AN:

So, I just want to say a huge thank you to those people who subscribed to this story on story alert. And here are just a few shout outs to my reviewers.

serangel26: I'm glad you enjoyed it! As the first reviewer you made my heart so happy!

Chelsie1991: There is absolutely no way that I can leave the story without them being happy!

dancelikeheya: I'm happy that you liked it so much that you wanted to read more. I couldn't not continue!

This chapter is just coming very quickly because I finally gave up on finishing my NaNoWriMo story in November.

Thank you all who told me to keep going! There was no way I could leave Brittana like that! The plot of this story almost completely changed from what I imagined it to be originally. I hope you like it as much as the first chapter.

Thrashing in her sheets, Santana gasped for air. Even though her eyes were clenched tightly closed, she could still see the pain in those blue eyes staring back at her. Her cheeks were slick with the tears that were still rolling soundlessly down them. Feeling as if her heart was about to beat right out of her chest, Santana sucked in another breath of air, the sound of it catching in her throat and giving off a small whimper.

Then, the sound of a car alarm going off broke her thoughts. Snapping her eyes open instantly, Santana realized that she was not running through a crowded street. She was staring back at a gray crack running the length of her off-white ceiling. Her lungs emptied with a puff as the air escaped her.

It's been a year, Santana reminded herself as she wiped angrily at her cheeks. I told myself I would be over this by now, yet these damn nightmares are still keeping me awake almost every night! She rubbed her eyes violently, yet Brittany's image continued to haunt her mind.

Quietly but distinctly, her alarm clock gave a faint clicking noise as it turned itself on and began to play a song from the radio. Pausing to listen, Santana froze mid-thought as the music began playing.

When you try your best but you don't succeed

When you get what you want but not what you need

When you feel so tired but you can't sleep

Stuck in reverse

And the tears come streaming down your face

When you lose something you can't replace

When you love someone but it goes to waste

Could it be worse?

Her heart slammed into her ribs as she flailed her arm in the direction of her nightstand. As her hand made jarring contact with the alarm clock, the music was finally silenced. But that only left Santana sitting up rigidly in her lonely single bed, hand stinging and body shaking. No matter how hard she tried to think of something, anything else, she just couldn't.

Damn radio station! Why did they have to be playing that song this morning! Today was already shity enough! But even deeper than her anger, where Santana was hiding it from even herself, was her fear. What was the most terrifying, though, was that the lyrics expressed the feelings that Santana tried her hardest to deny.

Smashing her already throbbing hand against her leg, Santana let out a cry of exasperation. Why can't I just live one week of a normal life? Is it really that much to ask? Just to feel all right for a couple of days?

For the past year, this nightmare hadn't given her a break. The first week she was gone the dreams hadn't yet appeared, but she didn't need dreams to make her remember. Her brain had been doing enough of that all by itself. To be fair, though, she had hardly gotten any sleep in which to dream in. From the minute she had left Brittany standing on that street corner, Santana knew that she couldn't stay in Ohio. There was nothing left for her to stay for anyways.

So she left. Taking her car straight from work, she left. At first, she didn't even know where she was going, but after the first day on the road, she had made her decision. Santana was going to New York. At night, she slept in her car in empty parking lots. During the day, she drove for hour after hour, determined to get as far away from that wretched town as she could. Days later, she finally made it to New York City, but by then she was practically out of money. It wasn't like she would be able to pay for a place to live on the money she had left, but what she could do was get a job. The only problem was that in this economy, it was next to impossible to get a job, especially if she didn't even have a high school diploma. But she had to try.

There were only two options; they were the only two options that she felt like she ever had. But it didn't take long for her to make a decision, and that decision was singing. Even though it was painful to try to keep singing without those inspirations that fueled her before, Santana didn't even want to imagine the other option.

She tried to get gigs singing anywhere she could, whether it was a coffee house, a diner, or when she was exceptionally lucky, an actual restaurant. After a month or two, she finally made enough money to rent an apartment. Cars zoomed by the street outside all night, and drunks could be heard yelling in the alleyways. It was a small little place made up of a small bedroom with an adjoining bathroom, and a general area that included a so-called "kitchen". In actuality, it was just an oven and refrigerator stuck in the middle of a block of linoleum set into the floor, and Santana barely used it for fear that something would catch on fire. The bedroom wasn't necessarily idea with walls a bland cream color and the matted grey mess of carpet. All of the rooms put together probably took up as much space as a normal living room, but it was better than living out of a car. It wasn't much, but it was something of her own.

With another shaky sigh, Santana forced herself up out of her bed, peeling the warmth of her blankets away and exposing herself to the cold air. Trudging across the carpet, Santana dragged her feet towards the bathroom to get ready. The cold tile floor in the bathroom made goose bumps rise up her legs and caused Santana gave a small shiver.

Twisting the teardrop shaped knob most of the way towards the red H, Santana stripped her clothes off. As she stepped past the flimsy shower curtain, Santana let the steam engulf her and the hot water sting her skin. With the torrents of water rushing down her face, it was impossible to tell if she was still crying. Fat drops massaged the knots out of Santana's muscles, the thrumming on her skull fading out her own thoughts so that it was only her and the water. If I could just stay in here forever and hide from the world, maybe everything would turn out all right.

After who knows how long, Santana finally turned the water off and decided that it was time to get out of the shower. Wiping a circle in the fogged up mirror, she gauged how bad she looked. In her reflection, her eyes were hollow and lifeless, black holes staring straight back at her. The puffiness of tears was still evident, but a layer of foundation would easily conceal the redness. With a heavy hand, Santana rubbed and powdered on her usual mask of makeup, covering not only what she thought were flaws, but also pasting on the fake face of happiness that she tried to wear nowadays.

Making her way back into the bedroom, Santana glanced at the clock and jumped a few inches in the air when she realized that the green LCD numbers read 4:28 pm. Okay, she reminded herself, it's not that bad. I don't need to have a mini heart attack, she added as she tried to still the rapid racing in her chest. I was out performing until three o'clock in the morning and my alarm was only set for 2:30 pm so that I would be awake for my gig tonight.

The restaurant that she was performing at tonight was a respectable one, and she was expected to dress up nicely. But that was a slight issue. Though Santana had bought a few articles of clothing especially for when she sang in restaurants, none of them were particularly fancy.

Digging through her dresser, Santana searched for something that would at least be suitable. Finally resurfacing, she had a sleek black skirt clutched in her hand and an idea in her head. Again searching through her drawers, Santana picked out a long sleeved silver lace shirt, solid black tights, and a black undershirt. On her face, a sideways smile began to spread. Swiftly, Santana pulled on the clothes and stood back to inspect the outcome in her full-length mirror. If I maybe just add a necklace… and a pair of heels... Yes! It would be perfect, Santana mused.

As the last notes of the song faded away, Santana backed away from the microphone. To tell the truth, she thought that she had done a pretty damn good job for the first half of the night. It was only break time, so she still had a number of songs still to tackle, but for the songs that she had done so far she was pleasantly pleased.

Making her way precariously down the stairs of the platform, Santana prayed that she wouldn't fall flat on her face. Luckily, she reached the flat ground without any difficulties and soon relaxed her sore feet as she took a seat. Santana had just taken a few sips of her water when she noticed a petite woman with chocolate brown hair approaching her. The woman appeared to be in her mid-twenties and was wearing a black cardigan with a plum colored dress that fell just below her knees. With a quick glance around, Santana made sure that the woman was approaching her. Could she tell that I am… Santana's wondering thoughts cut off as the woman reached her.

"Hi, my name is Rebecca," the woman introduced herself, extending her hand to shake Santana's. Mumbling a greeting, Santana was a little bit apprehensive. Continuing, Rebecca explained, "I work for a company that discovers new singers and musicians, and I found your voice to be absolutely captivating." Pausing for a moment, it seemed as if Rebecca was waiting for a response, but Santana was a bit too stunned for words at the moment. "So," Rebecca said, "I just wanted to let you know that our company is holding auditions of sorts for prospective artists this Friday and Saturday. If you're interested, I have a card here that has all of the information you'll need. Personally, I think that you would have a good chance of getting noticed if you came."

As Santana took the three by five piece of parchment being offered to her, the words "Warner Music Group" leapt up at her. You have got to be kidding me, Santana thought incredulously. Still in shock, Santana uttered an unintelligible "Thank you." With a nod, the woman walked away to continue on with her meal as if nothing had changed, but for Santana, everything had changed. This is the hope that I have been waiting for all of these months. For years this has been by dream, but recently I had almost given up on it. Living in the city of talent, I never expected to become anyone just singing in coffee shops and restaurants.

The bronze plate outside the door read 75 Rockefeller Plaza, and Santana looked down at the card just to make sure. It was Friday afternoon at quarter to five and the auditions at Warner Music Group were supposed to start in fifteen minutes. Pushing open the glass door, Santana made her way to the reception desk. With an uncharacteristic feeling of anxiety, she floundered for words.

"Um…" she spoke to the receptionist, "I'm here for the auditions?" Why am I so nervous? It's not like I'm going to lose anything for trying; the only outcome that will make a difference is if I actually get noticed in a good way.

Still talking on the phone, the girl behind the desk waved her hand in the direction of a hallway. A couple of teenage boys were hanging around outside another set of double doors, strumming on their guitars. I guess that's where the auditions are taking place, because that receptionist was really helpful, Santana's thoughts dripped heavily with sarcasm.

With pointed footsteps, Santana's boots clicked against the marble floor. As she reached the doors, one of the guitarists leaning against the wall smiled at her through his dark bangs. A pang of sadness hit her as she thought of the last date she had been on. No, I am not going to think about this anymore today. For now, I am going to focus on my music. This is my shot to get noticed, and I am not going to blow it!

The doors in front of Santana opened and a crying redhead shoved her way past. Now that Santana had a clear view into the room inside, she realized two things; firstly, it wasn't just a room, it was a full-blown auditorium, and secondly, over half of the seats were filled with people waiting to perform. Suddenly, Santana felt the pressure as she walked through the doorway. The energy inside the room had a tension about that threatened to penetrate through Santana's weak composure.

Music from the piano in the front slowly flooded the auditorium and the crowd went silent. As the song gradually began, the breath caught in Santana's throat, and she turned to watch in disbelief. Standing on the stage was a tall, lean young woman, her golden hair falling in waves as her hands steadily danced across the piano. No, God damn it! Santana felt like she was about to pass out as the girl began to sing the lyrics that Santana ran through her mind, day after day.

For you, there'll be no more crying

For you, the sun will be shining

And I feel that when I'm with you

It's alright, I know it's right

Brittany's voice was even gentler than Santana remembered it, making the lyrics sound as sweet as first love and as sad as first loss. And Santana knew exactly why that was. Tears jerked at the corners of her eyes as her thoughts raced a mile a minute. What is the fucking chance? How am I supposed to sing after that? Then her brain really started working. Holy shit, what if she sees me? I can't stay here any longer! I have to get out of this room right now!

Santana couldn't get her lungs to work as her heart hammered in her chest. I have to get out of here! Turning sharply on her heel, Santana practically sprinted back the way she had entered, slamming the door open in front of her. Blinking the tears out of her eyes, Santana tried to clear her vision, yet the image from last year just wouldn't disappear. Depths of blue stared back at her, begging her not to forget. Begging her not to leave. Running her hands raggedly down her face, she came away with smearing mascara and a ruined façade. But then, bringing her feet to a skidding stop, Santana realized something. They weren't in Ohio anymore. They were in New York City, where no one knew Santana's story, and no one would even care.

So, why am I running away yet again?

So, what did you think? I hope you didn't hate the way I took it.

Please review! Reviews literally make me bounce off the wall with happiness.