A/N: If you're triggered or bothered by eating disorders, stop reading now.
At this point, Santana couldn't remember a time when she didn't hate her body. She couldn't remember a time when her breath didn't taste like acid as she fell asleep, when could walk in a straight line by the end of the school day, when the very thought of food didn't make her want to hurl.
Santana had been sick for a while now.
It didn't start when she joined the Cheerios. Santana had never loved herself. She'd always skipped meals; she'd always spent long hours in front of the mirror, pinching and pulling at the extra fat on her thighs. She wanted it off, she wanted it all gone.
It didn't start when she joined the Cheerios, no, the Cheerios just fed her obsession.
Sue's sad excuse of a diet that she had issued the varsity squad was Santana's saving grace. It gave her an excuse, it made her realize- she didn't have to give up eating to be skinny. She just had to give up digesting.
Santana remembered the first time she'd purged her dinner. It was on her fifteenth birthday.
Go figure.
Her mother had made Santana's favorite meal, and then they had cake, so naturally, Santana ate a lot. Like, a lot.
Enough for her to feel totally disgusted with herself by the time her family had all left and she was alone in the bathroom.
She had just gotten out of the shower. Her wet, raven black hair was pulled back and held up in a sloppy bun. Some of her natural curls fell free and hung by her neck or the sides of her face. She was wrapped up in a fluffy burgundy towel, leaving her shoulders bare. The room was filled up with steam from the shower, the mirror fogged up, so Santana flicked the fan on and wiped off the mirror with a hand towel. She stared hard at her reflection.
Damn, she was fat.
No wonder Puck had cheated on her.
She'd just made the varsity Cheerios squad that summer, and Sue was just now starting to crack down on their weights. She probably was nice (Well, as nice as Sue Sylvester could be) for the first two months so she wouldn't lose any of the new girls. She'd never been that hard on the JV squad. In fact, when Santana was on the JV squad, it seemed like Coach Sue didn't care much about them at all. Being on varsity was definitely a new experience for her.
Santana knew that she was well under the cutoff for her next weigh-in. She knew she'd always be under it without even having to try to lose any weight. Santana had always been small and delicate. That logic didn't stop her from justifying her actions with Sue's orders and she knelt in front of the toilet and crammed two fingers down her throat.
It was gross, it smelled, and damn, it burned. Santana was sure that she'd never felt so disgusted with herself, and yet... she was pleased. She did feel lighter. She wiped her mouth and flushed the toilet, standing up to get a drink. It was fine. She was fine. She was better now.
A month later, Quinn and Brittany found out. It was then that Santana learned that none of the Cheerios were actually following Sue's crazy diet or drinking her "cleansing" smoothies. The rest of them were just exercising a lot and eating clean, watching their weight in healthier ways. If that didn't cut it, they just dealt with getting kicked off the squad. Their health was more important to them.
"Are you serious?" Quinn had scoffed. Brittany had just looked at her, silently, sympathetically. Brittany had always been gentler with Santana than Quinn had. Whatever they had between them had only strengthened the summer before sophomore year when they took each other's virginities at cheer camp. Quinn had kind of been a third wheel ever since, even though the three girls had all been best friends since middle school.
"Ask me again when you get kicked off the squad, Tubby," Santana had spat back. Quinn had immediately backed off, an unreadable expression on her face.
(She learned a week later that Quinn was pregnant, but she still didn't feel all that bad about it.)
The second Thursday in April that year was the first time Santana passed out in Cheerios practice. She'd only had 10 minutes left, she really, really though she'd make it. She was just so tired, though, and her mind felt to hazy. She could feel something pushing at the back of her eyes, a black tide threatening to overtake her.
Push through it, Lopez, she told herself, gritting her teeth against the pain in her head. You can do it. You've been through worse.
There were only two eights left in the routine when Santana fell, and everything went black.
(She'd woken up on a bench in the locker room with Brittany and Sue leaning over her. Sue had sighed something about how she was still new, and her body would eventually adjust to her diet. Brittany had taken Santana out for dinner, and had to practically force her to eat half of her salad.)
After that, Santana tried her hardest to stop it from happening again, just to deter suspicion. She'd eat before practice, then purge after. She started relying more on binging and purging than starving, eating more to keep her parents and Brittany from worrying too much, but she'd purge more and more often. She found herself sneaking out of class often to vomit. Rachel found her once, and Santana made her swear not to tell. (She'd actually threatened to thrash her if she told anyone, but that was between Rachel and her.)
Before school began their junior year, Brittany intervened.
"I know you're still doing it," she'd said. "I'm worried about you, Santana. I'm serious. You have to stop."
"I'm fine," Santana had argued. "I'll stop when I need to. I need to stay thin if I want to keep my spot as captain."
Brittany had shaken her head, her eyebrows pinched together in pain. She loved Santana, and wanted above everything for her to be safe. She didn't seem to know how to save Santana from this, though, and it killed her.
She tried to spend more time with Santana. It was difficult, because if Santana ate, she would purge, and if she didn't purge, she didn't eat. Brittany was hopelessly confused. How could it be that trying her hardest wasn't good enough? She'd lost so many nights of sleep on fears that always came true, she cooked so many meals for Santana that she would throw up after. It was a living hell.
When they made love, it wasn't what Brittany wanted. It wasn't like it had been before- a soft, gentle expression of their love, their special secret love that the world just wasn't ready to know about yet. Santana's lips tasted like vomit, her ribs jutted out of her chest and poked at Brittany viciously. Santana was always tired, and she just kind of laid there, letting Brittany touch her however she wanted.
Santana doesn't know how she's going to get better, or if she's ever going to get better. Maybe one day she'll pass out in glee club or cheer practice and not get up. In all honesty, if that happened, Santana doesn't even know if she'd care.
At least she's thin.