Disclaimer: I own nothing, everything is owned by RIB and Glee. Unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine.
Trigger warnings: sexual abuse, abortion, domestic violence, physical abuse of a child, suicide.
Please review and let me know what you think.
Santana Lopez felt like she was always exhausted. She was exhausted in a way that most teenagers weren't, it was an exhaustion that came with age, with the stresses of work, home and children. Teenagers weren't supposed to be so tired all the damn time, but Santana was. Santana was lucky if she was able to go to bed before midnight, her lullaby often consisting of the sounds of her mother, Shelby and stepfather, Hiram shouting and cursing, something so commonplace that Santana has stopped flinching when she hears the sound of a hand meeting flesh or of a body meeting a wall. But tonight, tonight Santana had been lucky, and was able to fall asleep by eleven that evening, which was why when someone started shaking her after what felt like only five minutes of sleep all she could do was groan and swat at whatever it was that was interrupting her sleep.
"Santana, wake up." Eight year old, Rachel Berry whined, shaking her older sister again, dodging Santana's swatting hands.
"Rachel?" Santana questioned when she opened her eyes blinking furiously as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, studying her younger sister's face. She could see the tear tracks on Rachel's face in the moonlight, and knew from the way Rachel was still sniffling slightly that she had been crying recently. Santana was surprised that other than the soft strains of music coming from the headphones that her fourteen year old sister, Quinn had fallen asleep with, the rest of the house was silent and still, "What's wrong?"
"I had a nightmare,"Rachel sniffled, scrubbing at the tears on her cheeks, "And I-I wet the bed."
"Hey, it's okay munchkin," Santana soothed, as Rachel's tears began anew. Santana sat up in bed, stretching lazily as she ran a hand through Rachel's hair in an attempt to calm her.
"Santana," She heard Quinn groan from the other side of the room, "Shut that little troll up." Santana rolled her eyes at Quinn, not even bothering to address her.
"Come on, Rach, let's go get you cleaned up." Santana said, leading Rachel out of the bedroom, smacking Quinn on the back of the head as she did so, slamming the door shut quickly to avoid being hit by the pillow that Quinn launched at her.
"Why does Quinn hate me?" Rachel asked softly as she and Santana entered her bedroom. Santana studied Rachel, once again struck by how small her sister was in her frilly pink nightgown, her hair askew from sleep.
"She doesn't." Santana stated, and Rachel gave Santana such a skeptical look, one that definitely looked ridiculous on her face and had Santana fighting a smile. Rachel's shoulders slumped, her head bowing as she shuffled her feet through the carpet, not able to meet Santana's eyes as she stripped Rachel's sodden sheets from the bed.
"She acts like she does, she is always so mean to me." Rachel grumbled and while Santana found Rachel's behavior endearing, she was also struggling to put Quinn's extremely complex behavior into terms that Rachel would understand. Because Santana knew that Quinn really didn't hate Rachel or any of her siblings, but that she was angry, angry that she felt like she didn't fit, that she was blonde and hazel eyed in a family full of brunettes, and that she was the only sibling who had no idea as to who her father was.
"She doesn't, Rachel, she's just complicated." Santana explained, "Now get some new pajamas and underwear, while I start the bath for you."
"That's okay, I don't really need to take a bath. I would just like to change and go back to bed." Rachel said nervously, chewing at her lip.
"Yes, you do. So hurry up, it's late and I'm tired." Santana said as Rachel just continued to stand there, shifting her weight anxiously and staring at the floor beneath her feet, her eyes narrowing as she studied her little sister, "Rachel, what is going on with you?"
"N-nothing, I can just take a bath in the morning." Rachel said, and Santana sighed as she gathered Rachel's wet laundry in her arms, to exhausted to continue the argument. Rachel watched as Santana left the room, before scrambling to her dresser in an attempt to pull out new pajamas and get them on before Santana came back. She had just gotten her nightshirt over her head when she heard a sharp gasp behind her and quickly yanked her shirt down, before spinning around wide eyed and facing an ashen Santana. She felt tears pooling in her eyes as her heart began to pound in her chest. She was frozen, just staring at Santana, not knowing what to do and not able to come up with words to explain.
"Rachel," Santana started her voice quivering with barely suppressed rage, as she drew in a deep breath through her nose, "Did Hiram do that to you?" Santana was referring to the patchwork of pea green, yellow and purple bruises that covered Rachel's back, and the large red welts that created a lattice work from Rachel's shoulders to her waist, scabbed over in some places where her skin had clearly been broken open.
"You-you're not...he told me.."Rachel stuttered, the words getting caught in her throat as her breath hitched in her chest. Santana rushed forward as soon as she saw how erratic Rachel's breathing was becoming, tears pouring down the little girl's cheeks. Santana attempted to gather Rachel into her arms, to calm her, but Rachel fought against her, her small fists batting ineffectually at Santana's chest. Santana finally relented and Rachel scrabbled backwards until her back was pressed against the wall between her dresser and closet before slumping to the ground, curling her legs into herself, pressing her forehead against her knees as she attempted to get her breathing under control.
"Rachel. Rachel. I need you to breathe, okay?" Santana told Rachel, running her fingers through Rachel's hair in an attempt to soothe her terrified baby sister."I need you to tell me what happened."
"I-I can't," Rachel sobbed, "He-he told me I couldn't tell anyone or it would be worse the next time." Rachel's words were quickly lost to her tears as she allowed Santana to pull her into her arms, Santana rocking Rachel slightly in an attempt to soothe her, Santana's own tears falling onto Rachel's hair, as Rachel clutched at Santana's tank top.
She was so stupid. She knew Hiram was a sadistic bastard seeing as she had been on the receiving end of his form of "punishment" more than once since he and her mom, Shelby had married when Santana was eight. But she had always thought Rachel and her twin brother, Blaine were safe with him. He was their father, and he doted on them, had always doted on them. She had never suspected that he would hurt either of them. But she had been wrong. Her stomach twisted painfully at the thought of her tiny little sister cowering in fear as Hiram hit her repeatedly with his belt or his hand. She was supposed to protect them, protect all of them, and she hadn't been there, she hadn't even know that this was going on. She had always focused on Quinn, and making sure Quinn was safe and was never alone with Hiram, and had completely overlooked how he could be hurting Rachel.
"How-how long?" Santana asked Rachel once her tears had subsided to occasional hiccups and sniffles.
"I-I don't know," Rachel said shrugging, "It's my fault, he told me to be good, he told me to listen, I just make him so m-mad."
"What? No, no, Rachel. This is not you fault, even if you do make him mad, he shouldn't hurt you," Santana said sternly, pulling back from Rachel slightly, forcing the smaller girl to look up at her. Rachel seemed to accept Santana's answer and nodded, yawning. "Come on, munchkin, let me get you in the bath and then you can come sleep in my bed tonight." Santana got to her feet, guiding Rachel into the en suite bathroom, and helping her into the bathtub.
"You won't tell anyone will you, San?" Rachel asked after a few moments, studying her older sister's face. She could tell by the creases on Santana's forehead, the subtle way she was clenching her jaw every few seconds and drumming her fingers on her thigh that Santana was angry. But her dad had been clear about her not telling anyone, and if she did, not only would she get it but so would whoever she told. So she had made sure not to say anything, and she had sworn Blaine to secrecy, he had agreed because he was terrified of their father.
"No, Rach, I won't tell anyone," Santana reassured the younger girl, even though all she really wanted to do was kill her stepfather and maybe her mother since she had to have been home when Rachel was getting "punished" although with all of the self medicating she did she may have had no idea, "But I need you to tell me if someone is hurting you. I know you think you are protecting me, or Blaine or Quinn or Noah, but that isn't your job." Rachel nodded looking down at her hands as she skimmed them across the surface of the water, "I-I need to ask you something, okay? And I need you to be honest with me, Rach. Has he ever touched you anywhere else, like somewhere you didn't want to be touched?" Rachel's head snapped up immediately, her eyes locking onto Santana's, widening as she took in Santana's question.
"N-n-no. He-he wouldn't, he hasn't." Rachel stammered, shaking her head vehemently. Santana stomach clenched painfully when she realized she was unable to tell whether or not Rachel's vehement denial was because she was upset by Santana's question or because she was lying. Santana was choosing to believe the former, because she didn't want to picture Hiram on top of her tiny baby sister, one hand over her mouth, as the other touched her in a way that no father should ever touch his child, whispering in her ear all the ways in which he would hurt her or her siblings if she ever told anyone what he was doing. "Can I get out now?"
Santana swallowed down the bile that had risen in her throat at her own thoughts, and nodded to Rachel, holding out a towel for her. Rachel turned her back to Santana as she began to towel off and pull on her clean clothes. Santana was unable to pull her gaze away from the mottled bruises and welts on Rachel's back. Santana had no idea how she had missed this, how she hadn't noticed that Hiram had been hurting Rachel, had obviously been hurting Rachel for awhile since under the bruises she could see the shiny white skin pulled tight where the flesh had scarred after the old cuts had healed.
"I'm so sorry." Santana breathed out softly, blinking furiously against the tears that had flooded her eyes.
"It's okay, San," Rachel assured her sister, as Santana shook her head furiously, wanting to scream that it wasn't okay, that she, she should never have allowed this to happen to Rachel, that Rachel being hurt was her fault for not noticing sooner, because she really should have seen what was going on, but she settled for saying nothing, picking Rachel up and carrying her into the room Santana shared with Quinn. She placed Rachel in her bed and laid down next to her, Rachel immediately curling into her side, throwing one of her arms around Santana's waist.
"Night munchkin, love you."Santana murmured, kissing the top of Rachel's head as Rachel murmured the same to Santana, snuggling closer.
It was late, like really late, the only light in the room coming from the cracks in the blinds where the moonlight was streaming in. Santana opened her eyes blearily peering into the blackness of her bedroom. She didn't know what woke her up but then she felt it, a hand stroking the inside of her thigh. Santana whimpered clamping her thighs shut against the intrusion as she tried to fall back asleep. She felt someone pull her thighs apart and then the stroking continued, one finger brushing her underwear. Santana's eyes flew open as she squirmed uncomfortably, trying to get away from whoever was touching her like that, finding that her hips were being held down, and she couldn't move. She opened her mouth to scream, and a hand clamped down over her mouth. Santana's eyes darted frantically over to the bed where Quinn slept, relief washing over her when she saw that Quinn was still asleep and unaware of the struggle that was going on in Santana's bed.
"Don't you dare scream, you little bitch." Santana heard a rough, gravelly voice, Hiram's voice, whisper in her ear, his breath hot as it washed over her face, the pungent aroma of cigarette smoke and alcohol reaching her nostrils causing her to gag and Santana froze, her body stilling in her struggle to get away from Hiram, "If you scream, it will be your little bastard sister who gets it next, do you understand?" Santana whimpered and nodded, hot tears pouring down her cheeks as she squeezed her eyes shut tightly as he pulled his hand away from her mouth.
Hiram resumed his movements, his fingers stroking the front of her underwear, his other hand holding her thighs open, his fingers pressing so tightly to her thighs that she was sure there would be bruises. Santana wanted to fight, to strike out at Hiram, to kick him or bite down, but she held as still as possible, allowing him to touch her because she knew if she fought, he would do this to Quinn, and Quinn was only a baby, she was only in fourth grade and Santana had started middle school this year. Santana felt something hard poking against her thigh where Hiram had laid down and pressed against her, his hips moving against her hip in time with his hands moving against her underwear. Santana nearly screamed again when she felt Hiram's hand began touching her underneath her underwear, his fingers rough and bruising, making Santana fear that he had scratched her or cut her in some way.
He was grunting in her ear, his hips moving faster as was his hand, and Santana turned her head so she was facing the wall, her breath coming in short panicked gasps as she cried silently trying to control the sobs that wanted to burst forth too afraid of what would happen if she made too much noise. She heard him grunt one final time, his hand stilling as his body stiffened where he was pressed against her hip. "Good girl." He murmured as he pulled his hand from her panties, patting her hip.
She squeezed her eyes shut again as she felt her mattress shift as he got up from the bed, the sound of her door opening and closing signifying that he had exited her room. The sobs bubbled up from her chest as he left, her whole body shaking with the force of them. Santana felt her bed shift again and she stilled, sucking in deep breaths to quiet her sobs as she felt small arms wrap around her waist. Santana twisted slightly and met Quinn's wide, frightened hazel eyes, tear tracks glistening on her cheeks in the moonlight. Santana sobbed harder, because she knew Quinn had been awake the whole time, that Quinn had seen what Hiram had done, had listened to what Hiram had grunted in her ear. She felt Quinn's arms wrap tighter around her body, clinging to her.
"I-I'm so-so sorry," Santana gasped, "I-I won't let him..he won't..he won't ever do-do that to you." She felt Quinn nod against the back of her neck, as Santana continued to murmur promises and apologizes into the darkness of the room.
Santana awoke with a gasp, a silent scream dying on her lips, her entire body covered in a sheen of sweat as her breath came in short spurts. Her chest felt tight, like she couldn't suck in enough air, her heartbeat pounding in her chest and her ears, her stomach roiling uncomfortably as she pushed Rachel away from her as gently as she could, rushing from her bedroom on shaky legs as she shoved the door to the bathroom open, tensing when the doorknob banged against the wall, before dropping to her knees, pulling her hair to the side and emptying the contents of her stomach. She hadn't had a flashback like that in a long time, at least a year, because Hiram had never really stopped.
He had never stopped coming into her bedroom under the cover of darkness, smelling of stale cigarettes and cheap whiskey, his hands rough and seeking. It had escalated after that first time and she had been only thirteen the first time he had come into her room late at night and pinned her to the bed, before yanking her panties aside and shoving himself inside of her. He had held her arms down and she had bit through her lip in an attempt to suppress her screams. Santana laid her head against the cool rim of the toilet seat, her body trembling as she attempted to push the memories from her mind, her skin crawling as she remembered every touch, every grunt, every whispered word that was panted into her ear. She barely realized that she was scratching at her own skin, wanting to get the memory of him off of her, until she saw the faint red lines appearing on her arms. She was debating on whether or not she wanted to take a shower to cleanse herself of him, when she heard a crash from the floor below her.
Her head swam, black spots erupting across her vision as she pushed herself to her feet, nearly tripping on the carpet as she rushed downstairs. She flipped on the light in the foyer and saw Noah crouched down trying to right the table he had no doubt stumbled into and knocked over. Santana could tell from the way he was swaying, from how unsteady he was on his feet that he had been drinking. She crossed her arms over her chest, as she watched Noah blink blearily under the light that she had just turned on.
"You have got to be fucking kidding me." She hissed as she watched Noah fumble with the table, stalking towards him in frustration at his incompetence.
"Santana!" He exclaimed when he noticed her presence, a smile playing at his lips, his voice too loud and bright for the stillness of the house. Santana could hear the soft sound of snoring coming from the living room off of the foyer, and knew her mom must have passed out in there after her nightly binge. Santana stilled listening for a change in the snoring, some proof that Noah had woken their mother up.
"Could you shut the fuck up?" Santana hissed, shoving at his shoulder as he continued to grin at her, " Where the fuck have you been?"
"Around." Noah said, his speech slurred as he swayed unsteadily, laughing to himself.
"Ugh, just go to bed, Noah and take a fucking shower you stink." Santana bit out, she couldn't fucking deal with him right now, not when he was like this, not when she already had one fucking drunk to deal with almost nightly. She watched as he gave her a half assed salute, a smirk on his face before he trudged up the stairs. Santana just rolled her eyes in response, taking a deep breath as she let the anger leak from her pores. She would never tell him, but she missed him, missed what they used to be. But she couldn't help but hate him a little too, for abandoning her and making her deal with the fucked up mess their home had become on her own.
Santana and Noah were the only biological children of Alejandro and Shelby Lopez. Their parents had been young, barely eighteen when they had met in a shared psychology class at their college. They had fallen in love and had gotten pregnant with Noah by accident when they were barely nineteen years old. They were married by twenty and had had Noah two months after their wedding night. They had conceived Santana only two months after Noah's birth and by twenty-one they were the parents of two children under the age of one. Santana and Noah were only eleven months apart and had been SantanaandNoah for as long as she could remember.
But that had all changed when Noah realized that no matter how badly he wanted to protect his family, he wasn't able to, a hard truth that had been driven home when an attempt to protect himself and his family had ended in a nine month stint in juvenile hall and an arrest record for domestic battery. When he returned he was rarely home, was angry in a way that Santana had never seen him, and when he realized he couldn't fight for his family, he began to get into fights elsewhere, reappearing some nights with black eyes and bloody knuckles, the sickly sweet smell of alcohol on his breath and clinging to his clothing. She never asked Noah where he disappeared to at night, so he would never have the chance to lie because they both had their secrets and she wouldn't ask for his when she would never be ready to tell him hers.
Santana waited until Noah had disappeared around the landing before creeping in the living room. She found Shelby asleep on the sofa, limbs askew, one hand dangling off the edge of the couch, her fingers brushing the carpet where a bottle of rum laid on it's side, dripping onto the carpet. Santana could see a fresh bruise coloring her mother's cheek, the purple and black standing out in stark relief against her pale skin. Santana couldn't help the white hot anger that flooded her veins as she studied her mother's prone form, anger at her mother for her indifference to the way he treated her children, to the way he treated her, and at her mother for retreating into the bottom of bottle rather than protecting her children. Santana unconsciously clenched her fists as she stalked towards the couch, giving her mother a vicious shake in an attempt to rouse her.
Santana remembered how hard she had sobbed and begged her mother to wake up the first few times that she and Noah had found their mother passed out, but that hadn't happened more than once or twice as this sight had become a common occurrence over the years. Santana knew she should just leave her mother to sleep it off, but she had worked so hard to keep the full extent of her mother's addiction from her younger siblings, never wanting them to see their mother for the mess she truly was. When the vicious shake Santana had delivered had not roused her mother into wakefulness, Santana began to slap Shelby's cheeks none too gently and was rewarded when Shelby's eyes shot open, glazed and unfocused as she squinted against the brightness of the light, confusion coloring her face.
"San? What's going on?" Shelby questioned her voice gravelly with sleep and slurred from the effects of the alcohol she had consumed. Santana watched as Shelby attempted to push herself into a sitting position, her limbs heavy and uncoordinated.
"You're wasted, that's what." Santana spat, leaning over to assist Shelby in sitting up, grunting in exertion as she tried to arrange Shelby's uncooperative limbs in away that prevented her from falling over, holding her breath against the cloying smell of alcohol that hung around Shelby, "And you fucking stink, so do you think you could maybe fucking help me just a little bit."
"You know what? Just get the fuck off me. I don't need your damn help." Shelby spat, pushing Santana away from her, causing Santana to stumble back slightly. Santana crossed her arms over her chest and watched with a raised eyebrow as Shelby struggled to pull herself up in a sitting position.
"God, you are fucking mess." Santana said, quickly becoming frustrated with watching Shelby try to push herself into a sitting position and once again reached to help her mother, but was stopped when Shelby's open palm connected solidly with her cheek, causing her head to be whipped to the side violently.
"Who the fuck do you think you are? I am your mother." Shelby scolded Santana, the adrenaline coursing through her system after slapping her daughter allowing her to finally push herself up into a sitting position. Santana clutched at her burning cheek, her eyes narrowing in anger at her mother and in an attempt to control the tears that were stinging them.
"You are not a fucking mother," Santana told Shelby, her voice strained and shaking with barely controlled rage as she fought to keep her emotions in check, "You are a fucking drunk, who lets her husband beat the shit out of her and her children." Santana stormed out of the room then, turning her back on her mother who was struggling to get to her feet, her fists clenched tightly to her body as she stormed upstairs. Santana listened intently from the darkness of the second floor landing as Shelby stumbled up the stairs, tripping over her own feet and the carpet. As angry as Santana was at Shelby, she didn't know how to just turn her back and leave her mom to take care of herself even when Shelby definitely didn't deserve her help or her sympathy.
Santana caught Shelby around her waist as soon as she stepped onto the second floor landing, leading her into her bathroom, plopping her unceremoniously on the closed toilet lid. In the brighter light of the bathroom, Santana saw that in addition to the bruise on her cheek, the thin skin underneath her eye had been broken, most likely by the ring that Hiram wore. Santana busied herself with running a washcloth under warm water, shooting furtive glances at Shelby, who was gripping the toilet seat tightly in an attempt to remain upright.
"Could you stop looking at me like that?" Shelby questioned her voice flat and emotionless sounding surprisingly more sober than she did ten minutes ago, "I can take care of myself you know."
"Shut up. You haven't taken care of yourself in years." Santana said scoffing as she passed the washcloth to her mother, turning to lean back against the sink, her arms crossed over her chest as she studied Shelby, studying how Shelby's hair hung limp and lank around her face, how her cheekbones jutted out more than they should and how sunken her eyes had become.
"Yes, Santana, I am aware of what a horrible mother I am." Shelby said her tone bored and flat as she stared at the floor, and Santana felt the rage rising in her once again as her mother appeared to be so unaffected by anything and everything.
"He's hitting Rachel." Santana told her, and it had the desired effect as Shelby's head snapped up, her eyes narrowing as she studied Santana's face for dishonesty.
"You're lying." Shelby accused and Santana just rolled her eyes.
"Why the fuck would I lie about the fact that your child's back is covered in bruises and welts?"
"I-I didn't know," Shelby stammered, "I had no idea, San."
"Of fucking course you didn't know! " Santana shouted, and Shelby flinched at the harshness in Santana's tone. Santana clenched her fists, her fingernails digging into the soft flesh of her palm as she fought the urge to punch Shelby or punch a wall, drawing in a deep breath before she continued in a calmer voice, "You never fucking know. You spend your entire life either too drunk or too high to even remember your own damn name. But you are supposed to fucking know, they are your kids. Yours, not mine or Noah's, you are supposed to protect them or at least fucking know when someone is hurting them."
"And what about you?" Shelby asked softly, Santana glanced at Shelby quickly, and looked away when she saw the tears brimming in her mother's eyes as she looked up at Santana. This was the first time in years where Santana was actually able to get through to her mother, and Santana couldn't deny the relief that flooded her body at the fact that Shelby was finally listening to her, hearing the things that she was telling her.
"This isn't about me,"Santana murmured, biting down on her lower lip to keep it from quivering, the pain helping her focus on not allowing the tears that were stinging her eyes to fall, "This is about them. They deserve more than this, mom. Rachel is so little, and he is hurting her. You have to do something, we have to do something."
"Santana.."Shelby began, studying the tile beneath her feet, her hair covering her face like a veil.
"No. No. You don't get to do this. You don't get to tell me there is nothing you can do. You're our mom. We need you to be our mom again," Santana realized she was pleading even as she crouched down beside her mom, forcing Shelby to look at her, "We can leave mom. We can. There are agencies, people who can help. We could leave and never look back."
"San." Shelby sighed, cupping Santana's cheek softly, as a tear slid down Santana's cheek. It had been so long since Shelby had actually acted like a mother, but in this moment, Santana could remember the woman her mother used to be, before Hiram, before the alcohol and the depression and the anger. Shelby could see the hope brimming in her daughter's eyes, the vulnerability that she hadn't seen in her oldest daughter's eyes in years. She wanted to assure Santana that they could leave, that they could start over, but she couldn't. She couldn't think about leaving Hiram, not when she wasn't even sure that she knew how to be a mother to her children anymore, not when she knew that he would never let them leave, that he would fight for custody of Rachel and Blaine and he would win, because he was a well respected doctor and she was just a drunk with no job. And she knew what Santana was saying was true that they could leave, that they could find a way to make it work, but Shelby was more terrified at the thought of leaving, than she was of staying because having to deal with Hiram, having to spend hours sometimes covering up bruises was the life that she deserved. She knew that her children deserved more and deserved better but she didn't think that she could be that for them.
"I-we-we-can't." She said, Shelby watching as Santana's walls came back up, as she shrugged Shelby's hand off of her face almost violently, all traces of tears gone in an instant.
"Fuck you," Santana scoffed, anger flashing in her eyes, "If you won't do something, then I fucking will. I swear to you I will take them, I will call DCFS and I won't give a fuck if we are put in foster care, because at least we'll be safe."
"You can't do that Santana. You're sixteen, you can't just decide to take them, they are my children." Shelby told her daughter becoming infuriated when all Santana did was shrug one shoulder lazily in response, her gaze hardening as she locked eyes with her mother.
"Then start acting like it. Until you do, Rachel and Blaine will be with either me or Noah. Don't bother dragging your hungover ass out of bed to drive them to school or to pick them up. If you won't protect them, then I will." Santana stated, before spinning on her heel and storming out of the bathroom, leaving Shelby sitting on the toilet, running a shaking hand through her hair. Shelby knew how single minded Santana could be, how stubborn and hot headed she was, traits she had gotten from her biological father. But she also knew how fiercely protective and loyal her oldest daughter was. Shelby didn't doubt for a second that Santana would make good on her threat and she didn't know what to Hiram would kill her for even entertaining the thought of leaving him, he would definitely kill her if DCFS got involved in their lives. Shelby felt a sob burst from her chest as her head swam partially from the alcohol and partially from the thoughts of her husband hurting her children, their children, and how she didn't even have the strength to get up and leave, to do what she could to protect her children.
As her tears fell, she scoured the cabinets looking for the little orange bottle of pills that would make all of these thoughts stop, that would take her to a place where she wasn't imagining bruises on tiny bodies, or hate smoldering in dark almost black eyes, or disappointment and sadness hanging from every word. She wanted to forget, needed to forget how she had failed them, how she couldn't remember the last time she had had a sober conversation with Quinn or the last time she had hugged Noah or Santana or how implicitly Blaine and Rachel trusted her and Hiram and how they had shattered that trust time and time again with harsh words, even harsher blows and complete disinterest. She nearly let out a small triumphant cry when she found the bottle of pills she had been searching for, dry swallowing two, before stumbling into her bedroom and falling onto her bed, sleep already tugging at her mind.
Santana listened from her bedroom as Shelby sobbed being accompanied by the sound of pill bottles rattling or clattering to the floor, knowing exactly what Shelby was searching for. Santana slid into bed beside Rachel, the small girl turning to her and curling against her body. Santana's own tears had already dried and all she felt was exhausted, too exhausted to even be angry at Shelby's outright refusal to leave. She should have known better, she had worked so hard at only feeling anger or apathy when it came to dealing with her mom, but somewhere between her mom's gentle voice and soft touch, she had forgotten and had allowed hope to fill some of the empty places in her heart, but she knew that Shelby would never leave, had known that before she had even pleaded with her mother to. It hadn't been the first time she had begged her mother to leave Hiram, but after hearing excuse after excuse for why they couldn't leave, she had quit asking and focused instead on figuring out ways to survive. She had thought she had been doing fairly well at keeping her siblings out of harms way until that night and the bruises on Rachel's tiny body. She kissed the top of Rachel's head, pulling the small girl closer to her as she allowed the sounds of her sisters' breathing to pull her into sleep.