AN: This is my first story for a while, and I'm a bit rusty. I don't have much time for writing but if its liked then I'll keep it up! This is a pretty dark chapter at the moment but there will be plenty of light and fun in future chapters.

Warning: Rated M throughout the story for sex scenes, language and some violent descriptions. If you're offended by any of these elements probably best to give this a miss.

Chapter 1 – Skin Deep

Soft, dark eyelashes dipped low onto her caramel cheekbones, aching to flutter still again like resting butterflies, even just for a moment. She felt an unrelenting pressure knocking against her skull; a solid and expansive band of pain located over her brow and just above her closed eyelids. As she reached slender fingers up onto her temples and massaged the throbbing just below the surface, the slow rush of blood in her ears became louder.

She sat up in bed and looked up at the open slants of her blinds creating crooked shadows on her bedroom wall. She found herself searching her memory – what had happened, how was she here? Snapshots of the night before flooded back, but not enough to make sense of the time, her location, the situation. She fought back the invasion of the feeling of filth stealing slowly through her veins like poison, and wrestled a sudden urge to vomit. This was typical, this was usual and she was damn certain her feelings would numb as the day went on. Searching her recollections from the night before hurt her head even more, so she stopped. It didn't really matter anyway, she was pretty sure exactly the same events happened every time she left the house late at night and returned early in the morning.

Gingerly, she eased her tender body upwards and stretched her long, thin arms through the waves of her dark hair, and tied it up roughly. She padded to the bathroom, feeling the heaviness of her muscles in their movement, and a distinct lack of coordination. There wasn't a sign of her using the bathroom the previous night, and a stolen look into the mirror above the sink betrayed the signs of smudged eye makeup and heavy, burdened eyelids. Her lips were dry.

She looked at herself again, long and hard this time, and her emotions hardened as they always did. She splashed her face with water and it felt as cold as she felt inside; rivulets of water falling on perfect skin where she knew there should be tears. What the fuck did she have to feel guilty about? Why did she even need to feel anything about anything? Feelings were useless, feelings were fake, feelings opened too much up and closed nothing until all that was left was a gaping hole.

She was late, really late. She didn't care but her mother would and if the school phoned her mother, it was a week of hell not worth experiencing. She turned the shower onto scorching hot and rushed to get ready, which in its effort made her stomach churn. She was out of the door in 20 minutes, a last glance towards the mirror confirmed her suspicions that even with the hangover from hell, she was probably still the hottest girl in LA.

"Santana Lopez," a stern voice reprimanded, "you're late… again." Santana cringed, that voice was just so damn loud.

"Sorry Miss Sylvester," her chocolate eyes lit up in mockery as she replied forcefully, "I had a family emergency."

"Oh I'm sure you did sweet-cheeks," Sue Sylvester replied with tenacity, drawing breath through a lop-sided smile. "I'm sure those highly noticeable love balloons just exploded all over that pretty little face of yours." Santana felt her heart jolt in her chest as her hand immediately touched her nose. She sniffed hard. "Or maybe you're just trying to powder away whatever ethnicity it is that you are. Anyway, whatever reason, it's no excuse to be late to my illuminating grammar lesson. Take a seat."

Santana felt the wild knocking against her ribcage abate slightly as she realized no more fuss would be made of her indiscretion. Trust Sue not to care. She stared smugly at her friends and partners in crime, Sebastian and Karofsky, who sat at the desks behind her. Sebastian squinted his eyes at her and grinned slyly in mock contempt and Karofsky looked as tired as she felt.

She glanced up at the whiteboard at the front of the classroom. Written were the words 'Copy and repeat:'

'Sue Sylvester is hideously charming

Sue Sylvester was hideously charming

Sue Sylvester will always be hideously charming

Sue Sylvester is the most charming teacher in the school'

Typical grammar lesson with Sue Sylvester. Sebastian leaned in towards her and whispered, "I feel like shit. This is even worse than when I dreamt I made out with Sue." His face crinkled with disgust. "Although now I think of it, her testosterone levels from those shots she gets are probably higher than some of the guys I've dated. You look surprisingly hot Lopez, despite that little powder incident."

"Yeah well Sebastian, it's pretty easy to look this smoking when your head isn't in the shape of a triangle... but my insides do feel as twisted as yours probably did the first time you had pale trembling teen gay sex. At least I don't look as shit as Karofsky." Sebastian smirked. His sense of humour more than rivaled hers. They glanced to the side at the larger boy whose hands simply covered as much of his face as he could manage.

"Eugh, you have no idea," came the muffled response.

Santana played with her pen and leaned over at Sebastian. "Listen skinny queer. What happened last night?"

Sebastian laughed softly, "How the fuck should I know? I was just as off my face as you were Leztino. The last thing I remember about you is you practically eating some girl's face."

Santana grimaced, she knew in all likelihood what that meant.

"Don't worry, you and I went home together," Sebastian continued. "Not quite the kind of homo you were hoping to take home I'm sure. We took a taxi to yours, I dropped you at your house and walked back to mine. It seemed like a good idea at the time."

Santana laughed, "The whole night seemed like a good idea at the time."

"Always," Sebastian winked. Karofsky moaned into his hands.

Santana slowly climbed the three steps leading to her front door; she was tired. It had been a long day battling against a headache to kill and even more depressing classes, despite missing the first one and a half. The walk home had been hard and she ached. The ache seemed to be imbedded so deep within her that she wondered where it began; if it was from inside her head, where every part of her brain pushed forth memories, images, shames; or from her heart, where every beat of blood brought into conflict seemingly lost longings, desires, hurts. She realized she hadn't thought about her heart in a long time, not that she was sure she'd ever known what it was there for in the first place. Why think about love when like was so much easier? If she was being honest, like was hard enough.

She turned her key in the lock, and opened the door. The house was large, well decorated and modern, and walking through it every day never failed to remind her of how privileged her upbringing had been, even when the walls could not be further from the illicit nighttime dwellings where she chose to spend most of her time. She wished she could feel calm there.

The door to the kitchen was ajar, and she poked her head around the edge, spotting the warm face of her mother. She smiled, "Hey Mama."

Mrs Lopez smiled up at her, and the furrow in her brow that normally appeared when Santana was around was ever present, if slightly deeper than usual. Her hands were clasped around a hot mug of coffee, and its steam rose towards the ceiling as Santana began to leave the room and head to her bedroom.

"Santana, honey, wait," Mrs Lopez said softly, her downcast eyes moving up to study Santana's face. Santana paused, searching her mother's face, still holding the edge of the door and waited.

"We need to talk baby," Mrs Lopez continued, "come and sit down."

Santana knew her face betrayed her concern. "What's wrong Mama? Is dad okay?"

"Yes querida, your father is fine," she replied, her voice catching in her throat. Santana felt something tight inside her relax slightly. Mrs Lopez continued, "We need to talk about you my darling."

Santana felt almost a physical force move her, a force not unlike the pull of a large, unyielding mass gravitating on the streets outside, or the push of her magnetic north against her mother's south. She closed her eyes. When she opened them, her mother's were bearing down into hers, and she knew protesting was futile. She stayed silent; words escaping her, if any existed that could give meaning to the emptiness she felt.

"Santana, I have been a bad mother." Mrs Lopez whispered, her trembling hands clasping her mug as she spoke. Santana's eyes flashed as she began to protest.

Mrs Lopez raised her hand quickly. "Listen carina, let me talk… please." Her eyes pleaded Santana into submission. She continued, her softened Mexican accent failing to hide the emotional sting in her words. "I have been a bad mother, I have let this happen to you. When you creep home at night, we pretend something is happening that isn't happening honey." Her voice cracked as she spoke.

"I'm not sure what we're pretending anymore Santana – I have been trying to tell myself a mixture of things. Sometimes, that this all isn't happening. And when I can't ignore what's happening, I try to pretend that this is something you need to do, I try and put myself in your shoes as I have been doing every night for the last year and tell myself that this is important to you and that this should be helping. I've been wrong."

Santana felt herself falling, her stomach knotted and twisted as she fought to keep the plague of images entering her mind, reeling herself backwards through them without looking, trying to keep each snapshot black and blurry and to find the present moment among them. She held her head in her hand. "Mama, please, you're not wrong…"

"Your father and I talked about this for a long time last night," her mother continued, "and we know this can't go on anymore. You have to stop running Santana. And I know you don't know how to do that. Neither do I, but I'm your mother and I have to help you try." Santana's panic-stricken face pleaded with her to stop, to be silent, to stop with the one subject she just could not bear touched.

She paused, "Honey, I know about the drinking, and the drugs. It doesn't matter to me what you've done. And I know how vulnerable you've made yourself to other people…" She reached her hand out to place upon Santana's.

Santana flinched and tore her hand away, standing angrily. She couldn't believe what was happening, she felt raw and naked and more vulnerable than ever. She felt her expression, angry and hard. "Mama, I am fine, I am trying, I am okay with this right now…"

"Sit down baby," her mother replied. "You're not okay. Your father and I, we've talked about this. We've found someone to help you, help you out of this spiral. It's someone your aunt knows through her work with social services."

Santana felt her eyes widen as she cried in anger, "A shrink Mama? I don't need a fucking shrink!"

"Honey, it's a programme," Mrs Lopez spoke softly, a trace of uncertainty. "I know you're not gonna like this – but we've enrolled you already. We won't change our minds Santana, not when your welfare is at stake here. It won't be as bad as you think, I know it's gonna be good for you in the long run, it just hurts a little bit now honey. You'll stay with one of the best psychiatrists in this line of work. She lives in Montana, and she has a programme there for teenagers. It's meant to be a place you can heal Santana, find your feet again, find yourself again."

As the realization of her mother's words hit her, Santana felt horror replace her anger.

"I'm sorry Santana, I don't have a choice here either, this is something I should have done a long time ago," her mother said softly.

She gazed at her mother, overwhelmed by hopelessness and fear. "Mom…" her voice shook as she questioned. Her mother closed the gap between them, and just held her in her arms.

Her gaze tracked slowly along the window, watching and observing how the slight tilt of the pane as it met the seal skewed the angle of the glass and distorted the image of the road as it sped by below her. She arched her long, slender neck to look at the sky, a perfect azure peppered with clusters and stretches of clouds. She concentrated, searching for an image in them, her eyes scrutinizing their contours, but found nothing. Her father was driving, but he made quiet conversation with her mother in the passenger seat. Santana rested her head on the side of the car, and closed her eyes.

When she awoke, the dusty road had been replaced by a horizon filled with sun-drenched hills and swollen expanses of long grass that from a distance almost seemed like a solid block of colour were it not for the slow rippling of the blades. As the sun descended behind the hills leaving behind just a shock of inflamed sky, the undulating grasses mirrored a glint of silver light in harmony. Santana imagined the breeze that glided over those blades, and sighed. She had always considered herself a city girl through and through, but something about the scene caught her breath and drew her in.

"Santana, we're nearly there," her father spoke softly as he glanced back at her.

"Okay Papa," she replied, a sense of foreboding entering her once again.

He drew the car to a stop outside a large collection of traditional ranch buildings nestled between two rising peaks, and framed by a seemingly eternal stretch of land. She vowed to put on a brave face for her parents, but part of her longed for her to stay. Her father opened the boot, and carried out her suitcase.

"Shall we go inside?" he asked, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Yeah, I guess," Santana replied. She could feel the heat of her mother's gaze on her back.

As she turned to find her way inside, a distant figure on the horizon caught her glance. She squinted as she tried to form a clearer picture. A woman, a young woman she was guessing, rode on horseback midway up along the plains. Santana contemplated the figure, and as she tried to tear her eyes away, the horse and rider increased their speed and became smaller and smaller into the distance. A small fleck of excitement simmered inside her chest, the first, she realized, she had felt in some time.

Santana looked up at her mother, and took the first step inside.

I hope you enjoyed! Please review if you liked it and this will keep going! This chapter's a little short so the next will be a bit more to get your teeth into, with of course, the introduction of the beautiful blonde ;)