Brittany

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Brittany meant to go to lunch. She was supposed to go to lunch. But she found herself standing outside of the gym where it all happened. She hummed and rocked as she paced outside the door. She felt so guilty that she didn't know if she could go on.

Steeling herself, she pushed open the door... and immediately wished she didn't. The janitors were cleaning up the mess left behind in the aftermath. Many girls (and a few guys) lost their breakfasts at the sight of blood and the custodial crew had to mop the vomit up.

But her attention wasn't on the squeamish churnings; no, her sights were on the dark puddles of blood. Marcy had bled in several spots and there was a faint outline of her body to prove it. The largest puddle was from her arm and Brittany nearly vomited herself at the memory and smell. It reached her nose the moment she stepped inside.

The blonde walked closer, oblivious to the workers and her to them. Spatter was within a two foot radius around the outline and a trail led to the double doors, where the medics had wheeled the ornery co-captain out.

Brittany covered her mouth as the blood, vomit and bleach assaulted her senses. Tears raced down her cheeks and she started hyperventilating as she sank to her knees. She couldn't take being in there but she couldn't force her feet to move. It was torture. The sounds of the staff cleaning and carrying on as if a tragedy hadn't occurred made her reel. She wanted to scream at them that her friend could have died. That she still might not be out of the woods. It was cruel of them to laugh and joke and sing along to the radio as if Marcy wasn't in the hospital.

And it was all her fault... She and Marcy had come up with the routine. She should have made sure Sophie could remember it. She should have known if the other blonde had her part down. It was the reason Coach Sylvester let the trio (Brittany, Santana and Marcy) come up with routines instead of hiring a professional. They were able to see each girl's (and boy's) weaknesses and strengths and make them work for the team. It was their job. They had a talent for it. Why after all this time did it fail her?

Brittany took cheering seriously. It and dancing were her core strengths. How could it fail her? And so fatally at that? Marcy was her friend. A good friend. Most people tolerated her ramblings but it seemed as if Marcy actually understood them. Her friends were her rock and she was grateful for each one. She relied on them. She needed them. All of them. Safe and sound but one wasn't.

She didn't know how long she sat on her knees but she felt a hand of her back and foolishly hoped it was Marcy coming to tell her everything was a big joke. A big cruel hurtful joke. But it wasn't. She expected Artie or Santana but it was Kurt. "Kurt?"

He knelt beside her and pulled her into his arms silently.

"Oh Kurt!" She cried harder. She couldn't seem to get a grip and feared she'd never stop crying. The cleaning crew looked at her strangely but she didn't care. She was hurting. Her friend was hurt and she was hurting. Let them look!

When she'd calmed some, Kurt pushed her fine hair from her forehead. "I thought you'd come back."

"It's all my fault!" She wailed.

"No, it's not." He denied. "Sophie dropped her on purpose."

"You don't know that, Kurt." Brittany shook her head. "Sophie isn't that mean. She wouldn't do that."

Kurt had his reservations about that but inclined his head. "I don't know for fact. You're right. But either way, it's not your fault."

"Then why do I feel like this?"

"Because one of our own is hurt. So we blame ourselves. But it's not your fault, Britt."

Brittany sat there a moment, absorbing his words. "It's not my fault."

Kurt shook his head. "No."

"Do you think Sophie dropped her on purpose?" Kurt didn't say anything. "Kurt. I need you to tell me."

Swallowing hard, he nodded. "Yes. I do. Santana said Sophie dropped her and I believe she did, too."

The two sat still as they watched the workers finish cleaning. Once they were gone, Brittany stood. "Okay."

Kurt blinked at the sudden change in the blonde. "Okay?"

She held out a hand to help him rise. "Sophie did it on purpose."

Kurt wanted to ask what was going on in her head but feared it echoed what was in his own. "Let's go have lunch. Artie and Tana are worried about you."

She led him intertwine their arms and lead her to the doors before saying, "They need to worry about her."

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