Mea Culpa
Disclaimer: I don't own Glee, I do however own this story, I'm just borrowing the characters.
A/N: For the purpose of this ff Santana is in North Philadelphia which as I understand it to be is not the friendliest of places. If I get some of the Geography wrong then my sincerest apologies.
Santana pushed her hands deeper into her pockets in an attempt to keep them warm. She wandered aimlessly down broken streets; windows cracked and smashed allowing the cold Philadelphia air in, blustering mercilessly in a building that was never intended to be a crack house. It was starting to get dark now, and she knew she shouldn't be out here for much longer, but suddenly she couldn't push herself any further.
Her legs felt like they were made of stone, stuck in one place unable to carry on. The rubbish in the streets was slowly being dusted with the snow that fell in light breaths from the sky. The moon was licking at the edges of the buildings, and somehow, even under the cover of night you could tell it was a desolate place.
This was the place Santana had come to get lost. She buried her chin into the upturned lapels of her jacket, and forged forward as she became increasingly aware of the silence. That silence was heavy in the air, clinging desperately to the shadows making everything sinister – and broken. It was all broken.
If she could've she would have slipped out of her skin. She would've taken all the feelings from her soul just like sucking the marrow from bones. She wasn't sure how she felt anymore; she couldn't recognise this person she had become. She was a mere whisper of who she used to be.
She continued to walk steadily now, her breath forming a mist in the air as the snow fell down heavier and heavier. On the corner, a group of kids had gathered, spraying gang tags onto the walls safe in the knowledge that only witnesses were Santana and the buildings. The cables that ran from pole to pole started to droop beneath the weight of the snow and Santana was sure that would mean there would be no electricity tonight.
The trees stood, worn and bare as Santana passed them turning onto Ogden Street, it was home to her now. It had been for a year. It was such a far cry from where she used to be, but, as far as Santana was concerned it was a reflection of her.
It is who she is now, and where she belongs. She can stay lost here, anonymous.
Just the way she wanted it.