Thank you so much for the reviews! I really like this chapter, and I hope you will too. Some of Santana's past is starting to be revealed. Please continue with your support and comments!

Chapter Four – Bittersweet Symphony

I immediately hunted Puck down and pulled him toward the girl's locker room. I pushed my lips against his so forcefully that I managed to draw blood. Getting the hint that I wanted, no needed sex now, in one swift motion he had me pinned against the row of red lockers. His tongue probed my mouth, and although I was thoroughly disgusted, I welcomed it.

"Do you have…" I breathed.

"Yeah," he panted, pushing my skin-tight dress up in one fluid motion. With him everything was rushed, movements full of force, rough even. With her, time seemed to stand still, we savored each moment, everything was soft and gentle. But I needed the roughness, the dirtiness of it all to rid me of everything I had just said to her.

Lifting me up against the lockers and forcing my legs around his waist, he thrust inside me within seconds. I felt dirty and used, but I liked the hollow feeling it gave me. His hand roughly grabs my arm and I wince in pain. He assumes it was a distaste in pace, and he quickly begins pumping in and out more fiercely. It was over soon, and as he walked away, I noticed the blood stain through my jacket; his rough hands reopening the fresh cuts.

I walked into the choir room late, having to take care of the blood on my sleeve, and I immediately noticed her eyes on me. I avoided them at all cost and sat down next to Puck.

"This week's assignment is movie soundtracks," Mr. Schue began, Rachel beamed in excitement. "But it can't be a musical," and her expression quickly plummeted. "I don't care what the movie is, nor the genre, but it is important to pick a song that reflects the overall movie, to show how great of an impact music has in cinema."

"Can I have my best friend back?" I turn to see her propped against the locker next to me.

"What are you talking about?" I seethe.

"I miss you."

"I'm right here."

"You know what I mean."

"As far as I'm concerned, you chose Artie, and therefore you have a new best friend. So why don't you go see where cripple's at and leave me alone." I absolutely hate being mean to her, but it hurts too much to be around her now.

"That isn't fair." She sounded broke, fragile, helpless.

"Well, life's not fair.

"You're right, it isn't." She was now shouting, and I glance around us in panic, hoping no one was paying attention. "You're so pissed at me because I apparently chose Artie over you, but in reality I chose you first. And it was you who shut me down. Just because now you're ready to stop being a coward does not make it right for me to end things with him." She paused, obviously trying to stop herself from crying. "Everything was complicated with us, there were too many rules and limitations. With him, it's simple and easy. I can kiss him in public. I don't have to limit our conversations in school. I'm so happy and proud of you for what you said, I just…I just wish you would have said it sooner." With that she was on her heels and walking away. I couldn't be mad, I couldn't blame her, however hard I tried, because she was entirely right. I now knew exactly what song I would sing for this week's assignment.

"What's up with you two?" Quinn asks as we walk towards Coach's office. I give her a look of confusion. "You and Brittany." I still don't answer. "Santana don't make me spell it out. You know what I'm talking about, you're acting different towards one another."

I stop, and force her to do the same. "Listen, I'm really tired of fighting with you, but you need to stop giving me reasons to kick your ass. This is none of your business." I seethe, and start to walk away, but her hand wraps around my upper arm.

"S, I care. I really do." These few and simple words are enough, and I realize a friendship could reform. Relaying this to her, I give a shy smile of understanding.

"Why are we going to her office in the first place?"

"No clue, Becky told me she wanted to see us." With that, we are soon seated in front of her desk, her piercing eyes upon us, her hands clasped in front of her face.

"Q. Grapefruit." I hate her already. She has no right to tease me about my implants when she doesn't even know why I got them. No one does. "I have a proposition for you." Her evil smile plays upon her lips, and I know it's another scheme. "Ill let you both back on the squad…" Quinn leans forward at the thought. "If you can help me get rid of one Will Schuester." What else was new.

"How?" Quinn asks hesitantly.

"Although my plan with Brittany and Bieste didn't go over very well. I'm fairly certain it will work with one human brillo pad." It took a minute for her words to sink in, and as they did, Quinn looked at me stunned.

"You mean you want…" she stammered.

"Yes." She nodded her head in approval. "You guys get to decide which on of you will be the victor, but understand one thing. If you mess this up, neither of you will see my Cheerio uniform again unless you're sitting in the stands watching what winners look like."

It was obvious by Quinn's silence that she wouldn't dare do this, but I also knew how badly she wanted to be back on the squad. So it was evident that the deed would be mine

"Although the assignment was intended to be individual, Artie, Mike, and Sam have prepared a group number." Mr. Schue announced as he took a seat. They sang some song from Top Gun, each of their girlfriends eating it up, although I thought it sounded pretty gay. Mr. Schue congratulated their choice and soon we were dismissed. I however lingered behind.

"Mr. Schue, I'd really like it if you sang a song from one of your favorite movies because I'm having a little trouble with this assignment." He gulped and looked a little uneasy. I moved closer to him, eliminating most of the space between us.

"Um, I think the boys demonstrated quite well." He shifted to the other side of the piano.

"But I'd much rather hear you sing." I lowered an octave, using my most sultry voice.

"Santana?" We both turn to see a very confused Brittany in the doorway. Mr. Schue took this as his queue to leave and quickly exited as Brittany walked in closer. "What are you doing?"

"Getting back on the Cheerios." I smiled.

"What does Mr. Schue have to do with that? I thought he was in charge of glee?"

"Coach made a deal with Quinn and I. If we can seduce Mr. Schue and then claim sexual assault, we can be back on the squad."

"That would be lying San," she says so innocently.

"Your point?"

"You're better than this San."

"Am I?" I question her, challenging her.

"Most definitely. You think you need Cheerios to define you, but you don't. If this is what you have to do to be on the squad, it's not worth it."

"I need Cheerios."

"Why?" she had moved closer, and all of a sudden I couldn't breathe.

"Because it's the only time I have you without him."

"San…" as the words left her mouth I trapped them between us with a kiss. Innocent and sweet, but expressing so many feelings. I know she can feel a hot tear graze her cheek as it slides down my face.

"I got to go," I breathe as we part, leaving before she could respond.

"I told Quinn that if she went through with this plan, that I'd tell it was all a lie, planned by you." I sat straighter, appearing as tall as I could in front of her.

"I obviously thought too highly of you Pamela," she began. "I should have known you'd disappoint me again."

Anger swirled within, and I couldn't keep it from regurgitating as I spoke. "Listen troll in need of a clue. I'm sick of the boob remarks."

"You should have thought about that before you plastered watermelons to your chest." She knew I wasn't here to make nice.

"Maybe I don't want to go through life looking like a twelve-year old girl. Maybe I want people to notice me more. Maybe I want something better for my life than to be a cheerleading coach stuck in a small town." Her eyes widened at the insult.

"You're walking a fine line…" before she could come up with another hateful term, I interrupted her with the reason I had started this meeting.

"I don't want back on the squad. But more importantly, I want you to know that Quinn had no choice in the matter, so therefore she better not be punished. If you don't let her back on the Cheerios, Figgins might just get an anonymous letter about this ridiculous scheme."

I held my ground, afraid that if I swayed or faltered in any way, she would feed my remains to her tank full of sharks that we all know she keeps in a warehouse downtown.

"Without Cheerios, you're sure to become just another Lima loser. Now get your juicy, vine-ripened chest fruit, and get the hell out of my office."

"Hey," I say softly in the doorway of her bedroom. "Your mom let me in," I smile shyly as she looks at me from her bed. Even though she's wearing her grass stained shorts that she normally wears when mowing the lawn, a raggedy old t-shirt, no make-up, and her hair pulled back in a messy bun, she looks absolutely stunning. She fixes her reading glasses to the top of her head and sets the book she's been reading down next to her. Everyone thinks Brittany is stupid, but I know her, and this site doesn't surprise me. In fact, it makes me adore her more.

"Hey," she responds, crossing her never ending legs beneath her.

I hesitantly make my way into her bright blue room and sit in the chair across from her. "Can we talk?" I avoid eye contact, staring instead at the picture of her and I on her desk. It's from the 80's dance freshman year, and our neon leotards and tights look ridiculous.

"Yeah, of course." Her voice paints a picture of concern.

"I didn't go through with it. I'm off the squad."

"But I saw Quinn in her uniform at the end of school."

"Coach let her back on." She gave me a very confused facial expression, and I couldn't help but smile at how cute she was. "It's a long story," I sigh, not really wanting to explain it right now. We let silence linger for a moment as I pull my legs under me in the chair. "Brit, can we just go back to the way things were with us." My eyes make brief contact with hers, and I can see her hanging on every word I say.

"I won't forget San or pretend it never happened, but if that's what it takes to have you back, I can be a very convincing actress." She gives me a wink and a sincere smile spreads across my face.

"That's good enough," even though we both know it's not. She pats the space next to her, and I don't hesitate to change my position. I lay down while I place my head in her lap, and she beings to stroke my hair. "I miss you," I breathe.

"I know," she whispers. We stay like this for a while; her gently playing with my hair, and I relaxing for the first time in weeks. I take her hand in mine and bring it to my lips, kissing it tenderly. It was then she noticed the small trace of blood on the sleeve of my shirt. "What happened?" her hand lightly tracing over the spot. "San, you're bleeding," her words dripping with worry.

I immediately pull away from her touch, hiding my arm against my side. "Oh nothing. Puck got a little rough earlier today," I lie. I can hear her open her mouth to speak, but no words come. Her fingers begin to lace in my hair again, and I soon forget everything as I fall asleep in her arms.

I make sure to look extra bitchy the next morning before school because I know the news of my departure from the Cheerios will have spread like wildfire by now. I have to make sure everyone knows I am still in charge at this school. However, as Brit and I make our way to Spanish, red ice collides with my face, Dave Karofsky and his posse pointing and laughing.

"Welcome to the bottom of the food chain loser," he adds before retreating down the hall.

I refuse to cry. I refuse to react. I didn't want to give anyone the satisfaction. Brittany's hand grew tight against mine, and before I know it, we're in the locker room. Even just the two of us, I refuse to break down. Noticing I wasn't moving, Brittany found a chair and pulled it close to the sink. I got the hint and sat down. She took a towel from her locker and began to dab away the slushy from my face.

"San I think you should get in the shower." I didn't respond. I knew being off the Cheerios was gonna be social suicide, but never in a million years did I think I would get a slushy facial.

Her words only registered when she began to undress me. I stopped her movements by placing my hands on hers. "What?"

"I can't get it all off." She started to take my shirt off before I stopped her again.

"Leave them on." She nodded in understanding and slowly led me to the shower stalls. She turned the water on, and gently guided me underneath, a pool of red gathering on the floor before washing down the drain.

She ran her fingers through my hair to help rinse out the sticky liquid. She continued to use the towel to softly rub at my face and neck. My clothes were drenched and stained, and I knew my white and black striped top was now completely see-through, but she didn't make me feel embarrassed.

The continuance of red at the drain began to force memories to plague my mind, and I started to scream and thrash within her grasp. "Ssh, San it's ok," her grip tightened as she flung her arms around me and pulled me into her. I was screaming, but I knew my words weren't making sense. "Everything's gonna be okay. This doesn't mean anything. He's just a bully." Her sentences were coming out as fragments, and even though they had nothing to do with why I was freaking out, they were still soothing. She pulled my head to rest against her chest as the water cascaded around us.

We walked into the choir room, both of us wearing a pair of Cheerio sweats that were in her locker. "We heard what happened," Quinn spoke as everyone's gaze fell upon us.

"Whatever, we all already knew Dave's an ass," I spit out sarcastically while rolling my eyes, trying to brush off the situation like it was no big deal, even though they all knew it was. Brittany and I were the only ones who hadn't been slushied, until now.

Mr. Schue walked in moments later and asked if anyone was ready to perform. Rachel took this as her moment to sing the Titanic theme song, beginning to cry after the second word, which didn't shock any of us.

The string instruments started to play as she finished, and the class looked confused as to who was going to sing next. "Cause it's a bittersweet symphony this life." My voice echoed through the room as I stood to maze through the rows of chairs. "I'll take you down the only road I've ever been down. You know the one that takes you to the places where all the veins meet yeah."

I approached the center of the room, a mic stand in my hand. "No change, I can't change, I can't change, I can't change. But I'm here in my mind, I am here in my mind. But I'm a million different people from one day to the next I can't change my mind. No, no, no, no, no , no."

I tilt the stand down to the side as I continue, shutting my eyes to the world as the music takes me over. "Well I never pray, but tonight I'm on my knees yeah. I need to hear some sounds that recognize the pain in me, yeah."

I take the mic off the stand and make my way back toward them, continuing to maze through their chairs and awaiting eyes. "No change, I can't change, I can't change, I can't change. But I'm here in my mind, I am here in my mind. And I'm a million different people from one day to the next, I can't change my mind, no, no, no, no, no."

I make a discreet circle around her as I belt the next line, "Cause it's a bittersweet symphony, this life. I'll take you down the only road I've ever been down." I make my way back to the center as the song finishes. "I can't change my mind, no, no, no, no, no. I can't change, can't change my body, no, no, no."

As I look at myself in my bathroom mirror, I could still see traces of red around my hair line and in my eyebrows. I opened the cabinet to get a few face wipes when I noticed the blade. It was then I remembered I hadn't used it yesterday since I spent the night at Brit's. I lift my shirt over my head and look at the cuts, some newer than others.

I knew I needed a new location. My secret had almost been publicized to her. I thought about scattering them in different areas, making it easier to explain with excuses.

I stepped in the shower to rinse out the rest of the drink, and the images from earlier flew across my pupils. I began to shake violently, but this time there was no one to hold me. My eyes darted to my stomach; it was flawless. I placed the blade against my skin, and in one swift motion, a new pool of red began to form at my feet. I slide down the wall and lay within the confines of the tub. I managed to make two more lines before the room began to spin, and then go dark.