Broken (1/4)
Title: Broken (1/4)
Pairing: Santana/Brittany;
Rating: R (Sexual situations and language)
Summary: Set long after Santana and Britt-Britt are dating. A member of our duo becomes a victim of a hate crime. The story of the Transgender woman getting beaten in the McDonalds inspired this.
Spoilers: None (Just the common obvious notion that Santana and Brittany are magnets to one another)
Broken
"Hey! Where's the girlfriend?"
Brittany came to a halt as a familiar figure stepped into her path. Dave Karofsky was around her age, even still he was a bear of a man - entirely muscle. She felt two more large teens come up behind her and shot a quick glance to them before turning her back to the alley so she could keep all three in visual contact.
"You know? The feisty Latina with the great ass you can't keep your hands off of?"
Brittany had waited over an hour for her mother to take her home from dance practice that night, but she seemed to be a no show. Quinn had left right away and Santana was once again grounded. Not wanting to sit any longer, she decided to head home on foot. She was sure Santana was busy being lectured… as usual for her behavior. Earlier today, she had worn a skirt that was too short for the dress code, though Brittany didn’t mind, the administration immediately sent her home.
It was never dangerous in Lima after dark, and she'd spent enough time around Santana that she felt confident she'd know what to do should trouble arise. Now as trouble stood before her, she wondered if she'd made the right choice.
"So where is she? Leave you all alone tonight?"
Brittany knew little of Karofsky and nothing of the large football players behind her. But it was obvious that they knew enough about her to know Santana. Lately, they were less shy about their affection for each other in public: especially, after prom. Around the glee club, it felt natural to hug or kiss or dance around their friends. No one said anything and no one hassled them. Sure once and awhile Sam, Puck, and Finn stared, only to get smacked by Mercedes or Quinn. These guys however didn't look like they were looking for a three way fantasy, but trouble.
Ducking for an escape, Brittany did her best to squeeze past the mammoth men. But Karofsky took a step closer, “Where do you think you’re going?” He voice sounded dark, thick with a hint of anger. How could he be angry with me? He barely even knows me, she thought. Finally, she found her voice although her fear seeped into it.
"Wh-What do you want?"
"Wh-What do I wa-wa-want?" he mimicked her cruelly. He smelled of alcohol and his body seemed to sway a bit. "I just wanted to ask you a question."
Again, Brittany scanned the closing space for a possible escape route as she played along. "Then ask," she answered using all of her will not to stutter again. She squared her shoulders and kept her eyes focused on the men before her. If anything, Santana had taught her to show courage even if she didn't feel it. It was half the battle of facing her parents when they questioned their relationship. These guys couldn't be that different she figured. She took a deep breath to steady her nerves.
Karofsky continued, "I've got a theory,” he said. “Carpet lickers get off on chicks just because they've never had a real man. Isn’t that true?"
The two men behind her seemed to have hollow eyes. Even as Brittany felt her expression plead with them for help, for escape, they gave no surrender. Feigning confidence, she turned back to the leader, "Nice theory," she told them as casually as she could muster. "But Santana is real enough man for me."
“Well, I’m a real man. Let’s see how you feel after me.” Karofsky zoned in on her, but then swayed a bit, leaving a tight opening to his right. Realizing the opportunity, Brittany darted for it. Her feet took off, running as fast as she could. Catching him off balance she pushed past the huddle and scrambled toward the empty neighborhoods. Puck’s house was only two blocks away and if she could hold them off until then…
If there was one thing Brittany had in her favor, it was agility. The three men barreled after her as she darted like a rabbit through the dark. Bushes and fences seemed to propel her forward, while holding the larger boys back. Underbrush smashed under their weight as they ran after her. The wind pulled Brittany ahead, darting between parked cars and past mailboxes. She screamed, “Fire! Fire!” at each house as she passed, hoping for a savior.
Somewhere in the fear of what was happening, she remembered one of Mr. Shue’s moral lessons. People will ignore rape calls, not wanting to get involved. But 'fire' will get more people's attention and give you a chance of getting help. Another thought occurred to her too: she was losing her breath and Karofsky and his friends were too determined to stop.
Suddenly, rounding a lot, she felt her arm snare up and her feet go out from under her as she tried to pass around a fence. She fell, skidding harshly against the gravely cement. The pavement tore up her palms and she felt small rocks embed themselves into her skin. From the sharp pain in her knee and her elbow where she landed on the rough concrete, she knew she had to be skinned up pretty bad.
Although it seemed she had a good lead on them, she felt one of the boys grab her shirt and push her back against the cool concrete floor as the others quickly approached. Her palms pushed back against the hard floor, but she could not move. Karofsky grabbed her by the arms while one man tried to get her feet. She kicked for all she was worth, but fatigue began to set in and she felt herself growing more and more limp.
Fighting and screaming, Brittany did not relent and Karofsky shoved his forearm in her mouth as he pulled her into the shadows. Brittany tried to bite, but his arm locked her jaw in place impeding motion to get a good enough clamp on his arm. Once back far enough, the man holding her legs let go while Karofsky threw her into a garage wall. Her head hit hard against the bricks leaving a small gash on her forehead. The universe shifted in her eyes and things spun and blurred; even still, she could not back down; although shifting, she did her best to stand.
As her eyes steadied, Brittany made a moment of eye contact with Karofsky. Suddenly he too looked terrified. The large boys were in control now, one, tall and dark, stepped forward to backhand her across the face. The blow hit her jaw solidly and spun her like a top. Once again she fell into the wall. Her conscience was growing vague as she slipped from lucidity. The iron taste of blood began to trickle in her mouth from a cut lip.
"Get her arms," yelled the darker boy. The brunette lurched forward for her and Brittany felt her arms become pinned to the wall. She tried again to kick at him, but could not reach. As the dark haired boy reached down towards her skirt, Brittany’s heart filled with dread. With a single tear, he ripped it up the front. She watched helpless through hazy eyes as he started to undo his belt.
His cruel voice confirmed her fear, "You just need a real man, dyke. I'm gonna give you a real man."
“Please don’t.” she whispered. “Please.”
A sweaty hand palmed her stomach. She squirmed against it, but was held down again. The heat of his hand and rage of his desire caused every nerve in her body to flinch in terror. “Please.” She whispered again, this time to whatever deity might find her.
A firm voice cut through the commotion, “Back the Fuck off!”
All three burly men, turned toward the shadows of the alley, trying to see who spoke. Brittany, recognized the voice, but her senses blurred. She tried to move free as the dark haired boy took a step toward the shadows. The interrupting voice had disrupted his fun. Brittany’s resistance was useless, however. The thug's entourage kept a tight hold on her arms although he too turned to see what the commotion was about.
Casually, Puck stepped into view. He took one look at the group before taking off his jacket and tossing it to the ground. Slowly he walked toward them.
"I'll show you a real man," he told them confidently. He walked toward Karofsky boldly, “I hear that’s what you’re looking for anyway.”
Immediately, Karofsky back pedaled into a bush behind him. “B-b-back up, asshole.” He stuttered stepping forward again from the bush.
The brunette continued to hold Brittany’s arms as the dark haired leader stood back and watched. No one moved. Maybe it was shock of how casual Puck was about it all, the way he just strolled out of nowhere and told them to back off. None of the men knew quite what to do.
“Listen,” Puck saw his vantage point and took aim, “The way I see it you don’t have good options…” He crossed to them. “You stand here like dumb asses while I beat the shit out of each of you, or you can go and I’m sure to beat the shit out of you later.”
The dark haired boy took a brave step toward Puck, “Three to one… are you really betting on those odds?…”he sneered triumphantly.
Puck stepped forward. “Three to two,” he motioned to Brittany still squirming from the brunette’s grasp. “The dancer still has some fight left in her.”
With that Brittany kicked out again, this time her long leg lashed out to the brunette holding her who promptly let go. “Bitch!” he yelped taking a step back.
“Let’s go,” Karofsky motioned, visibly disturbed, “We don’t need this.” He backed away, eyeing Puck. The brunette followed leaving behind the dark haired man.
Puck chuckled, “Two to one now, dipshit.” He balled his fists and glanced to the blonde. “Britt, do you want the first swing?” The dark haired boy glanced back to Brittany crumpled slightly on the ground against the wall.
Looking back to Puck, he was met with a sharp fist. CRACK! His head hurled back. Puck swung again landing a hard punch into the punk’s jaw. Dark hair flung away with another loud crack. The man reeled back stumbling.
Puck wiped his brow, “Sorry Britt,” he said breathing heavy with a wicked grin, “I couldn’t help myself.”
Stumbling, the dark haired kid, tottered off holding his eye. Puck waited a moment standing guard, “We aren’t finished here.” He said watching them cower away, before rushing to Brittany’s rescue.
Crouching down, he lifted the girl from the ground. Her knees hung limply, scratched, bleeding, and dangling over his arm. “Come one.” He said. Brittany rolled her head.
“I’m okay,” she mumbled into Puck’s neck. “I can walk.”
“I know you can,” Puck said carrying her toward his mom’s car. “I just didn’t get a chance to go to the gym today.”
“You smell like cinnamon bears.”
Stifling a laugh, Puck placed Brittany into the passenger side. She made a soft moan of pain as he lifted the seatbelt over her shoulder.
“Did you see me kick him?” She smiled under her bruised lip. “I was like a ninja!”
Puck smiled climbing into his own seat beside her. Althoug he seemed unaffected, his heart raced with adrenaline. Soon, his anxiety turned to dread as he looked at his phone and realized it was not only his job to take Brittany to the hospital, but also to call Santana.