She had read about it in magazines and newspapers. She had heard the horrific stories from her mother and father. She had watched a countless number of television programmes about it at night when she was feeling lonely in her apartment. She just never thought that it was going to happen to her. It wasn't supposed to happen to her. Her life had been slowly spiralling out of control, but it was never have meant to have gone this far. Her head was pounding. The room was spinning. The pristine white walls blinded her mocha brown eyes. She wanted to cry. She wanted to shout. She wanted to scream.
For the first time in her life, Santana Lopez was absolutely terrified.
She doesn't remember much about last night, only that she was at the bar on her own. Quinn, Puck and Sam usually went with her but they were all supposed to be working the next morning so they decided to stay in. Quinn had warned her not to go out on her own, but Santana never listened. She told Quinn to stop acting like her mother and then hung up on her. She remembers entering the bar already a little bit tipsy from the pre-drinks that she had drank back in her apartment. She hadn't drunk that much, just the last three bottles of beer that lay in her empty refrigerator.
She just wanted to have a good time and relax. She wanted to forget about all of the stress for a little while. She wanted a break.
The hours that she spent at the bar are a blur in her mind. She doesn't remember how much she had to drink, or how both men and women approached her to buy her drinks, which she happily accepted before telling them she wasn't interested in them. However, she does remember getting angry when the bartender told her that it was closing time. She remembers pushing herself off the barstool and having to grab onto the counter in an attempt to steady herself. She remembers staggering through the streets of Los Angeles and how with every step she took, her already blurred vision gradually became darker and darker until she could barely see anything at all. She remembers the sound of her blood rushing to her ears. She remembers how her heart felt as if it was going to pound out of her chest at any given second as she pulled her phone out of her purse and dialled Quinn's number. She remembers screaming down the phone for help...
She can't remember anything after that. Her memory goes blank.
Santana screws her eyes tightly shut to block out the thoughts that are invading her mind. She doesn't want to relive it. She wants to forget about it all. She was stupid and made a big mistake that she now has to live with. Exhaling deeply through her nose, Santana tries to concentrate on the noises around her. Although she finds that difficult because the machine that she's hooked up to won't stop beeping. If she had the strength to move, then she'd force it to be quiet, but she doesn't even know what it's for so decides just to put up with it instead.
The door to her room opens and Santana hears two sets of footsteps approaching. Thinking that it's just a couple of nurses to get the machine to stop beeping, she doesn't bother to open her eyes and acknowledge them. She knows how nurses work, as soon as they know she's awake, they'll bombard her with questions and poke and prod at her until she leaves. They'll also probably give her a lecture about being reckless and irresponsible, but she hears them from Quinn and Rachel all of the time so she doubts they could tell her anything new.
"It seems as if everything is fine, she just needs to rest." Someone speaks, interrupting the silence, and Santana takes an instant dislike to them. Their voice sounds scratchy and irritable and she thinks that she'd rather listen to someone drag their nails down a chalkboard than listen to the nurse speak. "Her doctor should be here soon, you may sit with her and wait."
If it weren't for the fact that she was pretending to be asleep, Santana would have her eyes open in an instant to see who else is in the room with her. She doesn't have any family in Los Angeles and she's sure that everyone in her small group of friends that she does have are all working this morning. She hears the door close again and then her attention turns to focus on the footsteps of the stranger in the room. They're getting closer and she feels her heart rate begin to pick back up. She doesn't know why she's panicking.
"You can stop pretending now, the nurse is gone Santana."
Santana doesn't think she's ever been so relieved to hear the voice of her best friend, Quinn Fabray. When she opens her eyes, she finds Quinn sitting in the chair next to her bed. The usual sparkle in her round hazel eyes are gone and are instead replaced by heavy dark bags under her eyelids. Santana knows that her mistake is what caused this. Her drinking habits have not just affected her this time.
She wants to ask Quinn what the hell happened and what's currently going on, but she can't get the words out of her mouth. They're trapped. More importantly, Santana wants to apologise to Quinn for dragging her through this mess wit her, but those words are also trapped. She feels completely drained, her body is too tired to do anything.
It's not often that Santana feels bad about what she has done to other people, but right now she feels terrible. If her best friend looks like she hasn't slept for days, she doesn't even want to imagine how Puck must be looking and feeling right now. He's always had a soft spot for her, they're like brother and sister. She's sure that Kurt and Rachel are worried about her too and she's certain that once she's back home, she'll receive a lecture from both of them about how irresponsible she was. Oddly enough, she's kind of looking forward to it. Her thoughts drift towards her last 'friend', Sam. She likes to use the term 'friend' loosely around him because they don't particularly get along. She's pretty sure he doesn't care about her accident. He doesn't care about a lot of things. Now that she thinks about it, she doesn't even know why he's living with Kurt and Rachel. She blames the pair of them for being too nice and letting him stay.
"You blacked out, split your head open, and had to get your stomach pumped." Quinn states, her voice wavering slightly. "What the hell were you thinking, Santana? Were you even thinking at all?" She adds when she realises that the woman lying in the hospital bed isn't going to say anything.
The fact that Quinn isn't shouting at her makes everything worse, in Santana's opinion. If Quinn had shouted at her and called her irresponsible and immature then she would have pretended as if it was like any other night she had gotten a little too drunk and had to face the wrath of Quinn the following morning. This time isn't like any other time though, because she's not just woken up in her own bed with a killer hangover. This time, it's serious. She's lying in hospital with stitches in her head and her stomach pumped. She can't just pretend as if everything is okay.
"You called me during the middle of the night screaming for help!" Quinn continues, and this time Santana can see the tears silently running down her cheeks. She's never seen Quinn cry before. It's something they have never done in front of each other, and it makes her heart ache. "I had no idea where you were, Santana! Puck and I had to come out looking for you without knowing where to search! You're lucky that Puck knew the route to your favourite bar! Do you know what could have happened if we never found you? You could have..." Quinn trails off as she swallows the lump in her throat. She can't bring herself to finish her sentence, but the look of fear on Santana's face tells her that the Latina is thinking exactly the same.
Santana could have died.
"I know that you never meant for it to get this far." Quinn sniffs, bringing her hand up to wipe the tears away from her eyes. "None of us thought it was going to get this far. We all thought that it was just some kind of rough patch that you'd eventually get through on your own. We never thought that you would end up here, in hospital."
Santana takes a moment to let Quinn's words sink in. She never thought that it would get to this point either. She had always been able to handle her drink, even from a young age. She never expected to be lying in a hospital bed because of her drinking habits. Her life was a mess. She was a mess. Everything was a mess, and it was all of her fault. How could she have been so careless?
Santana's thoughts are interrupted when the door opens once again. She guesses that the man standing there must be the doctor as he's wearing a white coat, has a clipboard under his arm, and is already making his way over to read her chart that's hanging on the bottom of her bed. He reminds her of her own father. She knows that he would have a heart attack if he saw her like this and she silently prays that none of her friends have called her parents yet. She does planning on telling them about the incident at some point. She just doesn't want them finding out over the phone by one of her friends. It wouldn't be fair on them.
She forces herself to focus on the situation at hand and watches as the doctor scribbles down a few notes. She has no idea what's going on right now, and she doesn't really care. She just wants to go home and sleep the day away. She has a feeling Quinn won't let her, but she's going to try anyway. She'd rather be sleeping than forcing herself to think about what has happened. If she could, she would block it out of her mind completely.
"Well Santana, everything seems to be looking good so far." The doctor eventually speaks as he places the chart back down. He doesn't sound as grumpy as the nurse did, but there's just something about him that makes Santana dislike him. She thinks it's because he sounds, and looks, so happy. "If the stitches in your head look fine then we can let you go."
The thought of actually going home is both terrifying and appealing to Santana. On one hand it gives her the opportunity to relax in an environment she's used to, but on the other, she knows that it's where her demons are lurking. She doesn't want them to take over her life once again.
Santana remains frozen in place as the doctor begins to inspect her head wound. If this had been in any other circumstance, she probably would have bit the doctor's arm off for getting so close unexpectedly, but she's caused enough trouble so she decides against it. She's pretty sure Quinn would murder her if she caused any more drama. She doesn't want to push it.
"Everything seems to be healing nicely." The doctor concludes as he takes a few steps back, and Santana feels like she can breathe again. "Your head is going to hurt for the next few days, so make sure you remember to take pain relief. I'll get the nurse to come and discharge you."
The doctor exits the room before she can even say anything, but she doesn't care. She still can't find her voice so it's not like she could have asked him something anyway. She glances over at Quinn and notices that she is reading some kind of pamphlet. Santana wonders where she got it from, but her question is quickly answered when she looks over to the bedside table and sees multiple leaflets all to do with having a drinking problem. She knows that she should probably follow Quinn's lead and picks one up to read, but she just can't bring herself to do it. She doesn't want to admit she's got a problem. It scares her.
It doesn't take long to be discharged from the hospital and before Santana can fully comprehend what is actually happening, she finds herself sitting in the passenger's seat of Quinn's car. The radio isn't on like it usually is during car rides with Quinn, and Santana takes this as a sign that her best friend wants to talk about what has happened. She doesn't want to upset the blonde more so than she already has, but she decides to just bite the bullet and go for it. They're going to have this conversation at some point, whether they like it or not.
"I'm sorry." Santana breaks the silence, surprising herself at just how hoarse her voice sounds. She's aware that 'sorry' doesn't make up for what she's done, but she doesn't know what else to say. If she could go back in time then she wouldn't have even of gone to the bar on her own. "I didn't think it was going to be this bad. I didn't even think I had that much to drink when I was at the bar, but then when I started to walk home I knew that something was wrong. I-I panicked Quinn, and I called you because I had nobody else."
Quinn sighs heavily and takes her eyes off the road for a second so that she can look at the broken Latina that is sitting next to her. For the ten years that she has been friends with Santana, she has never seen her look this terrified before and the sight makes her heart break. She wants to comfort her and tell her that everything is going to be okay, but she can't promise that. Not yet anyway. Her best friend's life is in pieces and she needs to help her put them back together, even though she is extremely angry at Santana for putting her through the toughest and most stressful twelve hours of her life.
"Santana, I know you didn't mean it." Quinn replies softly, her voice just above a whisper. "Yes, you were reckless and irresponsible, but I know that you would never have done something like this on purpose." She pauses and takes a deep breath, thinking about what she wants to say next. "I could hear how scared you were on the phone. I can't get your terrified screams out of my head. It's like they're haunting me for not being with you that night."
The car journey plunges back into silence, but neither woman seems to mind. Quinn keeps her eyes fixed on the road ahead, and Santana leans her head against the window, casting her gaze on to the streets that they are driving through. She didn't think that she could feel any worse than before, but Quinn's confession has made her feel like she's the worst human being on the planet. She can't even begin to imagine how the blonde must be feeling right now or what she had to go through since the event took place.
Quinn parks her car outside of her apartment fifteen minutes later, which causes Santana to screw up her face in confusion because she doesn't understand why the blonde never dropped her off at her own apartment. She wants to ask Quinn the reasoning behind this, but deep down she knows the answer. If she goes back to her own apartment, Quinn is worried that she'll have a drink to relax. Santana wants to scoff at the unspoken accusation, but decides against it because she knows that if it weren't for the fact that she drank the last of the alcohol in her apartment last night, then she probably would have given into temptation. The lack of self control and self discipline she has disgusts her. Shaking the thoughts out of her head, she silently follows Quinn's lead and gets out of the car whilst wrapping her arms around her body to shield herself from the cold October air that is nipping at her skin.
When they enter the apartment, Quinn immediately excuses herself to go to the bathroom so Santana wanders through into the living room on her own and takes a seat on the couch. She pulls down the comforter that's lying over the back of it, and drapes it over her body, making sure to cover her feet. She has a feeling that she'll be staying on the couch for a while so she wants to at least be comfortable on it. Looking around the room, her gaze stops on the large flat screen television that is hanging on the wall. She internally debates about whether to turn it on or not, but she decides against it when she remembers just how annoyed Quinn gets at Puck whenever he has it on during the day. She doesn't want another reason for the blonde to be angry at her.
Letting out a loud yawn, Santana slouches down even further into the couch and pulls the comforter up to cover her shoulders, keeping it in place with her chin. She can feel her eyelids begin to droop, but she tries to fight against the tiredness. She wants to wait for Quinn to get back so that they can at least talk. Well, that's if the blonde wants to. She can understand if Quinn just wants some time on her own.
Quinn enters the living room a few minutes later and clears her throat awkwardly to make her presence known. She takes a seat next to Santana and runs her fingers through her short blonde hair, showing a clear sign that she's stressed out. "You need to rest, Santana." She says, turning her body so that she's facing the Latina. "It's been a long twenty four hours."
"You need the rest more than I do." Santana tries to joke, but neither of them find it funny. "Do you want to talk about the incident?" She asks quietly, casting her gaze away from her best friend because she doesn't have the strength to look her in the eyes just yet. It's too early for that.
Quinn simply shakes her head in response, a small smile etching onto her face. "We can talk about it after we've both had some rest. I think we're too tired and emotional to have a serious conversation right now, don't you think?"
Santana knows that the woman sitting next to her is right and so she nods her head in agreement. Sleep is probably the best option right now as it will give them both the opportunity to have a rest and clear their minds. She watches as Quinn begins to get up from the couch and she begins to panic. She doesn't want the blonde to go and sleep in her own room. She doesn't want to be alone. She grabs onto Quinn's arm, her eyes silently pleading for her to stay. Luckily, Quinn gets the hint and she sits back down on the couch, which causes Santana to relax. She opens her arms and smiles to herself when the Latina shuffles into them before closing her eyes.
The next time Santana wakes up, it's to hushed voices and she knows that she and Quinn are no longer the only two in the room. Opening her eyes slowly, she finds Puck, Kurt and Rachel all staring at her and she turns her head, burying herself into Quinn's body so that she doesn't have to look at them. Quinn's arms tighten around her body and she relaxes into the touch, and a few seconds later, she feels someone begin to run their fingers gently through her hair. She knows it's Puck, and the feeling of guilt the she had forgotten about for the few hours that she was asleep for, suddenly come flooding back. She doesn't even want to think about the hell she's put him through.
"Thank god you're okay!" Puck mumbles in relief as she presses a kiss to the head of brown hair in front of him. "I've been so worried about you Santana, please promise me that it's never going to happen again." He practically begs, his voice growing thick with emotion. "Please tell me that you're finally going to get some help?"
Santana still can't find the words to speak, but she turns to look at Puck and she instantly regrets it. He's crouched down beside her with unshed tears threatening to fall from his eyes. Reaching out, she grabs his hand in her own and squeezes it softly as a way of telling him that this is never going to happen again. She's never been one to make promises in case she can't keep them, but she knows that despite it being extremely difficult, she will be able to keep this one. She has to. This experience is taught her that she has too much to lose.
Her life is precious and she nearly ended it by being so reckless. It's now time to pick up the pieces and fix it she doesn't know how long it will take, but she's going to do it, no matter how hard it is. She's determined to.
"I'll do whatever it takes to get better." Santana announces weakly, finally breaking her silence. "I'm going to get help Puck, I promise you."
/
When Santana told her friends that she was going to get help, she thought that she would find herself at one of those alcohol awareness classes where she could share her story with other people like her. She kind of liked that idea because she believed that no one there would judge her since they were all pretty much there for the same reason, and so it would be easier to admit and talk about her problem. However, she did not expect Quinn to take matters into her own hands ad book her an appointment with a clinical psychologist a week after the incident had occurred. If she was honest with herself, she hated the idea of talking to a psychologist because it made her sound as if she was some kind of crazy person. She wasn't crazy. She was just sad and lonely, and solved these problems by drinking way too much alcohol. In her opinion, it was nothing more than that. She didn't have to see a psychologist for something so small.
As she walked up to the desk at reception with Quinn on her left and Kurt on her right, she could feel her stomach begin to tie itself in knots. She was nervous because in the next few minutes a complete stranger was going to hear about her life and judge her for it. Even though Kurt had promised her that the psychologist wasn't going to judge her, Santana knew that after they heard about the mess that she calls her life, they wouldn't be able to help themselves. Stopping in front of the desk, the three of them wait patiently for the receptionist to get off the phone. Santana glances at the receptionist and as her gaze travels to the woman's name badge, she almost bursts into a fit of laughter. The badge reads the name: "Sugar" and Santana is convinced that Sugar can't be the receptionist's name because it's so ridiculous.
"Hello there, my friend Santana Lopez has an appointment at seven o'clock with Doctor Rose." Quinn says politely, snapping Santana out of her own thoughts. Even though she won't admit it to either of them, she's glad that Quinn and Kurt are here for support because she would hate to have to go through all of this on her own. "It's her first appointment and when I spoke to Doctor Rose on the phone last week, she said that the session would be free as all they would be doing is filling out the necessary paperwork and talking about what the other sessions would consist of."
"Doctor Rose is currently unavailable as she had to go home due to an unexpected family issue." Sugar the receptionist smiles apologetically before glancing back at her computer screen and typing a few things. "However, our child psychologist is just finishing her last appointment and as Santana's first appointment is only a consultation and paperwork, she is more than qualified to do so and would be more than happy to take Santana's session. That is, of course, if you are comfortable with that arrangement? If not, you can reschedule your appointment with Doctor Rose for next week."
Santana thinks that luck must be on her side today because the information that Sugar has just given her means that she can postpone meeting Doctor Rose for another week. She's just about to open her mouth and tell the receptionist to reschedule her appointment, but before she can, Kurt speaks up.
"We would like to see your child psychologist if that's possible."
As Sugar signs them in and they go and take their seats in the waiting area, Santana secretly glares at Kurt for forcing her to stay and meet another psychologist. She doesn't even want to meet Doctor Rose, so why in her right mind would she want to meet a psychologist who specialises in helping with children? The last time she checked, she wasn't a child and so she doubted that this psychologist would be able to help her out.
"Do you want us to come into the office with you or stay outside?" Quinn asks, trying to make conversation whilst they're waiting. "We're here to support you, Santana, but we'll understand if you want to go in alone."
"You can come in if you want, I don't care." Santana shrugs her shoulders in response because she doesn't know the answer to the question. She wants Quinn and Kurt in the room with her, but she doesn't think that having them there is what is best for her. Her problem is one that she has to fight on her own. Sure she can get support from other people, but ultimately she's the one that has to deal with it.
"Come on, Santana don't start getting defensive now." Quinn sighs, knowing that if Santana is like this during her sessions then the psychologist is going to have a difficult time. "Everyone here is to help and support you, you need to remember that."
Santana rolls her eyes in response and casts her gaze down onto the floor. She knows that Quinn is right, but she isn't going to admit it. The three of them fall back into silence and Santana wishes that the child psychologist would hurry up and get here because she wants this to be over with as soon as possible. It's not that she wants to rush through recovery, she understands that it takes a lot of time and it's not easy. She just doesn't want to be sitting in the waiting area for a psychologist. She doesn't want the other people who are waiting or those that work there to think that she has a problem, because she doesn't. Well, she does, but it's not one that she needs to go a see a psychologist for. She'd leave if it weren't for the fact that Quinn and Puck begged her to try this out. She still doesn't understand why they were so adamant that she did, but she doesn't want to disappoint them more so than she already has.
The sound of a door opening causes Santana to snap her head up and when she does, she spots a woman walking towards the receptionist's desk with her face buried in a folder. She has her back to Santana so she can't see much of her, but she watches as the woman leans against the desk and speaks to Sugar. The woman is quite tall and is wearing a pair of black trousers and a cream and brown coloured jumper, with her long blonde hair tied up in a ponytail. Santana guesses that the woman and Sugar must be friends because a few seconds later, the receptionist begins to laugh as she stands up from her seat and comes out from behind her desk.
Santana's heartbeat begins to increase when Sugar starts to walk over to her and the realisation hits her that the blonde woman must be the child psychologist. She mentally curses herself for wishing for the woman to hurry up because she feels as if she isn't ready for this. Santana glances at the blonde woman who is walking beside Sugar, but she can't see what she looks like because she's still too busy reading something in her folder that she's carrying, which causes her to slow down her pace. She's curious to see what she looks like, even though she doesn't want to talk to her.
"Miss Lopez?" Sugar announces and Santana stands up, taking a step forwards towards the receptionist, her eyes never leaving the blonde woman behind her. "This is..." Sugar's voice fades out of focus as Santana continues to watch as the blonde woman.
It's as if everything is happening in slow motion. She watches as the folder is slowly lowered down from the psychologist's face and when it's gone, Santana thinks she's about to have a heart attack.
This can't be happening.
Someone must be playing a cruel joke on her.
There's no way that this is happening.
"Brittany?"
/
I uploaded this a year ago under a different title, but unfortunately never went anywhere with it. I recently looked back on it though and built upon it and have began writing the next updates for it.
Let me know what you all think!
I have the next update for this already written, so if I get feedback from people saying that they like it then it will be posted fairly quickly.