Chapter 1: Cyclical Torture

Frantic gasping interrupted the peaceful atmosphere of the cold night. Santana's pupils are dilated, cold sweat covering every inch of her frail body. Her fists are clenched at her sides, grasping the white bed sheets as if it were her lifeline; her last remaining connection to reality.

Fire.

Images of the nightmare are vivid in her mind. Santana could remember every detail of it and describe it in perfect clarity. She would have told someone that the contrasting images of the flare of fire and the acuity of darkness would have been majestic if everything else wasn't horrifying. She knew she had to tell someone. But not now, she can't.

"Stop." Santana whispers hoarsely to herself. She forces her breathing back under control and closes her eyes in an attempt to stop the images. "Stop." She whispers again, more firmly this time.

Nightmares aren't anything new for Santana. They've become part of her everyday life. It is a constant reminder of her past – something she was more than willing to forget about. But life doesn't work that way, it never has and it never will.

Once she was calm enough to handle the darkness, Santana glanced at the alarm clock beside her.

2:43 am.

Not more than two hours ago, she woke up in a similar state. She thinks that she'd rather go to hell than to go through that a third time.

"Damn it." She mutters quietly to herself because even though she so badly wants to scream in frustration, Quinn will not appreciate the rude wake-up call at an absolutely absurd time. She practically owes the girl her life.

Santana swings her legs off the bed, dragging herself to the kitchen to make herself a much-needed cup of coffee.

Her day has begun.

"You look like hell." Santana jumps at the sudden voice having been accustomed to almost three hours of silence. Quinn is walking towards her to join her on the counter, her eyes still half-closed.

"Thanks. At least, I don't look like death. Good morning to you too." Quinn rolls her eyes, gratefully accepting the mug of coffee Santana is offering her.

Santana quietly drinks in the familiarity of it all because somehow, it gives her comfort that something is constant in her life other than the nightmares. As Santana goes over the newspaper in front of her and gulping down her second cup of coffee, Quinn observes her friend closely.

"Bad night?" She asks, noticing the exhaustion on the Latina's face. Santana doesn't even look up from her newspaper. This is part of their routine.

"Not the worst."

"It's been a year and a half since the accident. How come you're still having nightmares?" Santana shrugs although she visibly tenses for the next thing Quinn is going to say.

A year and a half ago, Santana lost her family to a fire. She was twenty and was well on her way to becoming a lawyer. Her parents and her sister were all proud of her and they would often go on vacation trips. They were happy. And then the unthinkable happened. All Santana could remember was an explosion late during the night of her graduation. The next thing she knew, her dad was carrying her out of the house and her arms were burned. Her dad went back to save her mother and sister and braved the raging fire. They never made it out. When Santana was conscious enough, she rushed back in, worried as to why no one was coming out. The police found her, half-burned, cradling the burned bodies of what used to be her family.

The family insurance was able to pay all her hospital bills. But Santana refused to go back or to even set foot within a mile radius of where she used to live. That was when she found a home with Quinn. The girl attended to her every need and was the one who pulled her out of depression enough to get her to function. The doctors told Quinn that Santana was experiencing Acute Stress Disorder, a common reaction to tragedy. She was told that it usually lasted for just a month.

This is why Quinn was worried.

When after a month, the nightmares didn't stop and Santana continued to avoid anything related to fire, she consulted a friend psychiatrist. The psychiatrist told her that Santana might be undergoing Nightmare Disorder with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. But he could never be sure unless Santana willingly comes to him for examinations and therapy.

"Maybe you should go see someone."

"No."

"Why not?"

"I don't need anyone." Santana finally looks up from her newspaper, meeting Quinn's frown. "Quinn, leave it. I'm fine."

It's been like this ever since she exceeded the normal month. Santana refused to see anyone and trusted almost no one. The fire killed not only her family but also her ability to live. She functioned, she answered questions, she did the things she was supposed to do. But her eyes were dead, lifeless, sorrowful. Her entire physique screamed agony and sometimes, when Santana was too tired to hide it, the sight would make Quinn burst into tears – the tears that Santana never found the courage to shed.

"At least talk to me about it." Santana trusts Quinn with her life. And the blonde knows that. But both knew that Santana is not ready for this. At the mere thought of it, the color drains from her face.

"I – I can't." Really, she is trying. She sees the disappointment flash through Quinn's green, honest eyes and she hates herself for being so weak that she can't even talk about something that happened years ago. "I'm sorry, Q. I'm sorry." She says.

"Don't worry about it, San." Quinn gives her a reassuring smile. What Santana is going through is something she will never be able to understand. But she does know that Santana needs a friend… and maybe lots of sleep.

"Oh yeah, Caleb's asking if we're on for lunch later." Santana had to smile. In her list of people she can trust, which only consisted of two people, Caleb Librea is the other person. He's this tall, jet black haired guy she met three months after her life decided to torture her. She was at the Henessey's, a bar downtown, trying to drink herself to death. He had the courage to drag her home – her home being at Quinn's – and to lecture her that whatever it was she was going through, she was not alone. It was the first time she broke into tears since she lost her family. Ever since then, they were a trio. It made Santana feel like she belonged.

"He's asking us or he's asking you?" Quinn's cheeks flushed a brilliant shade of pink. Since they became a trio, it was no secret to all of them that Caleb liked Quinn. He wasn't exactly subtle and Santana thinks that he did not even try to hide it.

"Shut it, Lopez. He's asking us. I have no meetings later, thank goodness and apparently, he doesn't have any either."

"My hearing ends at 11. So yeah, I guess we're good." Quinn types out a quick text and snaps the phone shut, diving into the takeout Santana had reheat right before Quinn woke up. Santana goes back to reading her newspaper, feeling a little bit better.

"You know, I'm here for you, right?" Santana smiles and Quinn beams. It's a rare occurrence to see the brunette smile especially after what happened to her and it's always a relieving sight for Quinn because even the smallest of her smiles reassure her that grief hasn't won her friend over. She is still alive, at least partially.

"I know." Santana's smile gives off a hint of sadness. "Be patient with me, Q. One way or another, I'm going to get over this shit." Quinn nods, happy that at least Santana's expressing something.

"I've always been patient with you. Even when you kept on stealing my dolls when we were six." Santana slaps her playfully on the arm.

Thank you.

Work isn't easy for Santana. Every single time she walks through the glass doors, she would get pitiful looks and sympathetic pats on her back. At first, she tried to hide the effect of her constantly worsening nightmares by using an unbelievable amount of concealer. She soon gave up on that and now, she walks through the busy hallways with her eyes as dead as ever.

"Hey, Lopez!" Santana, who is wearing her power suit, stopped abruptly. She cringed as she recognized a mohawked guy walking towards her with that ever present mischievous smirk on his face.

"Puckerman." She greets as the two make their way to the elevator. Noah Puckerman, more commonly known as Puck, is her drinking buddy.

"You doing anything tonight?" Also, he's a guy who keeps asking her on dates. Santana rolls her eyes at him, too exhausted to dive into her usual speech as to why she is not going to date him and instead gets to the point.

"I'm a lesbian, Puck. How many times do I have to tell you that?" Puck laughs heartily.

"I know. But maybe mini Puck can set you straight."

"Oh God, do you really have to talk about your manhood inside an elevator?" She turns to a woman on her left who seemed amused with the entire conversation. "I don't know this guy."

"Aw, Satan. Come on."

"No."

"I promise you that I'm the absolute best in bed."

"No." Santana turns to glare at him. "Shut up before I decide to plant my heels in your sorry excuse for a penis." Puck pales and doesn't say a word for the rest of their elevator ride.

"Are you okay, Santana? Did you get any sleep last night?" He asks as soon as they reach their floor where he's able to distance himself from her.

"Not really. But what's new?" Puck sighed, this time giving her a small, sad smile. Santana ignores him and instead gets in touch with the lawyer Santana who's needed for her hearing. "Bye."

"Go get them, babe." He says in return before he hurries off to his own office.

Outside the court room, Santana takes in a deep breath. This is a place where she can't be a weak, cowardly little girl. This is where she was taught to keep the personal shit that may get in her way locked and secure. Here, Santana isn't just Santana. She becomes the most powerful lawyer in the history of the firm and she has to keep that title intact.

She pushes the door open, ready and on guard, and as strong as her exhausted mind can allow her to be.

Might be late. I just left the court room. I'll be there 10 minutes tops. – S

"Santana's going to be here in 10 minutes." Quinn announces to her companion. Caleb nods, too busy staring at her to formulate a verbal reply. The blonde flushes in embarrassment. "Stop staring, you're creeping me out." Caleb laughs deeply, getting the response he was aiming for.

"Sorry, I can't help it." Quinn laughs along with him. Somehow, things never got awkward between them even when the guy confirmed that he does indeed like her.

"How's the business going?" She asks once they've settled down. Caleb puts on a proud face.

"We're earning double since last month when we hired Brittany, the amazing choreographer and dancer I was telling you about. My entire staff's happy. My customers are happy. I'm happy." He says. "How're your clients?"

"Some Rachel Berry's making it hard for us to win her a decent contract. Other than that, we're doing great."

They know that they are only prolonging the inevitable. Just like always, Caleb cracks.

"How is she?" Quinn nods, understanding that they don't have much time before Santana gets to the restaurant.

"Last night may probably be the worst one this week. She looked dead, Caleb."

"It's not getting any better?" Caleb asks, his tone worried.

"No, I think it's getting worse. She doesn't have much of a social life and frankly, she's scaring me. She hasn't talked about it nor would she entertain the idea of seeing someone so that at least we know what's wrong with her." Caleb sighs and runs a hand through his unruly hair.

"And there's no improvement whatsoever?" Quinn fiddles with the fork on her side of the table.

"She smiled during breakfast and told me to be patient with her and that she was going to get over this. I don't really believe the second part but at least she's trying." Quinn says, the unshed tears shining in her eyes. It hurt her to see her lifelong friend suffering like that but she's got to be strong for her. Caleb notices the crack in her voice and reaches out to engulf Quinn's trembling hand in his. It was a friendly gesture as he set his personal matters aside to comfort his friend.

"It's okay, Quinn. I know she's going to be okay." He says, soothingly. Quinn looks at him with the best smile she can muster and Caleb smiles right back at her.

"Thanks." The blonde uses her free hand to wipe away the tears at the corner of her hands. Caleb only squeezes her hand in comfort.

"Uhm, am I interrupting something?" They both jump at the sound of Santana's voice and they completely let go of each other's hands.

"San!" Quinn exclaims, standing up from her sit to hug her.

"I can go if you want." The brunette says and Caleb quickly stands up, his hands raised in defense.

"No!" It came out louder than expected so he clears his throat and tries again. "No, stay. We've been waiting for you." He says a little too quickly. Quinn lets go of her, her face flushed. Santana eyes the two of them before breaking into a small smile.

"You know, you guys are disgustingly adorable when you're all flustered. Just take her, Caleb and have some amazing sex." When Caleb looks horrified and embarrassed and Quinn only blushes deeper, Santana lets out a small chuckle. "I was just joking, jeez. Let's get a move on, I'm starving."

"So, Caleb, how's your boring life?" Santana asks once they were able to sit and order their food.

"Not as bad as yours, Santana." Santana's eyes darken and Caleb quickly regrets what he said.

"Good." She says, coldly. Quinn watches the two of them with wary eyes and flinches when Santana replied.

"Sorry. That was below the belt." Caleb mutters sincerely, shrinking under the glare of Quinn. Santana's face softens.

"It's okay." She says. "But you know what's not okay?" Caleb looks at her, confused. "Me walking in to you two having eye sex. Seriously, why don't you two just get your mack on?"

"Santana!" Quinn slaps her arm reproachfully and Santana snickers. The guy just puts his face in his hands praying for the ground to open up and swallow him whole. Before either can come up with a withering retort to Santana, the food arrives.

"Oh, thank God." Santana says, burying herself in her food before it was even set in front of her. Her companions contently laugh at her.

Caleb and Quinn are more than just bestfriends to Santana. She teases them and sometimes they get into unnecessary fights. But they were the reason she's still alive. They would never allow her to commit suicide. They are the friends that someone like her needed. They are her hope that someday, her life will be okay and that someday, light will shine in her dark life.

"Night, Q."

"Night, S." They went to their respective bedrooms and while Quinn immediately drops on her bed, Santana hesitates by the door.

As she moves toward the bed, Santana curses the fact that she is human and that sleep is necessary.

In the moment when she closes her eyes, Santana's life has begun.

A/N: Hey guys, this chapter is basically an introduction to how Santana's everyday life goes. Also, Brittany will be in the next chapter so stay with me, okay? Tell me what you think?

Brittana FTW,

theangel1710