The next day at school, Santana was mad. Very mad. Despite the anger built up inside her, she also managed to feel somewhat concupiscent throughout the day as well, but she didn't take time to reflect on that fact. Santana wasn't one for reflection. Santana automatically took her anger out on her poor classmates, and even a bit on her teachers. Most of them were too scarred of her to even think about sending her to detention.
During glee club, the ever-observant Rachel noticed Santana had specific targets that day. The entire practice, she dished insults out to six people. Rachel and Finn, Sam and Quinn, as well as Mike and Tina. "Couples." Rachel whispered to herself quietly. "Happy couples."
"What was that, Honey-bear?" Finn asked, scarred he had somehow upset his girlfriend again.
"Ya, Honey-bear," Santana mocked with an unusually high amount of sarcasm in her voice.
"God Finn, you're so damn whipped. Just Rachel's little whipping boy, that's all you are anymore. It's gross!"
Santana had risen her voice loud enough so that the entire chior room was quite aware of what she had to say to Finn. She looked quickly at Brittany, who was talking to Artie. Seeing that, seeing the girl she had slept with just the night before, the girl who she had kissed and-No. Just no. Santana couldn't find the reasons that the word 'NO' was flying through her head, but she didn't need to. She left the room. She pulled a Rachel Berry and just walked out the door like there was a stick up her butt.
As she rounded the corner of the hallway, she stopped dead in her tracks. "No fucking way" she said, as she stared at the person standing before her. "Careful Santana, don't wanna damage my innocent ears." Amy Pierce said rather smugly. It took every ounce of strength Santana had to stop herself from punching the daylights out of her.
"We really are similar Santana. And thanks to that, I can pretty much know when you're gonna do something dramatic. I also know what makes you tick, what makes you sad, and on top of that, I know the reasons why. But that's not why I'm here. I'm here because I also know what makes you scarred."
"You don't know a damn thing about me! The Latina fired off in response.
"Really? Because I'm pretty sure I know where those faint scars on your upper thighs are from." replied Amy, looking straight into the older girls eyes, effortlessly matching her level of intimidating power.
Santana froze. Her and Amy had gotten in some pretty strong, wordy fights. Both of them had a love of control and power. Amy managed to hide it behind a sweet exterior, often using her misfortune to gain sympathy, and therefore power. She could break someone down without them noticing. Santana, on the other hand, used force to get what she wanted. Both worked, in surprisingly similar ways. Despite their head-butting personalities, they shared a secret.
When Santana was 12 she went through a period of about three months in which she would make cuts on her upper thighs, out of view even in her cheerleading skirt. She never cut too deep, but there are faint marks left. Amy, also at age 12, began cutting her forearms. She stopped after Santana caught her, and that was the night each of them experienced their first, real heart-to-heart conversation. The first night their main concern wasn't control. But ever since that night, neither of them mentioned the touchy subject. Until now.
"What did you say to me?" Santana asked slowly, after a long pause. Despite her best efforts, she was shaking slightly.
"You know what I said. San, I know you, and I know you love the control you have. But some things are worth giving up a little power for."
"Oh really, like what? You ever done anything that you knew would take away some of your power?"
"I haven't found a good reason yet. But you have."
Santana didn't respond. She didn't need to. She and Amy could predict each other well enough that verbal conversation was hardly necessary. They continued to stare at each other, communicating with their eyes until Santana broke.
"I'm not fucking in love with your sister!"
"You are and you know you are. I know you are. You can tell me, because I already know."
Santana stared at her, using her slight advantage of height as a last resort, trying to defeat her opponent in what was becoming boderline psychological warfare. After what seemed like forever, Amy spoke, ever so slowly, sounding nothing like the sweet girl who was raising three children and a teenager.
"I won Santana. Now say it"
"I love Brittany. But you knew that. Me telling you doesn't change a damn thing. So, I won"
Amy smiled a big fake smile, pivoted, and walked briskly down the hallway, proud of herself. She knew that was the first time Santana had ever admitted to anyone that she loved Brittany. She had won the first battle of the war. It could only get better from here. She already knew Santana's next move, and had a plan in place. She just needed to buy some scented candles…