Author's note: AU Pezberry. New re-edited chapter one, so it's better to reread because there are a few added things in here.
Summary: Santana Lopez has just been kicked out of her house with almost nothing to her name, and having moved to a new city, she has no one to turn to. This unfortunately is only the start of a very shitty night, but does it have to end that way?
Warnings/Spoilers: Cursing scattered about, angst, a scuffle, annnd... a little blood. Also, not beta, so all mistakes are mine. No spoilers, since this is AU, there are only a couple things canon between this Santana and Glee Santana.
Disclaimer: Nope, not mine, but it is definitely a fun playground to get... dirty in. I do own this story, and I hope you enjoy part one. :D
Santana
I pause in the doorway, eyes burning with unshed tears as they look dreadfully outside to the cold, foggy air. I try swallowing past the big ass lump that is lodged uncomfortably in my throat, but it's useless because every second I stand here, it thickens to where my throat is constricting, making me feel like I am about to choke. My head, heavy with a weight I shouldn't have to carry, turns to the left, hoping that one last plead will change his mind. "Papi-"
"Don't you dare call me that, you lost that right as soon as you chose this, this… abhorrent lifestyle over your own father! You are no daughter of mine." His cruel words, sharp and cutting, stops my begging short and rips the sob from my throat that I have been holding back for the last several heart wrenching minutes.
I clench my jaw to keep any more from escaping, and force myself out the front door with only a duffel bag, clutched protectively against me, in my possession. I flinch when the door slams shut behind me, and as the lock clicks in place, the sound signals a finality that has my heart shattering into a million pieces, every last one of them landing on the welcome mat beneath my feet.
My mind shuts down as I stiffly move away from my heart, and the place that was supposed to become home. The man I have known my whole life as my father, my papi, just tossed my ass out in the freezing weather with nothing more than a bag full of clothes. We moved to New York two weeks ago, Dad had gotten a job promotion at the law firm he had been working at for 10 years, and a change of location.
I of course, had no problem moving from Los Angeles to New York, there was nothing going for me there anymore anyway.
Graduated, no job, friends who I discovered were not true friends…
An ex girlfriend who cheated on me with who I thought was one of my best friends.
The move couldn't have come at a better time, it was the chance for me to start over, or so I thought. It was going great, Dad loved that I wanted to come with him, even though I had already turned 18 and was free to do anything or go anywhere, so he moved us into a 3-bedroom apartment in one of the nicest buildings ever to grace my eyesight.
We had always been close, especially when my mother became sick after a simple surgery, and then passed away after getting a fatal Staph infection. Things were hard, morose even, but we kept each other sane and we took care of one another, as a family should. That was three years ago, and ever since then, our father daughter bond has grown stronger, that is until I finally decided to tell him that I am gay.
He has always been so damn supportive of everything, and after all that had happened to me with my ex girlfriend, Brittany, I thought it was high time I came clean.
I needed my father more than ever, but apparently being gay crossed a line, and his unconditional love became conditional. He metaphorically kicked me why I was already down, kicking me out of our new house that resides in a new, unfamiliar city.
I have no one to turn to, and nowhere to go.
I don't know how long I've been walking, though it feels like I have been out here for hours, the freezing air and biting wind slicing through the warmest clothes I could throw on in a hurry. I have no gloves, and only the hoodie that I'm wearing to keep my ears from icing over, luckily, my favorite combat boots are enough to warm my feet. However, I am already tired, and my face is pretty much frozen over by now.
I stop and look around at my surroundings, eyes taking everything in carefully, so that I at least don't wonder off somewhere completely unknown.
I recognize where I have unconsciously walked, and know that there is a diner a block from where I stand. Not wanting or needing to stay here and let hypothermia settle in, I head that way, tears having long since stopped and icicled on my cheeks.
When I walk in, the heat is on full blast and it feels cozy. Only two other customers are here, a middle aged, balding man drinking a large cup of coffee at the bar, and a tiny, old oriental lady sitting by herself at one of the tables, sipping on a bowl of steaming soup.
I sigh and take a seat a few down from baldy, setting my duffel on the seat beside me so I can keep an eye on it.
"Good afternoon, honey, what can I get you?" A tall, burly man, who I have come to know as 'Bear', greets me while pouring me a fresh cup of hot coffee.
It's not until he looks up at me that he gasps and notices how shitty I must look right now.
"Potato soup and the largest chunk of brownie you have." I ignore the worried look he is giving me, telling him my order instead.
I don't have enough money on me to get a room; however, I can let myself indulge in sustenance, knowing that I will need the energy to get me through the night.
Instantly sensing that I am closed off and unsure how to proceed other than to get me something to eat, he says nothing, only nodding and moving away.
I rub my hands together, attempting to warm them up, but they are stiff, frozen, and trembling, so I focus on fixing up my coffee, and then pick up the mug, palming it in my hands for immediate heat. The cup is too hot though, only serving to burn and irritate my hands further.
"Here you are, almost hot soup, and a large chunk of soft, warm brownie." Bear reappears 10 minutes later, setting my food down in front of me with a wink, probably trying to cheer me up. The corner of my mouth twitches, but I otherwise do not react, not having it in me to even try.
"I let the soup cool off a little because it's better to drink or eat something warm when you're that cold." He sighs, deflating at my lack of reaction, and explains why the soup is 'almost hot.'
I nod; it is all I can do because if I try to talk now, I know the tears will come, and that they will not stop anytime soon.
"Santan-"
"Thank you." I cut him off, mumbling my thanks to stop him from questioning me.
He sighs again, this time biting his lip, before nodding, again, and leaving me alone.
I savor every bite and sip, letting it warm and fill my belly slowly. My mind can't help but go back to what happened, and several times I have to fight back the tears threatening to spill over and drown me, a few escape the fight, though I manage not to break down. I will save that for when I am alone.
I do not need strangers Pitying, judging, and pointing at me like I'm some sideshow freak.
"Hey, honey, I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but we're shutting down for the night. That sexy weather man, Blaine Anderson, he forecasted high winds and a severe storm." Bear knocks me out of my thoughts, hinting at me to get out of here and covering it with a soft voice. In a voice that is still concerned for my well-being.
"Thanks, Bear, I-I appreciate the food, it was good as always. Um, I'm just gonna…go." I thank him again, throw some bills on the counter, and then hurry out before he can say anything.
The cold hits me like a slap to the face, and I curl into myself the best that I can before walking away from the only place of warmth I will have tonight. It has gotten dark, and I don't know where to go now, I have no new friends and a cell phone that will undoubtedly be turned off within the next day or so.
Not that I could call anyone, I have no one here other than my papi, and now I don't even have him. I stop again, needing to think on where to go next, eyes once again searching out. My shoulders slump though, when I realize that there is nowhere to go, at least nowhere inside.
Chin trembling, I lean against the building that I am beside for support, knowing that the tears may not stop this time around.
"Don't. Move." A deep voice behind me growls in my ear, and I feel something cold press against my neck, making me gasp and tense up instantly.
My heart bangs inside my chest, fear coiling within me and spreading to every part of my body, I am now suddenly colder than before. I stand, frozen on spot aside from shaking, waiting for him to do something. I don't have to wait long, the black duffel bag is jerked out of my hand, and I hear it thunk into the alleyway behind my captive.
"Good girl, now slowly put your hands behind your head." He gruffs out, his breath reeking of booze assaulting my nose and making me gag.
The cold object moves from my neck, only to slide lower to the middle of my back, the sharp point of a knife roughly digging into my skin on the way down. Afraid for my life, I do as he says, interlocking my hands behind my head. He chuckles smugly, and before I can react, has me whipped around to face him.
Breathing harshly now, I close my eyes, preparing to meet my end.
"You are way too pretty to be out here alone, in the dark, and in this kind of weather. But, I guess it is lucky for me that you're out here. Empty your pockets." His alcohol-laden words husk in my face, voice deceivingly soft while he plays along my throat with the tip of his knife.
Hoping that he will let me go after he robs me of everything I own, I open my eyes to memorize his face, but he is wearing a ski mask, effectively covering his identity. Glaring, I shakily take out my money clip, cell phone, and the loose change from all my pockets, his free hand follows, patting me down incase I'm withholding anything.
When he is satisfied, his dark eyes fall on the stuff in my hands, then pressing the knife hard against my skin he takes everything.
All goes in his own pockets bar the money clip, in which he holds out,
"Take your license out, leave the rest."
Confused but willing, I do just that, taking and pocketing proof of my own identity.
"Up against the wall." He shoves me none too gently, and I hiss out as my face scrapes against the brick and tears into my cold skin.
"Battle scars. Here is another, it will be a perfect cut to remember me by." He laughs at me, no regret in his tone whatsoever.
Bastard is taking pleasure in taunting me.
Another burst of fear strikes me, this monster hasn't done enough, no, he has to mark me permanently as well. This time I try to squirm away, elbows and feet attempting to hit their target in the process, but he just chuckles more and presses his heavy body into mine, trapping my limbs from hitting him.
"Now, now, none of that. I'm not going to kill you, pretty lady, I just wanted to play." His hand, large and ghost white, covers my mouth.
He is probably sensing that I am about to scream.
"Stay still; this will only hurt for a moment." The knife slides against my neck again, making me go rigid.
My breathing is out of control, and fat tears are rushing down my face to land on his meaty hand. The sharp blade quickly slashes right to left, and I scream at the equally sharp pain, only for it to be muffled by his palm with no chance of me being overheard. His weight, once constricting, is suddenly gone, and I don't hesitate to cover the slice in my neck to stop the bleeding. It hurts like a motherfucker, and it is definitely bleeding, but whether the wound is life threatening or not has yet to be determined.
When I don't hear anything but my own whimpers, I turn slowly around, to find that he isn't anywhere in sight. I relax only a second, not affording myself the feeling of being free and alive for long, the wind has picked up and it is now drizzling. I have to get out of here to find somewhere safe and warm.
Some place I can get help before I end up bleeding out in the deserted street.
Holding my sleeve to the cut, I wobble away from the wall, legs stiff and body hard to move. I force through it though, walking at a steady pace, and passing more closed buildings and shops along the way. I don't even know what time it is, but it has to be around eight or later, either way I am so tired and weak that I don't know how much longer I will last out here. Everything is down for the night, and the hospital isn't really within walking distance, not with the state I'm in anyway.
I would have to hitchhike a ride.
The closest things nearby are very little houses, condos and apartments, warm, cozy homes full of people. I hurry my pace, determined to knock on the door of the first one I come across. As soon as I walk up to the first one, the hell gates open, and hard, the cold rain pelting me relentlessly.
There is little traffic, and the only light is the street lamp. However, I am so desperate to get out of the rain, and in somewhere safe, that I decide right here and now that I will break in for my own safety. Thankfully, it appears to be an actual house placed on the corner lot.
If someone is home, which, thankfully it looks like there isn't at this point, I hope that they are merciful.
Drenched, shivering, and clutching onto the bleeding slit across my neck, I jog to the back while keeping an eye out for lurking neighbors; luckily, there are none. I try the back sliding door first, and when it gives without resistance, I send a thank you to the heavens right before easing inside.
It's almost as dark in here than it is outside, but the heat is on, and the house for some reason feels instantly…safe. I gently shut the sliding door, then tiptoe around what appears to be a sun-room, and once I reach the doorway, I peek out, seeing nothing but more darkness.
Why is it so damn dark in here?
This is not safe to come home to at all, I mean, there could be an intruder waiting in the shadows for God's sake!
Well, someone more intrudery than me anyway.
A door opening and closing somewhere else in the house has me freezing up, and my eyes going insanely wide.
"Why is it so damn dark in here?" A female voice questions my same query a room over.
A room that I am assuming is the foyer, where the front door is.
"Hey, don't look at me; you were the last one out the door. It's probably the weather." Another feminine voice answers, and I can just picture the accompanied shrug.
"No, look, the light wor-"
"SURPRISE!"
"AHHH!"
I startle, much like the first girl, (minus the scream) when a group of people scream out a united SURPRISE to her.
With a still trembling hand to my chest, I lean against the wall to calm both my heart and nerves.
"Oh my God! You guys! Are you trying to give me a heart attack? Jesus!" Wow, this woman sounds pretty worked up, and maybe a little dramatic…
I should get the hell out of here while I can. Except, there is no way I can go back out there in that mess, especially when I'm still slowly but surely bleeding out. Shit, my hand is covered in red. What to do, what to do… Shit! This is so not cool, how am I supposed to explain this? I need to, to, to what? A bathroom. I need a bathroom.
Taking a deep breath, I lift off the wall, and then tiptoe in the opposite direction the voices are coming from, peeking in open doors as I go. A library, and two bedrooms later, I run across stairs, so after a look around to make sure no one is near, I slowly take the steps one by one. On the sixth step, it squeaks under my weight, and I wince, hoping the party-goers didn't hear it over their conversations.
I make it to the top, but have to stop to catch my breath. It should be illegal to have that long of a staircase. As I glance to the left and right, my brows furrow, there is only one door on each side. Shrugging it off, I instinctually head for the left and crack open the first door. The room is dark, though a bedside lamp is on low; giving me enough light to make out that this bedroom is definitely a girl's space.
It is not girly by any means, but the walls and bedding are not guy colors.
That is unless said guy happens to be gay… Either way, I enter the room, shutting the door softly behind me. I breathe a sigh of relief when I spot another open door, one undoubtedly leading to the adjoining bathroom. I am two steps forward when a whine pierces the quiet room, my heart freezes, along with my feet.
A black head pops up from its previously unknown spot on the bed, and my brief reprieve turns into abrupt panic.
Copper orbs lock onto my own undoubtedly dilated eyes, and long, astute ears perk up. With another whine, the potential threat stands on all fours, and I bite my tongue to keep from uttering a sound, fearful that any noise might trigger him to attack. I am feeling weaker by the second, and I'm afraid if I don't get to a first aid kit fast I will fall to my doom right here, but I don't dare take my eyes away from him.
He barks, once, it is loud, booming almost, and turns into a miniature howl.
My breathing picks up in fear, which really is not helping me any because my breath has been ragged and coming out in deep, short bursts already. The black beast moves, stepping off the bed in one swift movement, I tense in anticipation, waiting to see what he is going to do.
I really don't want to be here to find out, though it's not like I have much of a choice, either I move and he charges, or I stay and he jumps me. Maybe he is friendly, maybe he just wants to sniff me out to see if I am threat, or maybe he just wants to torture me before I become food.
He does neither.
I watch as he plops his butt down just feet from where I stand, and then my eyes screw shut as a major bout of nausea sweeps over me.
I waste no more time in going to the bathroom, too hurt and terrified for my own health to worry about the huge dog whining in the other room. I close the door, flip the light switch on, and then walk over to the wall mirror above the sink. Yet another whimper falls from my lips as my face is revealed to me for the first time in hours.
I am pale under the raw scratches along my nose, forehead, and chin.
My lips are tinted blue.
My hand, despite the heavy down pour outside, is still coated in blood, and the red liquid is running down my neck to right under my hoodie. Seeing it causes everything to catch up to me, and I have to cover my mouth to stifle the oncoming cries of anguish.
I bite the side of my hand to keep from being too loud, but the pain, both physical and emotional is too much, and I jerk it away to slam my fist down on the counter. Everything hurts, my clothes are soaked, and I am still cold as ice despite the heat trying to warm my body up.
I need a Band-Aid, or maybe even some stitches, a hot shower, and I need sleep.
I start with the first thing, my now bruising hand searching through cabinets to find something usable, thankfully it doesn't take long to find a first aid kit, I set it on the organized counter in front of me, and start sifting through it to gather what I need.
Lightheaded and feeling weaker by the minute, I slowly lift my bloody hand from my throat, only for the red liquid to gush out of the cut and trail down already drying blood tracks. Eyes growing wide, I quickly apply pressure to it to stop the bleeding, but the wound is deeper than I had first thought, and I don't know what to do now.
This is something that I cannot do on my own, I need help, and I need it now before I pass out from blood loss, or from anything else for that matter. I do know that I do not have the energy to go back downstairs. I would more than likely collapse and end up breaking my neck on the way down, so that is definitely out.
Starting to panic, I stumble out with stiff legs, and make my way back towards the stairs.
My body feels so heavy, and I know if I don't get help soon that I will lose consciousness, and there is no telling how long I would be up here before someone notices me, and by then I might be dead. Head fuzzy around the edges, I stand at the top of the stairs and lean against the wall, thinking on what the hell to do next.
Drooping eyes gaze around for an answer, until they fall on an end table holding a vase of beautiful yellow roses, then without much thought involved, chilled, quavering fingers take hold of the vase and let it go almost immediately.
I watch it hurdle down the stairs, water sloshing out as the roses fly every which way before the blue vase hits the bottom and shatters into chunks of broken color. The music pumping from the living room stops abruptly and all goes quiet.
I can picture everyone looking at each other and then to the doorway, where they had heard the loud noise break through their partying. Finally, after moments of tense waiting, multiple footsteps thud this way, and I grasp onto the wall again as my knees threaten to buckle out from under me. Light flickering on just about blinds me, but I blink the sudden brightness away, and the first thing I see cutting around the corner is a head of long brunette hair, followed by a little body in a sexy red dress.
The girl spots the broken clay, and she studies it for a few brief moments before lifting her head to look up the stairs, effectively causing me to fidget nervously as her eyes find and then lock onto my disheveled form. I would say that the breath was just knocked out of me by how gorgeous this woman is..
If it were not for the fact of me having lost most of my breath a while ago.
Her body goes rigid once she realizes that she is looking at an unknown person residing in her home, and then her right arm is lifting toward me and I am now staring down the barrel of a gun. Another girl hesitantly peeks around the corner, this one a few inches taller with short blonde hair.
She looks to the brunette first, eyes taking in her tense posture and the gun pointed at the ready. Her head follows the direction it is aimed in and then striking hazels that I can see from here land on me and go wide. She immediately straightens into a guarded stance, not looking an ounce afraid of me.
"Who the hell are you, and why the hell are you in my house?" The short brunette girl speaks up, her tone hard and questioning, after apparently having had enough silence.
I lick my dry lips and try to swallow with an equally as dry throat in an attempt to prepare myself for speaking, but it irritates the cut and makes me wince instead.
"Hey, she asked you a question, so answer it before I come up there and-"
"I-I needed t-to get out of t-the storm." I finally manage to stammer out an answer, cutting the blonde off between chattering teeth.
"So, you break into my home and start throwing my things around?" The girl with the gun questions me disbelievingly.
The other one arches a perfect eyebrow.
Tears sting my eyes as they grow heavier, and I nod at them, not being able to say anything else as my exhausted body melds against the wall.
"Great. Well, come down here then, instead of standing up there like a coward." She sighs and the gun lowers, though I can tell that her arm is tense and ready to re-aim if needed.
I take a deep shuddery breath and shake my head no, "I can't"
With my head spinning, I feel like I am about to lose it, and the last thing I see before my world delves into total darkness is a scowl on the hobbit like creature staring me down.
Jolting up with a start, my eyes snap open and frantically dart around, while my chest heaves for breath.
"Whoa, easy, you're okay." A soft voice coos beside me, and an equally soft hand comes to rest on my shoulder. On bare skin.
My breath hitches and then rushes out before picking up rapidly.
"Hey, look at me." The voice urges gently, and I can't help but obey." There you go, now breathe through your nose then let it out slowly." I stare into kind green eyes and the hand on my shoulder slides down my back, rubbing over it in soothing patterns as I breathe deeply in and out.
"You're doing well, just give me a few more, and then you can lie back down." She helps me along in the panic attack brought on by, well, whatever the fuck brought it on.
I can only comply, something in her gaze and comforting caresses easing everything tense inside of me. When I have satisfied her, she gently pushes me to lay back into the pillows, and tucks me snugly in, which makes me just now realize that I have been shivering ever since waking up.
Light footsteps padding in the room alerts me, and I look over to the doorway, where the spitting image of the woman sitting beside me is headed our way, with the blonde trailing behind her. They both seem to perk up when they see me awake, and the brunette quickens her stride until her ass is plopped down on the other side of me.
Before she can say or do anything though, a familiar black beauty pads after her, sitting loyally at the woman's feet. His eyes drift over me as he whines softly, making the unnamed girl beside me look down at him curiously. She rubs over his ears, an attempt at comforting him, one that doesn't seem to be working.
He shifts closer, his head inching toward me until a cold snout nudges my arm.
"It seems as if he is worried about you, which, to be honest, is a bit rare. He is usually a little more reserved and wary, protective even, as he is a guard dog after all." She rambles on, a fond smile lighting up her face as she talks about her dog and continues to rub over his shiny fur.
When I say nothing in response, she turns her head to focus back on me, the smile a little less light and a little more sad,
"How are you feeling?"
Well, damn, is this the same girl? From pissed off with a gun to concerned in-wait, how long have I been out?
"I feel like I've been sliced up. How long have I been out?" I mumble a quick answer, secretly hoping that she didn't hear me, but knowing that it does not matter.
She must have seen my neck.
"For a couple hours. What's your name?" She answers with a curious expression.
"Santana." I whisper as I brave gazing into her eyes.
"I'm Rachel, this is my mother Shelby, and the pretty blonde is Quinn." She introduces herself and the other women who are sitting to the left of me.
Quinn is kneeling behind Rachel's mom, with her chin resting on the older woman's shoulder, and arms wrapped affectionately around her waist.
They look comfortable, a familiar embrace by the best of friends, or even lovers.
I wonder which they are.
"What happened tonight, Santana? Who hurt you?" Rachel, who has the most beautiful Chestnut eyes that I have ever seen, questions me in the most concerned tone I've ever heard come from someone whom I just met.
Also, there is seriousness in those orbs, a determination, and maybe even a dare for me not to answer.
There is no fuckin' way I would take up that dare, she kind of scares me, and I would hate to incur the wrath that is floating just below the surface, waiting to be unleashed.
"I don't know who he was; h-he came from behind me. Bastard took what little I had; the only thing he left me was my license and a scar to remember him by." Therefore, I answer her, the words flowing without hesitation, and only one stutter, which I consider a feat seeing as that is all I have been doing lately.
The little energy I had gained from the short nap in this amazing cloud disguised as a bed has pretty much zapped out, and I feel my eyes starting to droop.
"Santana, I need to ask you one more thing, and then you can sleep all you want, okay?" I nod sleepily in response as the hand from before feathers through my bangs.
Shelby has outstanding bedside manner, and I kind of don't want her to stop.
Though, I would not mind if her gorgeous daughter joined in on making me feel better…
"Where did this happen?" Rachel takes my hand when she asks, her thumb gently stroking along my knuckles.
"Right here, didn't you see-"
"No, I need to know the location of your attack." She shakes her head, fingers squeezing softly as she corrects me.
"Oh, yeah, right. Um, you know that d-diner, Bear's? I-I was over there when the storm hit, he closed down for the night, though, and I had to leave, but I didn't have anywhere to go. I s-stoped a few buildings up to rest and think of what to do from there. It was a printing shop I think, and I leant against the wall, which obviously turned out to be a big ass mistake." Of course, the stuttering had to come back, along with fresh tears as I remember everything that I can and relay it to her.
The whole thing is frustrating, and it just makes me feel more tired than I already am, but when the little brunette in the sexy dress smiles at me and runs her free fingers through my hair, everything seems worth it. Seeing her, seeing that smile pointed at me, has honestly made my night, and said night has been nothing but pure shit.
So, when my eyes flutter shut, they are followed by a lopsided smile.
Rachel.
What a pretty name for a gorgeous girl.
A wet tongue tickling over my arm is the last thing I remember before falling back to a much-needed sleep.