A/N: So many alerts and favourites for the first chapter! Thank you all so much. I'm excited to keep posting these chapters, because this fic is really fun to write :) I hope you enjoy chapter 2!

Disclaimer: I do not own Glee or it's characters

Wherever I went I could always feel Santana there, studying me and working me out. I didn't like people getting under my skin, I hadn't even analysed myself that far.

I was able to spot more faces that I remembered throughout the next day of school. I'm sure the Glee kids hadn't stopped talking about my return. I think if I tried to talk to them they'd make up an excuse and it would translate to 'Sorry I don't talk to drug addicted freaks'.

They were really amazing people though, back in freshman year. I kind of became a hassle though. During Glee club I'd zone out after a high dosage. They stopped caring after a while and kicked me out. I was happy in a way they didn't feel sorry for me. It felt better knowing they were treating me the same as everyone.

I wondered why Santana had been so ready to start a conversation with me. Nobody that knew of my history stepped a foot near me but she seemed eager too. Maybe because my sister was dating her brother and she was pressured into being nice to me. Or maybe it was just like she claimed yesterday, "I don't have friends, you don't have friends."

I'm standing at my locker, holding my books with one hand which is dangling at my side. I scan the distance to see Sam Evans, a former Glee mate of mine who I guess decided to return to football. Glee club wasn't a popular choice and I think more and more people discovered that. I gather some confidence before walking over there.

I had certainly lost my will to be 'easy' and I was just looking to make friends. Even though I had been craving some male attention since being in the clinic, I wasn't going to be what they expected; on my knees and mouth wide open.

"Hello," I say, biting the side of my lip which is curled up into a cheeky grin. Sam looks my way and smiles nervously, scratching the side of his head and squinting at me.

"Brittany Pierce," He says deeper than normal and points my way with his fingers shaped like a gun.

"Yes," I confirm, nodding my head excitedly. "Did you maybe want to catch up sometime?" I say a little desperately and watch as Sam chuckles and shakes his head. I look around me and notice a small crowd has gathered. Their eyes cut holes in me and my skin is literally burning now.

I wipe my hands subtly on my shirt and hear a small snicker to my right. Santana's standing behind a group of cheerleaders with a finger to her mouth. Her lips are curled up into a satisfied smile and her body is bopping, confirming that she's laughing along with everyone else. Although everyone else is laughing in their heads, she just doesn't care no matter who she hurts, I've learnt that much already.

"I don't think so," Sam finally says, reaching for my shoulder but I swat the hand away really fast. It causes me to hit the lockers beside me and I wince as my shoulder receives most of the pain. It's stinging and throbbing and I'm being watched by so many people it's too much too soon.

I'd been so careful with my shoulder before, never letting it receive any pain. It's still fragile. I feel like hitting myself for being so careless.

I run down the hall and out the double doors towards the football oval. I then rest my hand on a tall pole holding up the roof of the bleachers. I feel like I'm about to dry heave but I'd gotten used to stopping myself at the clinic. I learnt to gain control with every bad thing that I feared was going to happen.

"Hey he was just fucking around, that's what all the guys do to new meat." I turn around slowly and squint as the sun blocks my view of the person a few metres from me. I can recognize the raspy, thick accent of Santana, it's pretty different from everyone else's.

I don't reply. I can't reply. My breathing pattern isn't cooperating with me right now and Santana being here isn't helping. I hadn't realised how hot it was going to be today. Why the hell was I wearing tight jeans?

I'm bent over slightly, my head resting against the pole that my hand is also gripping really tightly too. I clench my teeth together, careful not rub them against each other because when I was little it made me scared that my teeth would slowly crumble.

Santana's walking around me now, sitting on one of the long flat seats. She didn't say anything until she saw that I was starting to stand up straight again.

"What's wrong with you?" She didn't even sound sincere so I glared at her and began to walk away. Of course she just followed.

"Don't walk away from me again," She sounded tired, frustrated and a little sincere now. I didn't care because she didn't mean anything to me and I wasn't going to waste my time explaining why I am the way I am to someone who doesn't deserve to hear it.

"You'll get used to it after a while," She yells, but I block her out by covering my ears and running towards the parking lot. Now I really didn't think Santana knew that I had been in rehab for most of my teenage life. I liked that she didn't know. I liked that she yelled and didn't seem to care that I was clearly upset, because it showed she treated everyone the same.

I'm sure she treats Becky Jackson the same as everyone else even with her down syndrome.

I don't know how long I've been running, but I can hear the faint sound of the lunch bell ringing and I stop to catch my breath. I've just run in a circle because I notice the bleachers a few feet away. Luckily there's no Santana, so I'm able to rest for a few moments.

"Brittany?" My head that was in my hands seconds ago is now up and staring straight at Quinn Fabray.

I can't be bothered dealing with anyone right now, especially not Quinn. When she was supposed to be my best friend, she was taking sides with the others in Glee club and agreeing when they said I was becoming a problem.

We hadn't spoken since I left school and that month I was there Quinn and me had formed a really close friendship. She had been the one to teach me how to gain popularity and how to get people talking about you for the right reasons.

That month had been the best. But she didn't even defend our friendship when people tore me down. Glee club was my safe place, it was where everyone accepted each other. When I had problems with my family I'd consider the choir room my second home and go there as much as possible for advice from Mr. Schue; the teacher or even a friend.

I wish I hadn't even gone for that month of school. Nobody would've known my past if I had.

"Why are you talking to me?" I didn't want to sound like I was being a bitch, I was just curious. Quinn hadn't given me the time of day yesterday, I don't know why she'd try now.

"I haven't seen you in three years," Quinn states, acting as if I didn't know that already.

"I know that," I spat and begin to step down the bleachers.

"Please don't be like this Bri-

"I'm tired Quinn," I say defeated. "I don't need your friendship or any of your sympathy or apologies." I suck in my lips because I can tell that hurt. Quinn looks down at the ground and slowly nods her head. The thing is, not one part of me cares.

I felt like a new coin having been pressed out of sheet metal fresh on a Sunday afternoon. I felt new and wanted - of course not by anyone at school - but by my family and anyone that didn't know my past.

I was going to go to class early, I had nothing else to do. No one else to talk too. I would get through last period because I really wanted to do good in school. I really wanted to prove to my family that I could get somewhere.

No one here mattered because they weren't going to be apart of my future. Their opinions, their stares, their whispers didn't matter. I wasn't going to join anything for extra credit. Well maybe the Cheerios, but not until I've settled in more. The only other thing I'd be good in is Glee club and that's not going to happen again.

I reach my Spanish class but I'm stopped by a sudden knot tightening in my stomach. I hadn't eaten all day. I quickly make my way into the classroom, thankful that no one's arrived, and pull out a sandwich that Charlie begged to make me this morning.

My bag sits beside me as I unwrap my lunch and take small bites from it. It feels good to be in a quiet room for once.

I'm stopped between bites by rushed footsteps sprinting into the room. Mr. Schue.

He notices me as he throws his bag on the table and I jump, causing my chair to creak on the floor.

"Brittany? Wow," He seems genuinely happy. I'll definitely answer him nicely if he asks me questions.

"Hi," I say, careful not to spill anything from my mouth. Mr. Schue stays silent, just kind of staring at me. I think he's shocked. Yeah that's what it is. He's shocked to see me back after all of this time.

"Welcome back." He claps his hands together and rubs them slowly. He always used to do that when he wanted attention in Glee club. But we're not in Glee club and he's already got my attention. So maybe he's just nervous.

"Thanks," I mumble, wrapping the crust from my sandwich in the foil and place it in an empty pocket in my bag. I give him a small smile, because I'm still pissed off about Quinn and Santana earlier. Mostly Quinn because she's the most recent and because I had kind of gotten over Santana being really forward.

I don't want Mr. Schue knowing people are giving me a hard time because he'll tell Principle Figgins and then he'll tell my mom and I don't want to seem weak to her. I think I'll just remind her of my dad, because I can't stick up for myself.

The lesson is almost half way through and I've shrunk a little in my seat because of who my classmates are. I promised myself I'd act confident but since my little conversation with Sam I can't help but shy away from him and his jock friends.

Another reason I'm half way under the desk is because Santana is also in this class. She's seated a row in front of me to the left and I can clearly make out what she's drawing on her desk rather than learning.

I notice out of the corner of my eye someone looking my way. It's Puck, one of Sam's best friends. He's smirking at me and I frown as I watch him pretend to hump the table then point to me.

At first glance I cringe because I would have never thought of going for Puck in my life. But if Sam had accepted I would've let him do whatever he wanted with me right after we hung out for a bit. So I decide to play with Puck for a little while. I suggestively open my legs, and even though I'm wearing jeans, he looks there straight away. He looks up into my eyes again and I wink.

One of his eyebrows arches and I think I'm about to burst out laughing. He's still as easy now as I was at 14.

I slowly slide my tongue over my top lip and look him straight in the eye. Then without another action I look away and down at my book. I honestly don't know what Mr. Schue is talking about but I can recognize some Spanish sayings written down.

Whatever I'm reading seems unimportant to Santana as she throws a scrunched up note on my desk. I lift my eyebrows before staring over at her and shaking my head. She claps both hands together slowly in a praying motion and mouths 'please'.

I push it aside and continue reading. I can hear her groan and turn back towards the board and I inwardly smirk.

"Alright class, I'll let you go now, be sure to read chapter 4," Mr. Schue says, ushering people toward the door. I'm still seated, waiting for everyone to leave so I won't have to bump shoulders.

Santana notices me still seated and walks over to me. She brings a chair to my desk just as I move to get up.

"Aren't you going to read the note?" She pouts and I scoff loudly. I quickly grab my bag off the floor and notice Santana pick up the note. She grins sickeningly sweet at me.

I quickly brush past her and trudge out of the room and this time she doesn't follow.

I'm almost about to turn around and look at her expectingly when I remember that we aren't even friends and it's a good thing that she isn't following.

"Goodnight," I whisper to Charlie and Scott who are cuddling on the couch. The old me would be completely grossed out and actually pull them apart but the new me just smiles really sweetly at the them and walks off.

They both turn around to face me and whisper a quick 'goodnight' back before returning to their movie. I want to ask Scott why he got all of the sane genes in the family and why Santana seemed so abrasive. She was the first person in 3 years that actually wanted my attention.

I'm lying under a thin sheet on my bed because of the warm breeze. If I close my eyes I'll see them floating around me. If I keep my eyes open I'll feel them on my tongue. Every night before I'd go to sleep this would happen. I couldn't control it. I'd have to close my eyes, open them, close them, and open them. I'd do this until I couldn't see the white, orange, yellow and green mix of pills.

Dad always used to say I was drawn to the pretty colors. That's why I started dancing aswell. The colors of costumes and stage lights captured my attention instantly.

I haven't danced in 6 years.

As I turn to lay on my left side I forget about the pain in my shoulder and shut my eyes. I wouldn't go to the doctor for a check up. I couldn't hear him say I'd have to go on medication again. Last time I did that, he asked why I was still taking Oxycodone one year after my injury. Being 13 I was able to play the innocent card pretty well.

I'm getting better...

I repeat that to myself as I force the images of a full bottle out of my head and finally fall asleep.

Charlie had to be up earlier than normal in the morning so I had to pack my own lunch. It wasn't something I excelled in because I kept forgetting where the paper bags were kept. I found them after a long look through every cupboard, high and low.

When I unzipped my school bag a note fell to the floor. I picked it up and was over come with the thoughts of Spanish class yesterday. Santana had managed to slip the note in my bag, that's why she didn't follow me.

I unfolded the piece of paper and squinted my eyes. Santana has really small but clear hand writing.

Puck just wants in your pants, don't trust the cunt

I read over the note again and again before it was time for me to head to school. My first instinct was to shove the note in Santana's face and tell her to fuck off out of my business. But that would involve me paying attention to her and that's exactly what she wants.

So as I walked into the school hallway, I headed straight for the bleachers. I knew Santana wouldn't think of looking there because I had already used that hiding place once.

Some students were still giggling over the fact Sam had rejected me yesterday. I didn't really care, about anything really. Not their judgemental glares, or bitchy rumours. I kept walking at an average pace so they knew they couldn't hurt me.

When I reached the oval, I saw a few cheerleaders being rushed off towards the locker rooms by coach Sylvester. She was looking like someone had smashed her trophy case. I was glad in a way I never made it to the audition to be on the Cheerios.

"I love it when you touch me there."

My feet glued to their spot. I poked my head around the corner and saw the source of the voice. Mercedes Jones was being pressed up against the wall by Sam. He was thrusting his hips into her and his pants were halfway down his thighs. I made no noise but Mercedes eyes opened. She gaped at me and pushed Sam away. Her skirt that was hiked up around her waist was now being pulled down and flattened out. Sam faltered a little when he saw me before awkwardly brushing his fringe to the side and walking past me.

Mercedes followed him, shooting me a 'why the fuck were you just staring' look. Maybe it was the fact I hadn't been intimate with someone in so long, or because Sam had chosen Mercedes over me.

I sat down on the concrete under the bleachers and stared out between the cracks of the stairs. On the oval were some jocks, hitting and tackling each other roughly when one of them wasn't looking. I knew they were idiots. But one of them had to have some morals and values still.

Puck obviously didn't, but I was willing to give him a go. It would definitely piss Santana off. There was this urge inside of me wanting to make Santana really upset. I don't know why I didn't care because I always felt sympathetic to all of the meanest people. She seemed worse than anyone I had ever met though. She seemed heartless.

Why did Santana even care that Puck and I were flirting. She clearly shouldn't since Puck was the one that shoved the slushy in her face yesterday. I was sure of two things; I liked that Santana was jealous and I liked that I wanted to make her angry. Why? I have no clue.

I believe because I had returned out of the blue with unexpected eyes tearing holes in me, Santana felt intimated. Maybe she had been popular, before she came out. She was probably jealous of the attention I got, obviously not from Sam, but from Puck. Maybe I had been in her place in the past.

I could still feel the heat from the sun melting my skin away causing droplets of sweat to slide down my forehead. Underneath this massive structure I was safe, but still very vulnerable to some things.

As I began making my way across the oval, back towards school I winced as something heavy struck my head. The hit seemed accidental by the small gasps I heard before I lost conciousness.

When I woke up my back was against something comfortable. The school nurse asked if I remembered anything. I shook my head and tried to sit up, but was forced back down by another hand. A tanned, soft one that did not belong to the nurse.

"Lay back." I look up and squint my eyes because getting up fast and being pushed back down even faster gave me a head rush. I notice her eyes first, because of the daggers they shot me on my first day at Mckinley. Although her tone was flirtactious, her glare was hard.

"What are you doing here Santana?" I sighed and placed my hand on my forehead, not wanting to have to face her. If anyone but her was here I'd be more inviting. Maybe I could call Charlie.

"I freaking brought you here," She replied back. Her tone made me flinch a little but it went unnoticed by her. "Those fucks threw a football over the field and it hit you over the head. I was walking outside and noticed that no one was even bothering to help you, so..." She pauses and shrugs her shoulders comically. "Here we are." The grin on her face sickens me. She seems so fucking full of herself.

If she hadn't laughed at me along with the other students when Sam had turned down my offer to hang out, then maybe I'd give her a chance. But no, she was just like everyone else. I had to get out of here.

"I'm leaving," I said, quickly shuffling from the bed incase she tried to grab me.

"Thank you Santana," She yelled in mock appreciation. I kept walking with my head down and my hands clutching tightly around my mid section. I could hear her footsteps rush behind me but I only began running.

"Wait!" I turned a corner, heading for the exit. "Did you even read the note?"

I stopped in my tracks and breathed out a frustrated sigh. She wanted to know about the note, that was it. She'll leave me alone after this.

"Yes," I turned around and pinched my lips together before adding, "I can handle myself, so please just fuck off."

I didn't intend on adding any curse words, they just sort of slipped out. When Santana was around, every nasty word came to my head and I wasn't able to help but spill them out in tandem.

When I walked away, she didn't follow.

Thanks for reading, let me know what you think so far :)