Trigger Warning for rape and sexual assault. Based on episode 3x05.

Sometimes Santana asks me to remember that night. She wants me to talk about it and let the feelings out but I dunno, I don't really feel like doing that. It was a long time ago...at least it felt that way...but that might be because I haven't lived a lot of years like my mum. To her three years might seem like not much at all. To me that was when I was like...fourteen. I don't remember much from being fourteen aside from that time Santana let me braid all of her hair and put beads in the bottom and that time we stole my sister's plastic tea set and had a tea party with real tea and everything and that time Santana punched Puck because he said I looked weird and lanky and that all my brain blood must be in my feet. Okay I guess I remember a fair bit but I just don't really remember that thing.

I remembered the sunset before, how we were drinking Sue's Master Cleanse and sneaking in lollies on the outskirts of the oval. I remember her whining about how my tent mate kept sneaking over to the boy's area. Is it funny that I can't remember her name? We had been on the Cheerios together for a whole year but I can't remember her name no matter how I try. I guess it's not important though, she was just a red blur along with the other and I remember being a bit sad about not having her colours to light up my tent. Santana got really mad, I remember her yelling over the oval but she was stuck with the captain to keep an eye on her after she snuck out to be with me the previous camp so I was just left with me and darkness.

I remember picturing colours and patterns on the top of my tent, like they would keep me company when it was just me. I remember the colours growing and expanding and I remember wishing Santana was there when I heard things in around the tent. I wasn't scared, I knew possums lived in the woods, everyone knew that and I wasn't stupid or anything but it was lonely and I wasn't tired- the colours kept on distracting me.

I remembered how Santana's face had looked when I showed her all the candy I had snuck from home, how she had kissed me on the cheek before going straight for a Hershey's Kiss. I felt the warm, spicy tang of the chocolate when she kissed me straight after, met her tongue with my own and tasted her sweetness. I remember later that night he wasn't sweet. He was heavy and tasted like when you spray too much of man perfume around. I still had the taste of yellow Jolly Ranchers in my mouth though; yellow because I knew Santana liked the red ones best so I told her I didn't like them.

I remember the way the yellow taste fell out of my mouth when I yelled that first time, how it curled around the tent and gave me a bit of light to help through all the darkness. The man smell and his noises and the feel of him kept trying to block out the yellow and so I pictured Santana's face when I made her eat a yellow one that one time, annoyed then scrunched up then adorable and then a calmness as she gave me a red one in return.

That was all I felt then, red, but I kept on trying to watch the yellow and ignore the way my body was screaming out everywhere, how much the red pain was making it hard to see, how the tears that I didn't notice were coming out and turning grey. Grey was all I really remember after the red and yellow. It didn't matter, grey wasn't as scary as people thought. It was comforting like a blanket and not hard on your eyes at all. Santana once said that grey was her least favourite colour but then I told her that grey was beautiful and kissed her until she believed it.

Grey was the colour of the sky the next morning when Santana climbed into my tent. The clouds were everywhere but it was so many different shades and the cold from outside made my skin tingle so I told her to leave the flap open. She was worried at first, told me that something from the woods might come in and grab us or attack us but I hugged her and thanked the picture on Quinn's mantel shelf that Santana wasn't here too. The only thing in the woods that could hurt us then were possums and Sue Sylvester's Master Cleanse.

I didn't want to get up that day, my everything hurt like I had been hit by a tree...or I had hit a tree except the ache wasn't just outside and on my wrists where the red colours from that night lingered but the inside where I felt the black of the night inside me, filling me up and making me feel like I wasn't going to be able to do anything like I normal person again.

Red was ever where when he was there, sneaking in and appearing just like from one of those movies and it was only when I stood up that I realised that the red had stayed all over the bed in half dried pools. I knew I had to tell Santana, there was nothing she didn't know and although usually our secrets were blue and yellow and green, I knew I couldn't keep this one from her just because it was red.