Day 8
"Guys, wake up!" Quinn's voice made the two girls on the bed stir. Santana mumbled something incoherent, tightening her hold on Brittany's head closer to her chest as she shifted. "Wake up!" Quinn tried again. Santana's eyes finally opened and focused on Quinn's form hovering over them on the bed. Brittany groaned and lifted her head out of Santana's bosom.
Santana initially thought that Quinn woke them up because something had happened, but as soon as she saw that light was seeping through the curtains and Quinn was beaming brightly, she let her guard down.
"What's the matter, Quinn?" Santana croaked, her grogginess making her voice lower than usual. Brittany rubbed her eyes and sat up, messy blonde hair falling everywhere.
"We survived!" Quinn cheered. "I didn't hear anything at all during my shift! I think this works! Did you hear anything?"
"No, nothing happened during my shift," Santana mumbled. Quinn turned her eyes expectantly towards Brittany. It took a few seconds for Brittany to realise that Quinn was addressing her, so when she did, she jolted and fixed Quinn with an innocent look.
"Oh, none for me either," Brittany said, hands in her hair in a vain attempt to tame it.
"That means, that we kept the killer at bay tonight!" Quinn chirped exuberantly. "If we keep this up, we could make it out of here alive!" Santana could swear that Quinn was glowing.
"That's great!" Santana said, sitting up as well and starting to climb out of bed. "This is really good."
"What time is it Quinn?" Brittany asked, grabbing a comb from the bedside table and starting to drag it through her hair.
"I think it's eight," Quinn said. Then a thought popped up in her head. "Why did you wake me up late for my shift? You woke me up at like, five-thirty."
"You just looked adorable sleeping with my Sanny bear," Brittany smirked, setting the comb down. "You guys were literally cuddled up together."
"Were you not jealous or anything?" Santana asked.
"Nah," Brittany waved her hand. "Quinnie was just scared. Who knew that she was such a cuddle monster at heart, just like Sanny?"
"Hey!" Santana argued. "I'm not a cuddle monster!"
"If you say so," Brittany shrugged.
"Okay," Quinn interrupted, deciding to change the subject. "Should we go get some breakfast? We'll come back here as soon as we get the food. Actually, we could get lunch as well while we're at it."
"Or we can just get dinner as well while we're at it," Santana suggested.
"Sure, I don't really feel like eating right now though," Brittany said. She placed a hand over her stomach. "I don't feel so well."
Santana frowned. "What's the matter, Britt? Does it hurt or something?" she asked, gesturing to Brittany's stomach.
Brittany nodded. "I might need some ice." Santana walked over and lifted Brittany's shirt.
"Damn, Britt, is that from Puck?" Santana said, pointing to a big green mark on her stomach.
Brittany shrugged. "I think so. Or unless you or Quinn kicked me when you were asleep. I actually wouldn't put it past Quinn to do that, actually," Brittany smirked. "You thrash so much in your sleep."
"No, I don't!" Quinn replied hotly.
"You do, Quinn. You woke me up a few times because it was like you were having a seizure," Santana smirked.
Quinn huffed and turned her back on the two girls, sitting on the bed. "We getting food or what?"
"Yeah, we'll go get some food now," Santana said. "No one should be up this early. We can also grab more ice for Britt's bruises. Is your neck feeling better?"
Brittany rolled her neck a bit. "Yeah, a lot better. It nearly feels like it's normal now."
"Okay, well, we'll get some for your neck as well. Should we take something with us, just in case?" Santana asked.
"Let's take the candlestick," Brittany suggested, pointing to the object at the far side of the room, where it sat on the shelf. "Those things hurt like a bitch."
"Yeah, okay, so shall we go?" Santana looked over at Quinn.
"Yep," Quinn said, getting up and throwing a jacket over herself. Together, the girls left the room.
"So here I was, sitting on my chair in a bar when someone thought that I was wearing a wig!" Quinn babbled as the girls walked down the stairs. "I don't even know why! Does my hair look fake?"
"No," Brittany replied.
"That's what I thought!" Quinn prattled on. "That absolute douche just grabbed my hair! I don't even know why!"
"Wait, so what happened next?" Santana asked, amused.
"Well, obviously my hair didn't fall off," Quinn frowned slightly. "Actually, I think I might know why he tried to do that. He tried to hit on me, but I, uh, used some means to get rid of him. So he was trying to embarrass me, I think," Quinn said.
"How exactly did you get rid of him?" Brittany asked.
"Well," Quinn started to blush. "I was with a friend, so I just pretended that I was dating them."
"Them?" Santana smirked. "Who was this friend you are talking about?"
"That's none of your business!" Quinn said hotly.
"Was it a girl?" Brittany asked curiously.
Quinn's cheeks got even redder. "Yes," she answered in a quiet, meek voice.
"Attagirl!" Santana exclaimed. "I always knew you had a little gay in you, Quinn! I'm proud of you."
"I'm not gay," Quinn scowled, trying to sound as confident as she could. However, the waver in her voice did not go unnoticed to the two girls trailing just behind her on the staircase.
"Sure, sure," Brittany grinned mischievously.
"Whatever," Quinn said, walking down the final stair and landing on the ground floor. There was a U-turn from where Quinn was to the kitchen, so when Quinn turned around 180 degrees, she saw what was lying in the hallway before the couple behind her.
Quinn's scream could break someone's eardrums.
"What is that!" she shrieked, recoiling and darting past Brittany and Santana, sprinting up a few steps on the staircase. Curious, Santana turned as well to see what was in the hallway, but as soon as she did she instantly threw her arm across her face, covering her eyes and turning right back around.
"That is disgusting," Santana retched. "Do not look at that, Brittany."
Brittany, unfortunately, heard a little too late. She peeked around and saw the mangled body sprawled across the floor a few meters away from them, accompanied by a large puddle of drying blood.
"Is that M-Mercedes?" Brittany gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth.
"Maybe," Santana shivered. "Who else could it be?"
"Ugh," Quinn gagged. "I really thought that the killer didn't strike last night. I didn't hear anything."
"Me neither," Santana mumbled despondently.
"How are we even going to get food now? I don't think that we should just, step over her or something," Brittany said.
"Maybe close your eyes?" Santana suggested. "Or we can get the boys to carry her out."
"Carry who out?" Mike appeared at the top of the staircase. His eyebrows were furrowed, and he looked worried.
"I think it's Mercedes," Brittany said as Mike walked down the stairs. "She's been absolutely mutilated," she informed, sticking out a tongue. "She has like a hundred stab wounds in her."
Mike sighed. "Well, I guess we have to clean up around her before we carry her unless you want her blood everywhere."
"Wait, we?" Quinn squeaked. "I'm not helping!"
"I'll help," another voice spoke from the top of the staircase. "Who's died this time?"
"Oh, no you don't Sam," Santana growled. "Stay away from us!"
"Why?" Sam looked a bit offended. "Mike is with you guys, why can't I?"
"Because I don't trust you," Santana spat. "Just go away!"
"What is it with you?" Sam asked, starting to get angry. "I've done nothing!"
"Let him help," Brittany said quietly.
"W-What Britt? No!" Santana squeaked.
"He's not going to go whip out a knife and stab all of us," Brittany replied, laughing. "We do need an extra hand."
"Yeah, Britt's right," Mike said. "No one's going to hurt anyone. I'll go get some cloths and some water, and we'll clean up the blood." With that, Mike ascended the stairs again and passed Sam, who shifted to the side to let Mike pass.
Sam walked down the stairs, passing the girls and turned to see the corpse of Mercedes in the hallway. He scrunched up his face and threw an arm across it, partially blocking his sight.
"That is a nasty piece of work, isn't it?" he grunted.
"It is," Brittany agreed. "Looked like there had been a hell of a fight here."
"What do you mean?" Santana asked.
"The killer wouldn't stab her again and again if she was already dead. If I had to guess, the killer didn't go for Mercedes. Mercedes went for the killer."
Quinn gasped. "Damn! If only Mercedes won!"
"But she didn't," Brittany sighed. "Judging by the sickle she had, she tried to kill the killer. It probably was one hell of a fight, if the killer had to stab her that many times to make sure she was dead."
"Wait, Britt, how do you know she had a sickle?" Santana asked sceptically.
Brittany's eyes widened momentarily. "There was a sickle in the pool of blood," she muttered. "I don't know if you saw it or not."
"I think there was," Quinn confirmed. "I just thought that she was killed with the sickle."
"I don't know then," Brittany shrugged, blushing a little. "I was just guessing. I just think that those stab wounds look a lot like a knife's."
"How do you know that?" Sam frowned, who was still standing near the girls, unwilling to get close to the corpse. "Did you look at her up close or something?"
"I don't know, okay?" Brittany's cheeks reddened even more, much to the confusion of the people around her. Why was she blushing? "I was just trying to sound smart," she sighed.
"Britt, you are smart. For all you know, you could be right," Santana said comfortingly, and Brittany smiled weakly in response. At that moment, Mike came back downstairs with some cleaning supplies.
"You girls mind lending us a hand?" he asked.
Quinn scrunched up her nose. "I really don't want to," she whimpered. "Can I please not?" Mike looked towards Sam.
"Come on," Sam drawled. "Why is it always me that does the work? Let's just all do it together, pretend it's spilled wine or something, so that we can get it done and move on with whatever we were about to do!"
"Quinn," Brittany put a hand on her shoulder. "You can do the easier stuff. Like fetching us more water or rinsing out the cloths, okay? A little help is better than no help at all."
"Okay," Quinn conceded. "I guess I could do that."
"Great," Brittany breathed. "So, shall we get to work then?"
"This isn't going to be fun," Santana mumbled.
"No, it isn't," Mike concurred, plopping the bucket of water and some supplies on the floor on the ground floor.
"So, tell me what you guys have been doing these days," Mike said, popping a grape into his mouth.
After the whole Mercedes mess had been cleaned up, the guys asked the girls to eat breakfast with them. Initially, they were reluctant to accept, but under Brittany's influence, Santana and Quinn were persuaded and decided to join Mike and Sam at the dining table. After all, it had been a while since everyone sat down and talked. It was a good escape from reality funnily enough, as talking to each other as if everything was normal made everyone forget their fears about the killer, however briefly. It was a bit ironic, as the killer is sitting among them, but so far, everyone was acting normal and it really felt like they were hanging out at school again.
"Nothing much really," Sam answered first, taking a bite of his apple. "I was with Puck until he died, and while I was with Puck we normally just talked and we sometimes went outside looking for stuff, and that's when I found the shirt in the bushes. After he died, however, I spent the whole time in my room. I guess being alone with no one to talk to gave me a lot of time to think, it wasn't at all a bad experience at all if I'm going to be honest."
"Yeah, me too actually," Mike said. "I've been looking around the house as well when I just felt like walking around, I was actually hoping to find some keys. The ones to the front gate, you know? I also tried climbing the fences, but I don't want to get impaled so I didn't try to get over it."
"Hmm," Sam hummed. He then turned to the trio of cheerleaders, who were sat together at the far end of the table. "So what have you guys been doing? I heard music playing the whole afternoon yesterday."
"Oh, we were dancing," Brittany smiled at the memory. "We just thought to have some fun to keep the fear from our minds. Mainly Quinn's actually."
"Hey!" Quinn protested.
"Come on, you were totally freaking out," Brittany smirked, while Quinn started to pout. "We also got Quinn to dance."
"Wait, Quinn can dance?" Mike sounded mildly surprised.
"I'm offended," Quinn muttered under her breath.
"Of course she can," Brittany chimed. "She's just too shy to let loose. You should see her dance sometime. It's so good, like better than Santana's."
"Hey!" This time it was Santana who protested.
"Yeah, I'd like to see a dancing Quinn too," Mike smirked. "I bet it would be a sight to behold."
"It really is," Brittany agreed, nodding eagerly. "Why don't you show them sometime?" she asked Quinn.
"No," Quinn frantically shook her head. "Never!"
"Why do you talk so highly of her dancing?" Santana grumbled from her seat. "You never say that about mine."
"Aww, baby, are you jealous?" Brittany smirked, using a baby voice.
"Wait," Sam said abruptly. "You and Santana are back together?"
Santana frowned. "How did you know that we broke up?"
"Ahh, I may have let it slip," Quinn said meekly. "I swear it was used in an emergency!"
"Was it when Puck did, um, you know to Britt?" Santana asked. Quinn nodded, and Santana sighed.
"So, are you?" Sam said. There was a weird look in his eyes.
"Yeah," Brittany confirmed.
"H-How did this happen?" Sam asked.
"Um, we realised that we shouldn't have broken up, so we got back together?" Santana replied, in a slightly unfriendly manner.
"Oh," Sam deflated. "Right. Well, I guess I'll best be going," Sam mumbled, finishing up his apple and throwing it into the trash. He then left the room.
"He really needs to get over his crush," Santana said, shaking her head. "Did he seriously think that he had a chance? Or does he?" Santana suddenly said, sounding a bit unsure.
"You're silly," Brittany grinned. "He never stood a chance."
"Ok, good," Santana sighed.
"Well, I guess I'll go now as well. I don't really want to eat anymore," Mike stated, standing up. "Guess all the blood cleaning and carrying out a stinking body isn't all that good for your appetite."
"I agree," Brittany said, setting down her spoon which plopped into the bowl of dry cereal she was eating. She was eating dry cereal because there was no more milk, and she didn't really want to have it with water. "It was kind of disgusting."
"Yeah, anyway, I'll be off now," Mike announced. "It was nice talking to you guys again." With that, he left the room, leaving the three girls sat at the dining table.
"What are we going to do now?" Quinn asked.
"Well, we did say that we weren't going to give up," Santana recalled. "So I guess we can look upstairs now for some fireworks?"
"Well, we don't have to look specifically for fireworks," Brittany added. "We could also look for hidden keys as well, or potential weapons. We could always take the sickle," Brittany suggested.
"I don't really want to touch something that had been drenched in blood for hours," Quinn shuddered. "Let's go upstairs. If we don't find anything and I get depressed again, let's go back to the studio and we can have some fun and forget."
"Good plan, Quinn."
"I give up," Quinn huffed despondently, throwing a stress ball that they found under a bed across the room. "What is the point?"
"Yeah, I'm also pretty tired," Santana said, getting up on her feet. "Maybe we should take a break."
"Come on guys," Brittany pouted. "We haven't looked in our room yet, or Sam's."
"I don't really want to go over Sam's stuff," Santana said with a slight shiver. "And I seriously don't think there's anything in our room."
"Why not Sam's stuff?" Brittany asked. "You keep on saying how it's him and you don't scour his room? That literally goes against logic."
"Because he'll kill us when he finds us going through his stuff!" Quinn cried hysterically. "Besides, if Sam was the killer, he wouldn't have keys just lying around for us to find. And he will definitely not have fireworks!"
Brittany sighed. "I just want you guys to not give up hope," she said, bowing her head. "Hope is what keeps us going."
"Yeah Britt, but I really don't feel comfortable going through Sam's stuff. We can search in our room or something, but I'm a bit hungry. Why don't we take a break now and have some lunch?" Santana suggested.
"Food sounds really good right now," Quinn muttered. "But what is there to eat? I swear we're pretty much all out."
"Out of ready-to-eat food, maybe, but doesn't mean that we can't cook," Brittany said. "I think there's still some meat and raw veg in the fridge."
"The meat has probably gone bad by now," Santana replied. "Let's just eat a vegetarian meal," she looked over to Quinn for confirmation.
"Wait," Quinn said. "You want me to cook our next meal?"
"Uh… yeah?" Brittany drawled, somewhat timid. Quinn thought for a moment.
"Fine," she frowned. "But you two are my personal bodyguards. As in you hold your sticks in your hands, surrounding me while I cook."
"That can be arranged," Santana chuckled. "Although if someone comes at us with a knife we will run and you can fling hot food onto their face."
"That's a waste of food!" Quinn exclaimed.
"Better than your death," Santana replied quickly. "We don't have the sticks though. It's still in the studio."
"Then we'll go to the studio, get the sticks, get Quinn to cook, then we can eat," Brittany suggested.
"Why don't we just eat in the studio?" Santana said. "We could just stay there for the rest of the day."
"Nah, let's look through our room first," Brittany said. "Then we can go to the studio and this time you can challenge Quinn's dancing," she continued with a smirk.
"Okay," Santana huffed. "Should we go now?"
"Chef Quinn, duty calls," Brittany addressed Quinn. Quinn rolled her eyes and gestured for Brittany to leave the room first. Then Quinn left, followed by Santana.
"How do you cook so well, Q?" Santana asked, patting her now bloated stomach. The girls were now sat in their room, about to search it. Brittany was sat on the bed, while Santana was too full to sit and Quinn was sat on a chair next to the bedside table. They decided that if they found nothing here they would just go to the studio and give up searching for the day, and they can rethink their strategies.
"My mum hates cooking," Quinn replied. "So she taught me as soon as she could so that she wouldn't have to cook much more."
"I guess that makes sense," Brittany said. "My mum would never let me in the kitchen," she continued sadly. "She's afraid that I would burn down the house."
"I could teach you, Britt," Quinn said. "With proper, uh, supervision, you won't burn down the house."
"That's really nice, Quinn, but I fear that you'd never get the chance to teach me," Brittany replied, slightly sadly. This was quite interesting to Santana. Normally Brittany was the optimist, able to hold on to hope and stay happy even in the most difficult situations. But it seemed like even Brittany couldn't stay hopeful in this dire predicament. Maybe the harsh reality is starting to catch up to her.
"Don't say that Britt," Santana scolded. "You will become an amazing cook, I can see it right now. Maybe even better than Quinn."
"Impossible," Quinn chuckled. "I would never let you get better than me."
"Who knows?" Brittany shrugged with a half-smile. "Maybe I have talent. I never really tried to cook, I guess. I'll probably never get the chance again." A lone tear escaped Brittany's eyelashes.
"Hey, I thought you were the one to tell me to stop crying?" Quinn rushed over to sit next over Brittany on the bed. "Come on, no more tears."
"Yeah, I'm being silly," Brittany wiped her eyes with her sleeve. "I'm just wondering, what did you guys want to do after we graduated?"
"Well, I'd probably go to college," Santana said. "We probably all are."
"No, I mean as a career, what did you guys want to do?" Brittany elaborated.
"Well, my family has high expectations of me, I think they wanted me to follow my dad's footsteps, and that's being a doctor. But honestly, I don't think I want to become a doctor. I don't want to be the type of person who looks at ill people, because that just doesn't seem very fun. I guess I don't want to be some kind of surgeon either, as I don't want to have to cut people open. You can probably tell that bloody bodies and I don't mix together very well," Santana chuckled, then continued. "I guess I've always wanted to be a lawyer. It comes with great prestige, it's a job that my family would be proud of, and it seems quite interesting, I guess. I mean, I can fight for justice, and condemn people to what they deserve if I prepare my case well enough. It gives you a great sense of accomplishment."
"That's admirable," Brittany said, slightly in awe. "My dream isn't really that impressive," Brittany started to blush but didn't say anything more.
"What is your dream?" Quinn prompted.
"I want to be a teacher," Brittany mumbled.
Santana chuckled. "Really?"
Brittany nodded bashfully. "I think that being a teacher would make me feel super smart. But I guess I don't want to be a high school teacher or anything, I don't think I will be able to deal with those kids. Also, I probably will forget the things I'm meant to teach, I probably won't be a very good high school teacher." Brittany gave a small wistful laugh. "If I could choose, I'd want to teach little kids. Maybe like first grade people. They're so cute! And you don't have to teach them hard stuff. I think I'll definitely be able to manage."
"Aww," Quinn cooed. "That's adorable! I bet you will be an amazing teacher."
"Yeah," Santana agreed. "You're so good with kids, I bet they will love you."
Brittany smiled weakly. "So, what about you Quinn? What would you like to do in the future?"
"I haven't really thought about it," Quinn started. "But I guess I've always wanted to become an architect."
Brittany raised her eyebrows. "Woah, that sounds really cool!" Santana nodded in agreement.
"It is," Quinn concurred. "I've just always been fascinated by buildings I guess."
"What kind of architect?" Santana questioned. "Like doing interior design? Or designing buildings?"
"I guess designing buildings," Quinn said thoughtfully. "Probably design some landmarks too. I don't know, The Shard in London looks really cool. I don't really know if I'll be good though. I've never really tried it."
"Exactly," Brittany said encouragingly. "You never tried it. Just like me cooking. How would you know you won't be good? I think you'll be amazing." Quinn blushed, but Brittany kept going. "You're a really creative and artsy person, Quinn. I can totally see you sitting at an office table, just drawing designs of buildings."
"Thanks, Brittany, but it's just a dream," Quinn said a little sadly.
"Yeah," Brittany deflated. "It's just a dream. We'll probably never live to see ourselves graduate, let alone see ourselves achieve our dreams."
"Don't say that," Santana chastised. "We never know."
"You know it's true Santana," Brittany gave a sad smile. "Hey, who knows, maybe we'll achieve them in another life."
"Yeah, maybe, in another life," Quinn echoed absently.
This talk's mood had shifted for the worse a little too quickly for Santana's liking, so she quickly spoke up. "Come on guys, let's search this room and if nothing comes up we can party downstairs."
"Okay," Brittany breathed, getting up from her bed.
"Hey, look at what I found!" Santana called from the corner of the room.
"What is that?" Quinn asked as she made her way towards where Santana was. She was holding a glass bottle in her hand triumphantly.
"Hold up," Brittany said, coming over as well and seeing what was in Santana's hand. "Is that… booze?"
"I think so," Santana grinned. "It was in that cabinet," she said pointing to the open cabinet in the corner of their bedroom. "You think that this is good to drink?"
"It should be," Brittany said. "I thought Puck said that there was no booze in this house?"
"That's what he said," Santana replied. "But didn't mean that it was true."
"Wait, so that has been in our room the whole entire time, and none of us knew?" Quinn asked incredulously.
"It definitely seems like it," Santana nodded. "I mean, we never used this cabinet before so I don't see why we would open it. Turned out that Britt's idea of looking in our room was a great idea."
Brittany beamed. "Well, I didn't find anything useful in my area of the room, but Santana did. Should we drink it?"
"Wait a second," Quinn put a hand in front of her. "How is finding alcohol in any way 'useful'? That's not going to help us escape."
"Yes, it is," Brittany said in a just-so manner. Quinn looked at her quizzically. Brittany's lips broke out into a huge grin and she concluded, "It helps us escape from reality!"
"Poof!" Santana mimicked an explosion with her hands spreading apart before she gave Brittany a high five and both of the girls started to giggle hysterically.
"You sure you guys aren't drunk already?" Quinn scowled. "Get yourselves together! Or am I the only one who wants to survive?"
"Don't be a killjoy Quinn," Brittany pouted. "Just let yourself go again. Have some fun with us! This time we can get high!"
"They're not drugs Britt," Quinn said pointedly. Brittany continued to pout. "Fine. I give up. There's no point in looking anyway. What were we even looking for?"
"Fireworks," Santana chuckled.
"Yeah, we're not going to have any of that here. It was a stupid idea to look for fireworks in this house anyway. Whatever. Screw it. Let's go to the studio," Quinn said.
"To the studio we go!" Brittany cheered, starting to make her way to the door. "Take with the booze with you Sanny!"
"Will do!" Santana called back, grabbing some of her things and making her way towards the door as well.
"Let's get drunk!" Brittany whooped, unlocking the door and striding outside. Santana followed her, leaving Quinn no choice but to trail behind as well.
"Ugh, Britt, why are you so… sexy?" Santana slurred as she placed sloppy kisses on Brittany's lips while the music played in the background.
"Get off me San," Brittany giggled, a little tipsy but nowhere near as drunk as Santana. "Your lips feel like a fish right now."
"No!" Santana whined. "I want my sweet lady kisses…"
Brittany gripped Santana's waist and lifted her off her body, then plopped a limp Santana onto the seat next to her. "Not now, San, we'll have some more later," she promised.
"Later," Santana mumbled incoherently before her eyes closed and she passed out.
Brittany looked over to Quinn. "I think she's drunk," she whispered.
"Yeah, no way," Quinn scoffed. "I kind of need a cigarette right now."
Brittany frowned. "A cigarette? Why? I didn't know you smoked."
Quinn's hazel eyes met cerulean blue ones. "I don't. I just want to try one before the killer gets me. There's got to be a reason why so many people smoke, right? It's got to feel really good."
"I don't think so," Brittany said. "Smoke stinks. When I'm near someone who is smoking I cough because it smells so bad," she wrinkled her nose. "Imagine inhaling that smoke straight into your lungs. That would literally be the worst feeling."
"Yeah, I guess," Quinn sighed. "I just want to try things in life. Things that I'll probably never experience. Like, I don't know, go ride on a real pony or something. Or experience an orgasm."
"Wait you've never ridden a horse before?" Brittany asked. "It's really fun. At first, I was really scared because I thought I was going to fall but after a few minutes, it was so fun! Also, I got to stroke the horse's mane the whole way, it was so soft!" The next part of what Quinn said registered into Brittany's brain. "Hold up," Brittany's dreamy smile left her lips completely. "You've never had an orgasm before?"
Quinn shook her head. "My sex life was horrible. I've had sex once and got pregnant. And it hurt more than it felt good. Honestly, it didn't feel good at all."
"That must suck," Brittany sighed, feeling sad for Quinn. "Well, since I obviously can't give you one as I don't want Santana to kill me, I'll try my best to describe it," Brittany paused a moment to think. "Well, it's amazing," her lips curled up to a small smile. "It feels like you're in the clouds. You forget everything for a short while and it's like pure bliss." Brittany closed her eyes. "You feel weightless, you know? You also see stars that aren't there. Especially when Santana does that thing when –"
"Please don't go any further, I get the point," Quinn's voice trembled. "It really sounds amazing. But really, I don't think that what you said can make me understand how it feels."
"Oh, I'm sorry Quinn," Brittany said sincerely, seeing how Quinn was visibly upset. "I didn't mean to upset you."
"No, it's okay," Quinn mumbled, wiping at her eyes. "But tell me, what does it feel like to be in love?"
"Better than anything you can imagine," Brittany said. "You get all these butterflies in your belly whenever you think of them. You just want to spend every passing moment in their presence, be with them all the time. It feels like with them, anything is possible." Brittany looked over at Quinn again. "I'm sorry, did I upset you again?"
"No," Quinn sighed. After a few seconds, a choked sob finally escaped her lips and tears started to fall down her face. "I don't understand. Why does no one love me for who I am? Everyone I've been with, they just liked me for my image. They just thought that I was a worthless pretty face. Some cheerleader that can help boost their reputation. Is there something wrong with me?" Quinn asked.
"There's nothing wrong with you Quinn, don't ever think that," Brittany said softly. "I think that you should just be yourself. Not the stuck-up, manipulating head Cheerio you were before. Not someone who would throw someone else under the bus for your own gain. I think that Santana had the same problem. She lived under this mask, this shell, but when she finally came out, it was like the best thing that happened. Maybe you should just come out of your own shell and be yourself."
"It's a bit too late for that, don't you think?" Quinn wept. "There are so many things I've done that I would like to change."
"What would that be?" Brittany asked.
"For one thing, I would've never tried for head Cheerio. At the end of the day, it means nothing. I worked too hard for it and for what? I got so lost in it that for a while I forgot who I was for a while. I guess the pregnancy was a wake-up call. It got me to regather myself and just, you know, take a step back from everything and look at it as a whole, you know? I became a better person. So, um, I guess I have Noah to thank for that."
"There you go," Brittany smiled. "Looking at things positively. Look, Quinn, I really don't think this is the end. Even if we don't make it out here alive. You can find love in another life, okay? You believe in reincarnation?"
"I don't even know," Quinn sighed.
"Well, I do. You will be given another chance at life, we probably will all be, and you will get the chance to make everything right, okay? Just be yourself. No more HBIC crap. No more being at the top of the social ladder. You are an awesome person, people will be falling at your feet just for you, okay?" Brittany said.
"But I won't remember you guys," Quinn said.
"That doesn't matter. You will make new friends. Lots of them, in fact. You will get married to a handsome man, or a beautiful woman," Brittany added with a chuckle, "And become the world's best architect. Just believe."
"I really wish what you're saying is true, Britt," Quinn said. "Although my family believes in an afterlife."
"Even then, an afterlife wouldn't be that bad. You get to see everyone again. We'll have an eternity together."
"Yeah, that actually doesn't sound that bad," Quinn sighed. "But I'm still so scared of dying."
"Don't be," Brittany replied. "It will probably be like falling asleep. I don't think it will hurt or anything."
"You don't believe we'll get out of here either, do you Britt?" Quinn asked, somewhat fearfully.
"To be honest, no," Brittany sighed. "But I've come to accept that. I don't mind spending my last days with you guys. I love you, Quinn."
"As a friend of course," Quinn added.
"As a friend of course," Brittany confirmed, smiling.
Quinn sighed again, leaning back so that her head hit the wall behind her. "Say we did make it out alive. Where do you see yourself in ten years?"
"In ten years?" Brittany said. "Hmm, I'll be happily married to Santana and have many lady babies with her, I guess."
"Yeah, I thought you'd say that," Quinn said wistfully.
The sound of Santana groaning made its way into their ears.
"Well, I guess we should head upstairs now," Brittany suggested. "We've been down here for hours now, I can only imagine how tired you are."
"Yeah, I am pretty tired," Quinn replied. "Should we get some food? I'm a bit hungry."
"Yeah, me too," Brittany said. She shook Santana's shoulders. "Wakey wakey! You want to get some food?"
Confused brown eyes opened. "Ugh, my head hurts," Santana groaned, clutching her head.
"Yeah, you were really drunk. Come on, let's go upstairs. We'll grab some food on the way," Brittany said.
"Okay," Santana mumbled, blinking a few times to wake herself up.
"I'm not cooking this time," Quinn warned.
"I know, Q. We'll just get some bread."
"Who wants to do the first shift today?" Santana asked. "I don't really want to go first, I'm really tired and I need to sleep."
"I'll go," Quinn volunteered. "I think that the killer strikes in the early morning. Plus, I just want to get my shift done with so that I can sleep."
"Okay," Santana said. "Well Britt, do you mind taking the second shift?"
"I think that we should change up the way we do shifts," Brittany suggested. "Since I think that the killer strikes closer to midnight rather than early morning, we should probably have two people awake in the first shift. Well, Santana, since you're tired and a bit hungover you can sleep for the first shift, and I'll take it along with Quinn. She might need company, anyway, doing shifts is kind of boring. Right now it's ten, so at two o'clock, I'll send Quinn off to sleep and then I'll take the shift for two more hours. At four in the morning, I'll go to bed and I'll wake you up, Santana, and you can take watch until we wake."
"Yeah, that's actually a very good idea," Quinn said. "I don't really feel comfortable doing my shift alone anyway."
"But, Britt, that would mean that you only get like three or four hours of sleep," Santana argued.
"Who said that?" Brittany replied. "I'll sleep in the morning. Just don't wake me up when you get up and I'll be fine."
Santana thought for a bit. "Okay," she said. "You sure you will be fine like this?"
"Positive," Brittany nodded. "Maybe tomorrow I'll sleep longer and you and Quinn can take the first shift, and I'll take the last shift. We can do some kind of a rotation system."
"Aren't you smart Brittany," Quinn smiled, ruffling Brittany's hair.
Brittany smiled bashfully. "I try," she mumbled.
"Well, it's settled. I'm going to go to sleep now, I'm pretty tired, and you two wake me if anything happens, alright?" Santana said.
"Copy that," Brittany replied.
"Okay, well, good night. I sleep better with the lights off, so if you don't mind, please switch it off and when I'm asleep you can switch it back on if you want."
"Okay," Quinn said. Santana walked over to the bed and climbed in. Her eyes closed and her breathing slowed before they even had a chance to switch off the light.
"Is she already asleep?" Brittany asked, amused.
"No, not yet, I'm trying to though. Lights off please," Santana called, flipping so that her back was facing the two girls now.
Brittany turned to Quinn after the light is turned off. "Hi."
"Hi?" Quinn's voice echoed in the room.
"What should we do now?"
I don't really know why, but I'm feeling really nervous right now.
I'm scared.
Pfft. What do I have to be scared of? It's just another day, another night, another kill.
Anyway, you may be wondering who I am going to target right now.
Maybe I should do a little less targeting. After all, all of this is getting quite difficult. Everyone knows what is coming, and they either prepare really well to prevent me from getting to them, or they catch me off guard and attack me. Tina and Mercedes nearly succeeded, so I need to prepare for all kinds of things to happen.
This next kill will break my heart. Not really. I don't know. Depends on how it goes.
Brittany, I'm coming for you.
Ha, I wish. No, really now. I'm coming for you.
Ugh, that sounds so wrong on so many different levels.
Brittany takes the second shift tonight. Well, actually she took the first shift as well, but she is taking the second shift alone so that is the perfect time to strike.
Gives me a bit of déjà vu, actually. A bit like Tina? I attacked her during her shift as well.
I had been scouring in the kitchen a bit, and I managed to find some anaesthetics. I don't want to inflict any kind of pain on her. It will all be painless.
It's a little risky.
I'm really sorry, Brittany. You had a good run. I really liked you. You don't like me back.
Enough with the sentiments. Let's get to work.
Hopefully, she won't know what's coming to her.
I take out the key to their room and unlock the door. I rush forward and jab the needle into her arm. I don't actually think that she has the energy to protest, because it is too late.
I had expected more resistance. It really wasn't that hard.
After all, Puck had done a number on her. She is physically weak right now. Maybe emotionally weak as well. I know that Mercedes kept on saying that she's a psychopath. I didn't want to believe it at first, but I have come to accept that, yes, she is a psychopath.
She is not just bipolar. Her brain is wrong in so many different ways. Oh, how I wish she wasn't like this! Maybe things would be different.
You may wonder how I know. Everything you need to know can be found in her room. She is schizophrenic. She may have cases of DID, or dissociative identity disorder, I'm not sure. I don't think that DID is a recognised mental illness. As far as I know, it's not. There probably isn't even a diagnosis for it.
Anyway.
I don't bother closing the door behind me as she is dragged into the bathroom. There isn't really a point, I don't think.
Oh shit.
I haven't set up the bath!
I don't bother making it warm. It takes a few minutes. When it is all done, I dip a tentative hand inside and hiss.
It is cold!
Should I do it?
Yes, I have to do it.
I lift her and the cold water envelopes her body. Yes, I know that she still has her clothes on, but there isn't really a point in taking her clothes off for this.
She floats a little on the water.
It's time now.
I push her head underneath the surface of the water. A few bubbles rise to the surface, but I persist.
I'm having second thoughts. I don't think I want to do this anymore.
It's risky.
No, I have to.
Her head bobs up and down, occasionally popping to the surface. I just push it back down.
I need to stop having this internal argument with myself.
Damn, the water is really cold!
Her head doesn't come back up.
I slowly let go, and her head stays down.
I wait.
It's been minutes. Maybe a bit longer. Could've been half an hour. I don't know, time passes weirdly during these times.
Yes, I know that this death is really slow, but she deserves a merciful one.
She can't feel anything. Actually, neither can I.
Not anymore.
I clench my eyes shut. I don't know why, but I want to cry.
It's risky.
I chance a glance again. Her head stays in the water. No more bubbles are rising to the surface. I don't think any had been for a while now.
I hear some shuffling nearby. Is someone awake?
Shit.