romantic – when I was capable of feeling emotions that were stable and consistent.

The second song is equally as soothing, the road lights flash strips of orange through my car windows. I look out of the corner of my eye at her and she seems to have warmth to her, a soft, hazy glow that only she can possess. I focus back on the road at hand and for the first time in awhile I don't feel so alone.

When we arrive at Santana's house she leaps up from her seat and rushes around to my side to open the door. I step out and onto the sidewalk, before I take another step I hold out my hand for her to take.

"San, can we just stay here for a second?" She scrunches up her eyebrows.

"Why? It's cold and we have – things – that we need to talk about." I gesture up to the night sky.

"I haven't seen the stars this bright for a long time." She is so still that I look at her to see if she heard, but her face is tilted towards the sky, her mouth is open her breaths curling out into the winter air.

"Have I ever told you what my mom used to say to me when I was little?"

"No" she says. I tighten my hand around hers as we continue to look up.

"My mom used to say that stars were angels; that there are so many stars because every single person on this earth needed their own angel. She said that if you asked them they would keep you safe and make your wishes come true."

I feel her shift closer to me.

"Did you – did you ask when it happened?"

"Yes I did," I lick my lips to try and moisten them in this cold dry air. "Don't get me wrong, I know it's not true. I stopped believing that when I was 12. But it brought me comfort. I had tried to fight back but I couldn't, that was the only thing left I could do."

Santana let's go of my hand and goes to hug me, but I recoil. I am reliving those moments and I am unclean, I don't want her to touch me anymore than holding my hand. She notices but she doesn't comment on it.

"Let's go inside and talk ok? It's cold and I don't want you to get sick." I look up once more, sending up a silent wish – a wish that is just for me. I follow her up to the door and I remember the last time I had been here.

I had been an observer from the lawn to Santana and Puck. I steadied my nerves and quelled the ache in my stomach. She fumbles with her keys trying to find the right one in the darkness. Eventually she does and the door swings open into the pitch black. She disappears inside and within moments the lights flicker on.

She is so incredibly tense. "Do you want a drink? Or do you want to go upstairs first?" Under any other circumstance I would've laughed and probably remarked back. But this thing that is happening right now. This moment is so loaded with anxiety.

"I'm fine, let's just go to your room." She leads the way up the stairs, almost as if I would've forgotten. But I could never forget.

When I entered her room I immediately noticed some changes. The toys and ornaments that I had thrown from my window before now sat in a corner, broken and dirtied with the exception of my duck that sits back on my shelf in my room. She follows my stare and looks embarrassed.

"I was going to return them to you, I just didn't know when." Santana looks flushed, I feel my own face get warm in return.

I feel awkward standing here, mainly because I am a stranger in this room now and I shouldn't presume anything.

"Sit down on my bed Britt. I'm just going to get changed. You can borrow any clothes you want ok? You know where they are." With that she scoops up her sweat pants and a t-shirt, giving me one last look over her shoulder she departs but not before asking if I'll be ok.

I take a closer look at her room. Where the walls were once solidly black, she now has silver patterns breaking it up so it appears less intimidating. I look a little closer and realise that it is actually a scene a silver moon illuminating the tops of clouds. I wonder when she had created this. The black and chrome furniture is still the same, except the bed has been moved to directly beneath the clouds. I can't stare for too long as its making me feel melancholy.

I reacquaint myself with the whereabouts of Santana's clothes. In particular, the burgundy Harvard t-shirt and Yale sweatpants I would always wear them whenever I would stay over. They were gifts that San's parents had brought back from New York and Connecticut; she had scoffed at them at the time as she felt it was just another way for her parents to pressure her. I change into the clothes quickly; I'm just pulling the top down as Santana walks through the door.

I was trying to postpone this because I didn't want her to judge me when I told her the whole story.

"Britt you can start talking when you're ready ok?" But she is staring at me expectantly – it's really unnerving, I'd imagine this is what it felt like being interrogated.

"I- I need you to turn around San. I find it difficult to speak freely unless I imagine I'm alone." She raises her eyebrow but climbs onto the bed her back to me. I follow suit and we're sitting back to back.

I feel an unpleasant tingle work its way down my chest then back up my throat. I exhale to try and calm myself but I shudder instead.

"So we started arguing about you kissing that girl and I stormed out. I was furious with you, I felt so betrayed. I had to start walking home because you had driven that night. I was walking for awhile, I can't remember for how long. I guess it doesn't even matter."

I take in another deep lungful of air to steady myself.

"Puck pulls up in Sam's car. He's driving and Sam is drinking in the passenger seat. They ask me if I need a lift and I say ok. Puck asked me why I was walking around at this time of night and I told him I had had a crap night. He asked me if I wanted some drink and I said yes."

I'm getting lost in the memory and I have to pull myself back to the present. It's as if I'm there watching the events unfold knowing what is about to happen but not being able to stop it.

"Puck drives a little while longer and then we pull up somewhere. I just remember seeing a lot of trees. We got out of the car and started passing bottles around. I felt so warm and my mind was fuzzy. Sam began to flirt with me, doing stupid impressions to try and make me laugh. Puck was laughing too, now that I think about it he was drunk and driving but at the time I didn't give it a second thought. All I could think about was how I could upset you the way you had upset me."

My heart begins to beat a little faster, my mouth goes dry.

"San, can I have a glass of water please?" She is already off the bed and hurrying out of the door. I hold my head in my hands dreading telling her. I would be admitting that part of this was my fault - I had done wrong as well.

I rub my face to try and relieve the tension but it doesn't work. I open my eyes when I hear her drawing closer, her arm is outstretched with the glass of water.

"Thanks" I mumble, I take the water gratefully taking large gulps but it does nothing to soothe the dryness of my mouth.

"So, I wanted to hurt you. So I kissed Sam. I kissed him for awhile, because at the time it made sense. After all I was drunk and you had been drunk when you kissed the girl. His kisses were becoming rough and his hands were just," I swallow down the lump in my throat. "He was trying to touch me everywhere. I told him to stop, I did but he didn't listen. I started to struggle but he was so strong San. I asked Puck to help but he just got up and walked away. He abandoned me knowing what was probably going to happen."

I look down at my wrists as if I would be able to see the red imprints of Sam's fingers lingering there.

"I told him no, that I didn't want to. But he said that I always did, I just needed persuading. He said he wanted to know what all the fuss was about being with me." Santana doesn't say a word, but she twists her arm so her hand is out to the side palm up. She knows I'm finding it difficult, I take her hand gratefully.

"He said I moved too much, but I was struggling against him. He pinned my wrists down and that's when I knew. I knew it was all over San. I gave up and I- I" I was trying to fend off my tears until I was done telling her but I couldn't. It felt as if I was back there again.

"I made my wish to my star, to keep me safe, to stop this from happening but nothing happened. No one could save me. I remember feeling cold and sore I wanted to be numb - to not feel but I couldn't, but at the same time I couldn't cry. It was such a weird feeling San. I didn't watch him leave, I just heard him stumble. I don't remember how long I had taken getting home I just walked. The sun began to show as I unlocked the front door and crept up the stairs. I went straight into the bathroom and turned on the shower."

Santana grips my hand a little tighter.

"I wanted to be clean. I wanted to wash him off of my skin, but what he had done ran a little deeper than skin and bone. I kept scrubbing as if it would get rid of him but I couldn't. It was a few hours later when I noticed the bruises starting to appear. So I wore the baggy clothes, the sweatpants and long sleeves. My mom just thought we had had an argument and left me alone. I didn't want to tell her because I was partially to blame. I led him on."

"Stop Britt." I jumped a little as I had almost forgotten she was here listening.

"Britt none of this is your fault." She let's go of my hand, I can feel her turn around, but I don't want to see the look in her eyes.

She engulfs me in a hug from behind and murmurs that it's not my fault over and over again. I feel weak and exhausted.

"So-" she says after awhile of rocking me. "Puck didn't do anything? Even though he was there and heard you say no?" I nod my head slowly.

"He... well he turned up at my house and my mom let him in. He came into my room and told me to not make a sound. I asked him why he didn't help me. That Sam had raped me, but he told me I had gotten it wrong. I said I was going to call the police, I think he panicked. He started saying about his record and how he'd been drinking. He wasn't making any sense. But when I said again that I didn't care that I was going to tell the police, he covered my mouth with his hand smothering my words. He pressed me against the wall so hard – leaving more bruises across my shoulder blades - saying that it would be a big mistake. That no one would believe someone as slutty as me."

I could feel Santana shaking now. Her fury had been pent up until now.

"We are calling the police Britt. They can't get away with this." I move away from her and fold in on myself.

"I'm not going to. It's too late now. Too much time has gone by. There's no point. When it comes down to it who do you think they are going to believe? Sam and Puck who are ready to back each other up? Or me with my reputation?"

I can see she is no longer listening and instead, calculating different ways of exacting revenge.

"They need to be punished Britt. If the law doesn't come through for you, I will. I'll give them a sense of justice." Her tone is biting and her face has distorted into a mask of malice.

"Why aren't you listening San? I have told you and now you're trying to force me to tell more people. You don't get it. I was at fault here. Me. I'm putting it behind me, but if I tell the police I'll be going through it all again."

"But you saw what almost happened tonight! Britt he had almost taken Quinn. What about other girls? Other girls vulnerable like you who are susceptible to him and his strength? You need to."

I get up from the bed, shaking my head. I start to pick up my clothes and my keys to my car.

"Where are you going?" She sounds panicked as I head for the door.

"Britt! Come back!" I run down the stairs and out of the front door, Santana is close at my heels but not quite fast enough. I'm already locked safely in my car, but she runs out in front and then stands there her hands resting on the hood.

"Get out of the way!" I shout but she doesn't move. Instead, she shouts back at me to get out of the car.

I tell her that I'm going to call Steph if she doesn't move. She reluctantly moves. As I pull away I look in my rear-view mirror to see her running inside her house. I press my foot on the gas to get me home quicker.

I can't cope and Lacey Sturm's voice seems almost mocking belting out there for you from the CD. I grit my teeth and swallow down my sudden anger.

I will get home and fulfil my plan tonight. I was only two minutes away, so whatever Santana was planning on doing wouldn't prevent me from carrying it out.

I had done as I had promised myself. I told her, I was honest with her.

Now was my time to finally rest.