It's five thirty. I heard my mother come home not long ago. I can smell dinner cooking and I feel instantly hungry. Brittany's still asleep on my bed. I know she hasn't slept much in the past week so it comforts me to see her resting. I wish I could get some sleep. My nights have become filled with trash television and sneaking hand rolled cigarettes and nips of brandy out of my father's study. I'm not scared that he'll catch me; I learned these habits from him after all. He had compensated for his fear of standing up to my mother by being extremely lax with his role in my upbringing, letting me swipe his flask for a quick swig when he dropped me off for school or burning a few stoges on the porch before mom got home from work.
My thoughts are interrupted by a vibration on the floor. It's Brittany's cell phone, her mom calling like she always does when Brit isn't home before dark.
"Hi Mrs. Pierce," I answer, not wanting to wake Brittany yet.
"Santana…hi…where's Brittany?" she asks.
"We're at my house. We were watching a movie and she fell asleep. I'm sorry if you were worried,"
"Well that's okay dear…it's just ever since the incident…I like her home before dark," she explains, choosing her words carefully to not upset me.
"I understand,"
"Think you can send her home, honey? Dinner's almost ready. You're more than welcome to join us," she offers. It's nice of her, but no doubt Brit's dad is home by now and he is not my biggest fan, ever since he had to pick Brittany and I up from one of Quinn's parties because we were both too wasted to drive…or walk for that matter. He had always accused me of trying to corrupt his little princess, forgetting full well that his first born, Brittany's older sister Kristen had ended up spending quite a few nights at the Lima Valley Police Department.
"Thanks, Mrs. Pierce, but my mom is cooking dinner and she'll freak if I don't eat here,"
"Okay dear, well just send Brittany on her way then," she reminds me. I comply with her and shake Brittany awake gently.
"Brit Brit…your mom just called. She wants you home for dinner,"
"Okay," she mumbles sleepily. I can't help but smile at her raspy voice and bed head. I sit up and walk over to my closet, pulling a hoodie over my torso and stepping into my sneakers. I work my way around the room, picking up Brittany's clothes piece by piece and handing them to her.
"Are you coming over for dinner?" she asks me, stepping into her skirt.
"Nah, my mom's cooking for once. I better eat here," I reply, wondering how she looks just as sexy putting clothes on as she does taking them off. She finishes getting dressed and uses my brush to smooth out her sex hair so she can get through dinner without interrogation.
"I'll just take you home and pick you up in the morning for school," I tell her, remembering that she left her car there. She slips her coat on and checks herself in the mirror.
"San, I have hickies all over my neck. What am I gonna do?" she whines. I root through my dresser and pull out some cover up, handing it to her.
"Sorry babe," I mumble, watching her try to cover the marks on her skin.
"It's okay San but if my dad sees it he'll go crazy!" she reminds me. I shudder at the thought of her father finding the evidence of our afternoon delight tagged along her neck.

I drop Brittany off at home and head downtown to the old factory. There's a few cars in the parking lot, which surprises me. I had told my mother I would be stopping at the library after dropping Brittany off to get some books for a project. Yet here I sit, freezing half to death, willingly putting myself in a situation where I would likely have my ass handed to me. But the more I think about that night, the way the knife felt against my face, the sound of Brittany's terrified whimpers…the more I feel I need to do this…to act out physically just to prove I can. He didn't break me. I can do this.
I step out of my car and head toward the building, shoving my fists into the pockets of my hoodie. There's a tall girl standing by the door smoking a cigarette. She has a black eye and nearly everything on her face is pierced.
"What are you lookin at?" she growls at me, blowing smoke in my face.
"Um…I'm looking for someone. I don't know her name…she's like really built…brown hair…I think she's like a boxer or something," I say, realizing she's less than impressed with me.
"What are you like ten?" she chuckles, flicking what's left of her cigarette down at my feet.
"Um…seventeen actually. Do you know who I'm talking about?" I try again.
"You're looking for Jamie. She's downstairs. Don't get yourself killed, I don't want to be the last person who saw your bitch ass alive," she quips, moving away from the door. I look down at my feet and shuffle past her inside. The place is filthy, having been abandoned for the better part of my childhood. Quinn and I used to sneak here when we were in middle school and break the windows out with rocks, before she got all goody two shoes. Her parents made it a habit of reminding her 'That Lopez girl from the rough side of town is bad news' Whatever.
I make my way down the steel staircase and can already hear commotion coming from below. This place smells musty and vaguely of sweat. As my feet hit the bottom floor of the building I'm amazed at what I see.
There's girls all resembling the beast I just encountered outside filling the room wall to wall, and they're paired off in twos, pounding the shit out of each other. Some girls are fighting, some are just watching, but they're all pumped up. I can see blood stains on the concrete floor. Some girls are sitting against the wall waiting. Others are hunched in corners, spitting out blood and teeth. Holy shit. What did I get myself into?
"You actually showed," Jamie saunters her way toward me. Her fists are tattered and bloody, but her face is untouched. Fuck.
"What the hell is this?"
"What's it look like, stupid?" she mocks me, cracking her knuckles. I take a few steps backward, reaching for the banister of the stair case.
"Backing out? You are a pussy, just like I thought," she says smugly as a slightly less athletic girl stands behind her rubbing her shoulders. She uses the dirty towel the girl hands her to wipe the sweat from her face. My fear turns into rage and her eyes never leave me as I step back in front of her. She has a few inches on me but I manage to bring my face to hers, my fists clenched.
"Let's do this," I mumble. She grins wickedly and tosses the towel aside.
"Kick her ass, Jamie," the girl behind her cackles and then clears a larger space for us on the floor. I pull my sweatshirt over my head and toss it to the side. I can feel my jaw trembling as I put my fists up. I take a deep breath. Fuck. This is going to hurt.
We're standing barely a foot from each other, staring each other down.
"Fight!" the towel girl yells suddenly. Jamie wastes no time and lunges toward me with a right hook. I duck away from it and take a few steps back. She looks pissed and steps toward me quickly, sending another right hook my way. This one connects and the burning in my face causes me to stumble. Son of a bitch. I run toward her and she stops me by thrusting her open palm upward into my nose. People start to cheer at the sight of blood.
"Give up yet, bitch tits?" she calls me out, high fiving a few people behind her. I wipe the blood off my face and lunge at her from behind. I grab her by her hair and hurl her down to the ground. I use her shock to my advantage and deliver a few swift kicks to her ribs. She shoots up quickly and grabs me by my knees, knocking me onto my back with a thud.
"Don't kick! Only pussies kick!" she yells, pinning me down tightly by my throat. Right when I feel like I'm about to pass out from lack of oxygen she lets go and stands up. She paces circles around me.
"Get up!" she yells angrily. I shoot up as quickly as I can and try making a run for her again. I duck my head down as I bolt toward her, with the intention of knocking her to the ground. I can't beat her when she's on her feet, she's too damn fast.
She holds out an open palm, catching my head and freezing me in the process. I continue pumping my legs, trying to break through the hold she has on me, but she's just too strong. I attempt to connect with a few swings, right and left, but all I come up with is air.
"That was cute," she chuckles and grabs me by the hair on either side of my head. She delivers a powerful kick to my stomach, followed quickly by her knee swiftly colliding with the bottom of my chin. With that final blow she releases me and I hit the cold concrete face down. I'm barely conscious but awake enough for the cheers and cackles to ring through my throbbing ears. I glance up and see her high fiving these beasts and being congratulated. She walks over to where my sweatshirt lays on the ground and tosses it over my face.
"Now get the fuck out of here…and come back when you can actually fight," she gloats, causing everyone to cheer again. I stand up shakily and turn toward the stairs, getting up them as quickly as I can and outside. While I wait for my car to warm up I check my appearance in the mirror. My nose doesn't look too bad, nothing like the number the mugger did on it. My cheek is starting to swell, though. Shit…what can I tell mom this is from? I see a half full bottle of water on the floor and pick it up. It's half frozen. I hold it to my cheek, and it stings at first making me wince. Think Lopez, think. You've lied your way out of worse before. Just tell her someone reached for the same book as you at the library and started a fight. No, that's stupid. Tell her you stopped at the gas station for an energy drink and it got robbed and the guy punched you out. Yeah right, real believable, Santana. I'll just tell her I wasn't paying attention and smacked myself in the face with the car door. That'll do.
My ears are ringing and my brain is throbbing, but I feel more alive than I have in days. My adrenaline is pumping. Most people would call it quits after a public ass whooping like I just got, but somehow I catch myself in the mirror grinning.
This is just what I need.