It hurts, it really hurts.

I didn't mean to break it, I only wanted to wash it. I didn't know it was so fragile. It was sitting there on the coffee table for weeks and it started smelling funny so I tried to wash it. I've seen Mom wash the dishes many times, so I thought I knew how to do it too. Dad had given that cup to her on one of their special dates. No one was home and there were no more clean cups so I tried to clean that one so I could get a drink of water. I shouldn't have touched it. I shouldn't have tried to wash it. Mom must have had a special way of washing it. I put my hand in it to wash the inside because the gunk in there was really stuck. I scrubbed harder and then it broke. It broke with my hand in it. I had two large cuts on my right hand. No one was home. I didn't know what to do, I never learned first aid. The bleeding didn't stop. I tried using paper towels but it just soaked through. I didn't know what to do. I was never taught. I ran to the washroom and grabbed a towel but then it started to soak through the towel. I didn't know what to do. I'm going to get in trouble for using this towel, it's not my towel. I called the only person I knew to call. Mom wasn't home, I think she's at work. I don't even know where Dad is. I wouldn't call them anyway, they told me never to call them when they're not home unless it's an emergency. I don't know if this is an emergency. They never told me what was considered an emergency. I called Santana.

Santana came in 6 minutes and 47 seconds. I left the door unlocked for her and sat on the kitchen floor watching the blood drip from my hand onto the towel I placed underneath it. It was really red. I didn't think we could have used the towel anymore. I owed my Mom another towel.

I had never seen Santana's eyes so wide before. No, that's a lie, I had. They got just as wide once when she heard my stomach grumble in English class and asked me when the last time I ate was. I told her I had left over pizza on Sunday. English class was on Tuesday. Her eyes went wide. I wonder if that's why I couldn't hear the teacher, my stomach was too loud. Sometimes I don't do my homework because I forget to eat or no one made me dinner or left me any food. I go to sleep because I'm hungry and when I sleep I'm not hungry. Then I go to school and because I didn't do my homework, the teacher gets mad at me, but I don't care. I don't care because my parents don't care about my grades, I think it's awesome that they don't care as much as other parents, then I don't have to do my homework. Anyway, that day Santana used her lunch money to buy me two sandwiches. One for lunch and one for dinner. I told her she was silly and that she needed to eat too. She just ran her fingers through my hair and told me to eat. So, I did. I ate the other sandwich for dinner because Mom got home late again. I didn't know where Dad was. Santana is so smart.

Santana was wearing sweat pants, a t-shirt, and no make-up. Her hair was tied up and it was messy, but I still thought she was the most beautiful person I've ever seen. She wrapped my hand really tight with another towel and told me to put it above my head and took me to the hospital, she said I needed stitches. I wasn't scared of stitches but I knew people will look at me weird when they see my hand wrapped in a towel and placed on my head. We waited in the waiting room. Santana had to fill out my medical forms because I couldn't use my hand. If only I was left handed like Santana then I could fill them out myself. She talked to the person behind the desk for me. I couldn't really hear what she was saying, I was thinking too much about what my mom was going to say when she sees her broken cup and her stained towel. I hoped she wouldn't be mad. I didn't get a chance to clean it. Santana wouldn't let me wipe the blood off the floor and counter. I would do that before Mom gets home. She might get mad that I left a mess. She always gets mad when I leave a mess. I try to keep my room clean. Santana took my hand and when she did, I stopped thinking about how mad Mom would be. I just smiled at her. I like it when Santana holds my hand. She smiled back but it wasn't a big smile. She looked kind of sad, no, she looked worried. I don't know why she looked worried. I'm fine. I only needed stitches. Dad told me stitches are nothing. It's funny because I had a big cut on my leg when I was dancing around the house and fell cut my leg on some of Dad's tools he left on the ground. He got kind of mad and told me I was clumsy and to stop dancing around. He kicked the tools to the side and went back into his office. I stopped the bleeding with a roll of paper towels and 14 band-aids. I switched them every time it leaked through. Dad never said I needed stitches. I have a very noticeable scar there now, but it's a reminder never to dance around the house when there are sharp tools lying about. I think Santana is right though, I think stitches would fix it better. Santana is smart, I trust Santana.

I got stitches. I know this stuff cost a lot of money. Santana asked me for my wallet and took out some sort of medical card thing she tells me to keep in there. I used to keep it in Lord Tubbington's hiding place because Mom told me to keep it safe. Santana told me to keep it in my wallet. I'm glad she did. Santana then takes out her own card and gives it to the lady. I watch her. Santana signs something and the lady gives her a piece of paper in return. When I asked her what it was, she told me not to worry about it. She held my left hand – because my right hand has stitches and a white bandage on it – and she drove me home.

My mom was home by the time we opened the door. She was cleaning the mess off the floor. I got scared. I don't know if it was me or Santana but one of us was shaking. She was still holding my hand. Santana told me to go to my room and change into something that didn't have blood all over it, so I did. I heard her talk to Mom. It started off quiet and then it got louder. After I changed I sat on my bed and waited. I was told never to leave my room when people were being loud downstairs but I also wanted to see Santana. I wanted to see why she was yelling. I don't like it when Santana yells. I couldn't go down though. Last time I went downstairs when I heard yelling, I also got yelled at and then I didn't get any dinner.

I stopped caring about dinner; I needed to make Santana not yell anymore. By the time I got to my room door, Santana had already made her way up the stairs. She looked angry. Her teeth were clamping down on each other so tightly I thought she might break her teeth. She was a little out of breath and kind of sweaty. She told me not to worry about anything and everything was cleaned up downstairs. I told her I needed to buy another cup and towel. She told me she will go with me after school. She gave me a kiss on the cheek and told me she was going to go and I needed to rest too. I don't like it when Santana leaves. I like it when she stays. She's the only person that really stays with me, but she told me she would see me at school the next morning so I went to sleep as soon as I could so the next morning would come quicker.

Today, I'm sitting in history and the teacher is talking. I'm looking at the book but I'm thinking about my hand. It hurts. It really hurts. It hurts more today than it did yesterday. Santana told me to take some pills before I came to school but when got into the kitchen, the pills were gone. Class goes by and I can't think of anything but my hand. The teacher asked me a question but I have no idea what her question was so I just looked at her. People started laughing. They probably think I'm stupid. Mom sometimes tell me I'm stupid when I don't know how to do things, but how am I supposed to do it when no one teaches me? I asked Dad if I was stupid and he just laughed and patted me on the head and went back into his office.

I get to see Santana at lunch. I couldn't make myself any lunch today because I can't use my hand. Santana buys me a chicken wrap but I'm not hungry. My hand hurts way too much. It feels like it's on fire. She asks me if I took my pills but I shake my head and tell her they were gone this morning. She takes some out of her backpack and gives it to me. She said it would make the pain go away so I take it. She makes me eat half the wrap and I save the other half for later. She tells me if I needed another pill for the pain to ask her for one tomorrow and this one should last me until then. I never know how long pills last for, my parents never tell me. They just throw away the boxes along with the little paper inside. So, I never take them unless Santana tells me it's okay.

In Chemistry, I sit and stare at the teacher again. I try to write with my left hand but I can't. I'm so focused trying to write with my left hand that I don't hear the teacher call my name. I look around and people are looking at me. She asks me what's H to O so I tell her I-J-K-L-M-N. The other kids laugh again. I don't know why. I thought it was correct. I don't' care though, I'm just surprised that my hand doesn't hurt anymore. Santana is so smart for giving me that pill. She always knows what to do. She teaches me so much more than any teacher or my parents ever had. I love Santana.

After school, she holds my hand as we go to the mall and pick out a cup and towel to replace the one I broke and ruined. When I take them home, I leave it on the table. Mom is out with her friends. I don't know where Dad is.

I hang out with Santana until she has to go. She makes me eat my wrap and I ask her what H to O is. She hands me a glass of water with a smile. I love it when she smiles. It makes me smile.

I wake up the next day and go to the kitchen, the cup and towel are still there. Well, Mom and Dad will see them eventually. At least Mom isn't home to yell at me about letting Lord Tubbington sleep on the couch again. I don't know where Dad is.

It's the weekend and Santana is on her way over to hang out and watch movies with me. She said she has all day to spend with me. When she arrives we eat the McDonalds breakfast she brings over and then snuggle on the couch to watch a movie of my choice. I picked Toy Story because it's all about best friends. I'm sitting up, leaning on the arm of the couch and Santana is leaning against my left side with her arms wrapped around me. Once the movie starts she snuggles closer – I love when she snuggles close – and she kisses me on the cheek and leans her head against my shoulder. This is the way life should be. I don't care what anyone says but I'm going to marry this girl one day so I can live with her because she makes me feel happy and good and tingly and comfortable. I'm not stupid, I know what love is. I know what I get from my parents isn't love. This, right here, with Santana, this is love.