Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters, they are the property of RIB and company. Also this is still unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine.
Trigger Warnings: Allusions to sexual abuse, as well as physical abuse in this chapter.
A/N: Wow. I was completely blown away by the follows, favorites and reviews I received. Thank you so much. This story is going to be a slow burn and fair warning, things are going to get worse before they get better. There isn't a lot of action in this chapter, it's more of a set up for the later chapters and some insight into the dynamics between the siblings. i don't know how happy I am this chapter, but I wanted to get something out there so that ithe story can move forward.
The next morning, Santana woke up well before her alarm clock and as the rise and fall of Quinn and Rachel's voices filtered into her consciousness she realized why she was awake, they were arguing, they were always arguing, even at this ungodly hour, she was so used to it that it had pretty much become white noise and even now her foggy brain only made out the sounds of their voices, and not the actual content of their argument. Santana reached one hand over to where she could vaguely make out Rachel's form, pressed against the wall, clapping her hand over Rachel's mouth, as she used her other hand to pull the pillow out from under her head flinging the pillow in Quinn's direction, smirking as she heard Quinn's indignant squawk.
"Could the two of you please shut up?" Santana groaned, "The sun isn't even up yet, what could you seriously be arguing about?" Santana received no response, not that she expected to, although she could practically hear Quinn rolling her eyes, and Rachel took that opportunity to lick the palm of Santana's hand, causing Santana to yank her hand away, wiping it off on her blanket.
"Ugh, Rachel," Santana groaned, "What the hell?"Both Quinn and Rachel started giggling as Rachel scrambled off the bed before Santana could retaliate, practically diving on top of Quinn, who for once didn't complain, just pulled the girl against her in an attempt to protect her, both girls still unable to contain their laughter. Santana rolled her eyes as she pushed herself into a sitting position, because it figured that the only time that the two of them would shut up and stop arguing was when they were annoying the hell out of her. She reached for the other pillow on her bed, preparing to fling it at her sister, but then she saw it, saw Rachel flinch slightly at her movements, and then wince as Quinn squeezed her a little too tight. And reality came crashing down, because even if it was only for a couple of minutes, she had been able to forget about the previous night and the bruises, the fear and the anger.
But then Rachel flinched, her eyes widening for a split second, Santana able to make out fear in her eyes even in the low light of the room, and Santana had forgotten how even her playful movements could be mistaken for something else, that Hiram's treatment had left more than just a physical imprint on her younger sister. Santana let the pillow drop to the floor in between their beds, as she averted her eyes from her younger sister's, staring at the shapes of the shadows that were playing on the walls.
Quinn's eyebrows knit together in confusion as she observed the shift in the demeanor of her sisters, the air thick with a tension that hadn't been there only moments before. She had felt Rachel flinch and stiffen momentarily, the laughter dying in her throat when Santana had raised the pillow to fling it at them, the smaller girl staying pressed against Quinn, Quinn able to feel her little sister's heartbeat pounding against her side. She had watched Santana's face crumple as the pillow fell from her hands, and even in the darkness of the room she could make out tears in the corner of Santana's eyes, before she had turned to face the wall.
"Rach?" Quinn questioned, deciding that she would get more information from her little sister than she would ever get from Santana. Quinn leaned down to push some of the hair that was cloaking Rachel's face behind her ear, Rachel flinching again when she felt Quinn's soft touch, and Quinn pulled her hand away quickly, not understanding why her little sister was suddenly acting so terrified, after spending at least the first ten minutes of her wakefulness antagonizing Quinn. Quinn wanted to murder Rachel about ninety percent of the time, but that didn't mean that watching Rachel react with such terror to something as non-threatening as Santana throwing a pillow at her wasn't concerning. Quinn turned on the lamp next to her bed, wincing and blinking rapidly as her eyes adjusted to the light. The light seemed to pull Rachel from wherever she had gone to in her head, as she pulled away from Quinn, a blush coloring her cheeks as she slid out of Quinn's bed.
"San, I'm sorry." Rachel mumbled her voice so tiny and apologetic, that Quinn had to strain to even hear her, and Santana just hummed in acknowledgment at Rachel's words, not even turning to look at her. Rachel turned and fled the room then, tears falling down her cheeks once she got into her own room. She hadn't meant to flinch, to make Santana think that she was scared of her, but in the darkness of the room she hadn't seen Santana gearing up to throw a pillow at her but rather Hiram, Hiram raising his hand to her before bringing it down on her cheek. He had only done that once, but Rachel could still feel the stinging pain, the way her teeth had knocked together as her head had been flung violently to the side.
That had been the first time he had ever hit her, and she couldn't really remember why it had happened, maybe she had been whining, or her and Blaine may have been fighting, and he had been apologetic in that moment, falling to his knees in front of her, apologizing, telling her that if she had just listened, if she had just stopped, he wouldn't have had to do that, and that he was so sorry. Rachel had been able to smell the faint aroma of alcohol that clung to his clothes, and his breath as he apologized, pulling her against him, her nose wrinkling at the pungent smell of sweat and alcohol that clung to his clothing, pressing her uninjured cheek to his shirt as she remained stiff in his arms. She had been so shocked that he had hit her that she hadn't even cried, not right away, and she remembered staring at Blaine from her father's arms, seeing the fresh tears on his cheeks wondering if she was supposed to be crying too, and wondering where her mother was, wanting to cry out for her, wanting to know if she had heard what her dad had done. He had released her from his embrace after a few moments, and Blaine had taken her hand, pulling her up the stairs and into his bedroom.
She remembered Blaine pressing a cool washcloth to her cheek, something they had watched both Noah and Santana do for each other countless times on the nights that Blaine and Rachel had hidden with their faces pressed in between the slats on the banister, watching as their dad had berated their older siblings, as he had brought his hands down on their faces, their bodies or anywhere he could reach, one horrible night they had even seen him kick Santana repeatedly in the torso as she lay on the ground. Rachel would often have to press her hand against her mouth in order to prevent herself from screaming, from crying out for her dad to stop, to leave them alone. Sometimes Quinn would catch them hiding in the shadows of the landing, when they were supposed to be hiding on the floor of Quinn and Santana's closet, something that Santana had taught them to do whenever they heard the clinking of glasses, the slurring of words, or their parents' too loud voices, because it was on those nights that Hiram's temper could be incited instantly by something as small as a shoe left in the middle of the floor, or a dirty dish left on the table, or one of her siblings slamming the door too roughly upon arriving home.
She had made Blaine promise then as they sat side by side on Blaine's bed, that he wouldn't tell Santana and Noah that their dad had hit her, because Santana and Noah took the blame for everything that set Hiram off in an attempt to protect them and even as young as Rachel was she wanted to protect them from the knowledge that they couldn't always be there to save them. And when that slap had left a slight discoloration on her cheek, so slight that she couldn't even call it a bruise, and Santana had questioned her about it, she had lied and said that her and Blaine were wrestling and he had accidentally hit her in the face when she had tried to pull away from him. And even though Blaine hadn't wanted to promise not to tell Santana, had begged Rachel to tell them, he had lied to Santana as well even when she scolded him, he had not given in and told the truth. That had been the first time Hiram had hit her, the first time that she had lied to Santana and forced Blaine to do the same, and also the only time Hiram had ever apologized to her.
Rachel sighed as she looked at her bare bed, wanting nothing more than to curl up, and try to forget the pain that flashed in Santana's eyes when Rachel had flinched away from her, or the anger that she saw in her father's eyes seconds before his hand connected with her flesh, because both of those things were playing in her mind on a near constant loop. She wanted to ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach that now Quinn also suspected something had happened to Rachel because Hiram had told her repeatedly what would happen if anyone found out and now Santana knew and Blaine and maybe Quinn and she didn't know what her dad would do if he found out that they knew even if she hadn't been the one to tell them. Rachel slid down against the wall in between her bed and the wall, wrapping herself up in her fuzzy pink blanket that she had been carrying around since she was two, grateful that she had knocked it off of the bed the previous evening so that it remained clean, resting her head against the wall as she listened to the sounds of her siblings moving about the house, knowing that she and Blaine didn't need to get ready for awhile yet, her eyes fluttering closed once again.
Quinn watched Rachel leave the bedroom, her eyes narrowing suspiciously at Rachel's exit, and her apology to Santana. Quinn waited until she heard Rachel's bedroom door close before dragging her gaze to Santana. Santana was still sitting statute still, staring at the wall and Quinn almost thought that she had fallen asleep sitting up.
"S?" Quinn questioned, "What was that?" Santana gave no immediate response, just sighed deeply and tried to hide the fact that she was wiping tears off her face by rubbing her cheek against the soft cotton of her sleep shirt. Concern clouded Quinn's features as she watched Santana struggling to compose herself, because Santana never let anyone see her struggling. "S?"
"What?" Santana snapped, turning to look at Quinn, all traces of tears gone as her eyes flashed dangerously. She saw Quinn's eyes widen, the concern on her face being replaced with an anger of her own, her expression hardening even as Santana deflated, reminding herself that it wasn't Quinn she was mad at, that she was mad at Hiram, that she was mad at herself for scaring Rachel even if she hadn't meant to, "That was nothing, Quinn, okay? Don't worry about it."
"You're a liar," Quinn spat, eyes narrowing, arms crossed over her chest as she glared at Santana, "That wasn't nothing, nothing isn't Rachel practically having a panic attack because you almost hit her with a pillow, nothing isn't you freaking out because Rachel freaked out about you nearly hitting her with a pillow." Santana found herself groaning in frustration because it was way too early to be having this conversation with Quinn, it was too early for all of these conflicting emotions especially since Santana could feel the effects of her lack of sleep.
"I'm serious, Q, what you saw was nothing. Rachel's fine. I'm fine, except now you're giving me a headache." Santana said wearily.
"That's bullshit, Santana!" Quinn all but shouted, her attempts at controlling her tone of voice, causing her words to come out as hiss.
She was so sick of this, sick of Santana and Noah keeping things from her, lying to her in an attempt to protect her, forgetting that she was the one laying in the bed next to Santana's when Hiram came into their room late at night, often pulling Quinn from sleep, causing Quinn to have to listen to Hiram's grunts and Santana's whimpers, forcing herself to stare at the wall, to keep her breathing under control, keep the tears from spilling over, terrified of what would happen if he knew she was awake, the one time that she had rolled over, it was Santana's eyes that she met and she had never been able to forget the shame she saw in Santana's eyes, written across Santana's face, or the way that Santana had frantically mouthed the word "please", a plea to get Quinn to turn away from her, to try and forget what she saw. It was because of this that Quinn went to bed nightly with soft music filtering through the ear buds she had placed in her ears.
"I'm not a little kid, I don't need you to protect me, there is nothing left that you can protect me from." Quinn ignored the hurt that flashed on Santana's face at her last statement, too fueled by anger to care that all Santana had ever tried to do was protect her and Quinn was throwing that in her face, telling her how she had failed at the one thing she had always tried to do, because even though Santana had been able to protect her from bruises and welts, from having Hiram slip into her bed at night, she hadn't been able to protect her from having her innocence stolen in other ways, or from the fear and the helplessness she felt at being kept in the dark about Hiram, or about Shelby, at having to listen to Hiram violating Santana, at allowing Hiram to violate Santana, because even though she knew she should tell someone, had even tried to tell their mom once, but all her mom did was tell her to shut her filthy mouth and that she was lying, and all Santana had done was yell at her, ask her how she could be so stupid and beg her to keep her mouth shut from now on.
"That's not true." Santana murmured her voice shaky as she looked at her hands that she was twisting around each other. Quinn just rolled her eyes as she climbed from her bed not caring that she was making a ridiculous amount of noise as she slammed her dresser drawers open and closed, pulling out her clothes for the day.
"Of course it's true, Santana, or did you forget that I live here too? That I hear things too?" Quinn spat, but felt her anger draining from her as she took in the defeated look on Santana's face,"I could help, Santana, I am not a little kid, I could help you protect them, if you would just tell me what is going on."
Santana looked at Quinn then, the earnestness and conviction causing her to meet Quinn's eyes and even though Quinn was right, and she wasn't a child anymore, and Santana so badly wanted to tell Quinn everything, to let Quinn help her, help them, because Noah was a mess and she was so tired of doing everything on her own, she just couldn't. Because the trust in Quinn's eyes reminded her so much of a much smaller Quinn, arms wrapped around Santana's midsection tightly, tears soaking the material of Santana's shirt where Quinn's face was pressed against her stomach, it had been the first time Hiram had spanked Quinn, one of the only times he had spanked her and she remembered promising Quinn that she would never let Hiram hurt her again, that she would always protect her.
"Quinn, there is nothing going on." Santana repeated, watching as Quinn spun away from her with a muttered "whatever" signifying the end of the conversation, "Just get dressed okay? Coach Sue is going to have our heads if we are late." Quinn didn't respond and Santana knew she was ignoring her, so she left the bedroom to wake Blaine allowing Quinn to continue to seethe, not surprised when she heard the sound of something, a shoe, maybe a book, hit the back of the door after she closed it.
She knew Quinn was more hurt than angry, and she couldn't deny the guilt that she felt because she knew that Quinn felt helpless, and didn't really blame her for feeling that way. Quinn had always felt left out, so obviously different from her siblings, with her blonde hair and hazel eyes and the Lopez last name, given to Quinn by Shelby as a way to prevent Santana and Noah's father from knowing of her infidelity, infidelity that came to light anyways as Quinn grew, her hair turning from jet black at birth to a light brown, and then blonde by her first birthday, her skin remaining multiple shades lighter than both Santana and Noah's, her eyes turning from the strange murky blue of infancy to hazel, it had been the realization of Shelby's infidelity, of her lies that had caused Alejandro to leave. Shelby had never spoken of Quinn's father, had never even told Quinn his name.
It hadn't been until Quinn had started school that she and her siblings had begun to question whether or not they had the same father, and that Shelby had finally told them the truth. If they had never questioned it, they would have figured it out anyways, when Hiram referred to Quinn as Shelby's "little bastard" and had used Quinn's unknown father in the insane theories he had of Shelby cheating on him, made all the more insane by the fact that Shelby could barely get off of the couch most days, either because she was drunk, depressed or in pain or some combination of the three, so she definitely was not leaving the house to cheat on him. As far as Santana could tell the only time she left the house was to pick up or drop off Rachel and Blaine at school, and to drive down the street to the liquor store on the corner.
When Santana walked into Noah and Blaine's room, she was met with the sound of Noah's snores, wondering not for the first time how Blaine managed to sleep through that, and wrinkled her nose at the smell because the boys' room always smelled like sweat and gym socks and the strong cologne that Noah wore way too much of.
"Blaine," Santana whispered, running a hand over Blaine's back and through his tousled curls, "It's time to get up."
"Go 'way." Blaine mumbled, rolling further away from her as he pulled the blanket over his head. Santana bent down, whispering in his ear again, her breathe tickling his ear as he tried to swat at her, Santana chuckling as she dodged his hand, "Santana, leave me alone. It's not even time to get up yet."
"Yes it is, Blaine, you are coming to practice with me and then I am driving you and Rachel to school." Santana said and Blaine pushed himself into a sitting position, rubbing at his eyes.
"Why?" Blaine asked, "Mom always drives us to school, she has too." It was another one of Hiram's ridiculous rules, because all Hiram truly cared about is keeping up appearances, and that meant that Shelby drove them and picked them up from school every day. He had made sure that Blaine and Rachel attended a prestigious private school with quite a few of his colleagues' children and he didn't want them gossiping about his family.
"Well she's sick, so I am taking you to school. Can you get dressed and then go tell Rachel to get dressed?" Blaine shrugged and nodded. She studied Blaine closely, watching for any wincing or flinching, any indication at all that Hiram had been hurting him as well, but she couldn't tell and wasn't exactly ready to hear the answer to her unasked question, not wanting to know how she had yet again failed to protect her siblings. Santana wasn't ready to talk to Rachel yet either, she had only been up for half an hour and she was already drained, and really just wanted to crawl back in bed.
"Rachel?" Blaine called as he pushed open the door to Rachel's bedroom, wanting to announce that he was coming in just in case she was changing or something, but he didn't even see her when he opened her door, seeing her stripped bed and knowing immediately what had happened. He knew about Rachel's nightmares, had heard her screaming sometimes, when the other three hadn't, had even slept in her room to keep them at bay, "Rach?" He found Rachel curled up on the floor of her room, on the side of her bed that was furthest from the door, wrapped up in her pink blanket, her forehead resting against the wall and her eyes closed. He reached out and shook her slightly, her eyes flying open as she scrambled backwards away from him. "I'm sorry, Rach, I'm sorry, it's just me." He straightened up, backing away from her, not wanting to scare her further.
"I'm okay, Blaine," Rachel reassured him as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes, her heartbeat returning to normal, "Why are you dressed for school?"
"Santana said mom is sick, and that she is taking us," Blaine said shrugging, "She told me to come tell you to get dressed."
"Mom's not sick," Rachel said sighing, pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them, and Blaine sat down cross legged in front of her, "San knows about Daddy, Blaine."
"But that's good, Rach, that San knows, she can help, I think." Blaine said hopefully. He had wanted Rachel to tell Santana or Noah or their mom as soon as Hiram had hit her the first time, and she had begged him not tell, and he had agreed even though he hadn't wanted too, and as it had gotten worse, Blaine had frequently begged her to tell someone, anyone, but she always refused. Blaine couldn't help but feel guilty every time he saw a new bruise on Rachel or cowered as he watched Rachel be punished for things he had done, things she had taken the blame for. Even if Rachel was the older twin, he was supposed to be the one that protected her, because he was the boy, because Santana and Noah had told him that when they weren't around it was up to him to take care of Rachel, but it had always been the other way around, it had always been Rachel protecting him, so he had stayed quiet because he didn't want Santana or Noah to be disappointed in him for letting Rachel get hurt, for being to scared to stand up for her, even when Rachel stood up for him. Blaine had always been the more agreeable of the two of them and Rachel had always been the more outspoken one, and the last thing he wanted was for anyone to be disappointed in him.
"No, Blaine, she can't help, she isn't supposed to know." Rachel told him, "He said he would hurt her, hurt me if I told anyone."
"I-I know that, Rachel, but Santana and Noah won't let him hurt you, you know that." Blaine said trying to convince Rachel, but all she did was shrug, and pick at a loose thread on her blanket. Blaine wasn't used to seeing Rachel so sad, so defeated, she was the strong one, the one who stood up to Hiram, "It'll be okay, Rach, you'll see." Blaine said, hugging her as she nodded, pushing herself up off of the floor. She didn't really believe him, couldn't believe him, because she had tried for so long to believe that everything would be okay, but it had become too hard when things hadn't been okay for a long time.
"Yeah, Blaine, it'll be okay." Rachel said agreeing with Blaine, because he needed her to agree with him, because he still needed to believe that everything would be alright, because she knew that he honestly believed that everything would be okay, "I'm gonna get dressed now, okay?" Blaine nodded, offering Rachel one more smile before leaving her room.
When Santana finished showering and getting dressed, she came downstairs to find Blaine sulking as he dunked his Cheerios into his milk viciously, and Brittany sitting on the counter, two travel mugs of coffee next to her, attempting to engage Blaine in conversation but he was too busy scowling at his bowl to respond.
"Coffee!" Santana exclaimed, as she picked up the second cup of coffee, Brittany giggling at her antics, "Brittany Pierce, you are a goddess, this is amazing. How did you get in here?"
"Blaine let me in." Brittany said, and Santana turned to glare at him.
"I knew it was Britt," Santana just continued to glare as Blaine deflated under her gaze, "I knew it was her when I opened the door. 'M not a baby, I can answer a door." Blaine said defensively, once again stabbing at the Cheerios that floated in his bowl.
Quinn entered the kitchen, scowl painted on her face, as she sat down next to Blaine, ruffling his hair as he swatted at her hand. Brittany could tell that something was off that morning, she had been best friends with Santana for years and she knew her and her siblings well enough to tell when something was different. And she could tell that the interactions between the siblings seemed forced, like they were playing a role. She could see that Quinn was scowling at Santana and refused to look at her, but Quinn and Santana fought all of the time so that itself wouldn't have been concerning but the way that Santana's eyes were full of remorse and something else that Brittany didn't recognize the few times she did try to make eye contact with Quinn was concerning as was the way she gazed off into the distance every so often, her eyes becoming unfocused, the only one of them who seemed unchanged was Blaine, because the sulking and whining was normal for him when he had to be up early and really didn't want to be.
She knew better than to ask Santana about it, to ask if her if everything was okay, because the one time she had broached the subject, Santana had stopped talking to her for a week. So she let Santana have her secrets, and she never asked why Santana couldn't stay the night at her house most of the time, or why Quinn had to hang out at Brittany's on the nights that Santana worked or why on the few occasions where Santana did stay the night, she sometimes woke up screaming. She figured that that was her way of helping, because by not asking, she figured she made things a little bit easier for Santana, because Santana could just be Santana with her, and not have to worry about formulating some lie or half truth about things she didn't want to talk about.
"Britt, can you do me a favor? Can you watch Blaine and Rachel for me while I work tonight?" Santana asked, and Brittany turned to Santana with a quizzical expression, but Santana wasn't looking at her, she was staring at Blaine, who had finally finished mutilating his cereal and was just swirling his spoon in the leftover milk.
"Sure, San, but what about your mom and Hiram?" Brittany asked.
"He's working, and she's sick." Santana said, shrugging. Blaine opened his mouth to protest, probably to remind her once again of one of Hiram's many rules, but Santana just held up a hand to silence him, "Where's Rachel? We're going to be late." Both Blaine and Quinn shrugged in response, and Santana rolled her eyes, running back upstairs to find Rachel shutting the door to their mom's bedroom, a guilty expression on her face when she noticed Santana standing next to her.
"I-I wanted to say bye to her," Rachel stated, and she had wanted to say bye to her mom, and also check to see if Santana was lying about their mom being sick, which from the aroma of alcohol that had been wafting off of Shelby, she knew she was hungover, but Shelby had driven them to school with a hangover before, she had also seen the bruise on Shelby's cheek and had attempted to wake her up but had only received incoherent grunts in response, so she pressed a kiss to her mother's uninjured cheek before leaving the room,"She didn't wake up."
"I told you she wasn't feeling well." Santana reminded her, and Rachel nodded curtly, even though she knew Santana was lying to her, because she knew Shelby had been drinking but that didn't mean she was sick and Rachel knew that Santana was driving them to school because of her, because of what she had seen and because of what Hiram had done, she felt that she could no longer trust Shelby, "I'm sorry about earlier, Rach."
"I know, San, it-it wasn't you, I know you would never hurt me." Rachel said, squeezing Santana's hand as they walked down the stairs. Santana nodding and swallowing around the lump in her throat, once again struck by how unfair it was that he had hurt Rachel so badly that even a playful gesture could be seen as threatening by Rachel, Santana smoothed the tension from her face and the sadness from her the best that she could as she joined the rest of her siblings and Brittany in the kitchen.
She handed Rachel a granola bar and juice box telling her she would have to eat on the way or in the stands as she ushered them out of the house. Quinn was still scowling at her every time their eyes met, and Blaine was still whining about having to go with them, having to be up so early and why couldn't Noah just take him to school, and Santana laughed at that because Noah barely took himself to school, there was no way she would make him responsible for taking Blaine to school. She watched as Rachel walked gingerly in front of her, her gait slow and measured as she took care not jostle her backpack too much, barely able to hide the small winces that graced her features when it did come into contact with the sensitive flesh of her back.
Santana watched as Blaine stopped Rachel, reaching for her backpack and whispering something in her ear. She knew then that Blaine knew about Hiram, about what Hiram had been doing to Rachel, and she wondered why he hadn't told anyone, why he hadn't confided in Santana or Noah, because Blaine was not known for keeping things to himself, which worried her, because what else could they possibly be hiding from her? Santana made a note to talk to him about it later, when she was able to bring her emotions back under control and wouldn't end up frightening Blaine by yelling at him for not telling her what was happening.
They were late to practice so Coach Sue had made them run laps, before berating them for bringing their younger siblings to practice, not wanting to hear Santana's excuses for why she had to bring them. She knew Coach Sue was going to be pissed at her for bringing them, because she had forbidden it the last time, reminding Santana that she was head cheerleader and she couldn't have her head cheerleader distracted during practice by the hobbits. Santana hadn't argued, she was too tired to argue with Sue, so she had just nodded, promising that it wouldn't happen again, even though she knew it would, not really caring how much it pissed Sue off. After practice, she drove Blaine and Rachel halfway across town to their school, getting them there with a few minutes to spare, reminding them that Brittany would pick them up after school and that they would stay with Brittany and Quinn and Brittany's younger sister, Emily that night and she would see them after work.
They both looked at her with wide eyes, and pale faces, even as she tried to reassure them that it would be okay, knowing that they were fearful of how Hiram would react if he found out that they were at Brittany's rather than at home where they were supposed to be. She had barely made it back to McKinley for her first period class, running through the hallways so she wouldn't be tardy, nearly skidding on the slick floor when she got distracted for a split second by the sight of Noah sauntering across the parking lot, shocked that he had even made it to school that day.
Santana had barely made it through school that day, she had fallen asleep in two of her classes and had been sent to the nurse after falling asleep in the second class. She had reassured the nurse and her teacher that she wasn't sick, just that she hadn't gotten enough sleep the night before, and they had thankfully let it go. She hadn't engaged in conversation with the other cheerleaders during lunch, just pushed her salad around her plate, too nauseous from lack of sleep and worry to even eat any of it. She had glanced around the cafeteria hoping to catch a glimpse of Noah, because she wanted to talk to him, needed to try to tell him some of what was going on.
Brittany had watched her with concern throughout the day and although Santana tried to reassure her that she was fine, that she was just tired, she knew Brittany didn't believe her. And Santana knew she wasn't fine, she couldn't get the picture of Rachel's back out of her head or stop replaying the conversation with Shelby over in her mind, wondering what she could have done differently, what she could have said differently to make Shelby understand, to keep Rachel from being hurt. She couldn't stop thinking about how she could confront Blaine, how she could ask Blaine if Hiram had been hurting him, without Blaine falling apart like Rachel had when Santana had seen what Hiram had done to her.
As soon as school let out, she had changed out of her Cheerios uniform into the plain khaki pants and white polo shirt that she was forced to wear to her job at a local diner. She pasted a fake smile on her face as she spoke with the customers, resisted the urge to put her fist in the faces of the ones who talked down to her, dodged unwanted advances from the customers and a few of the busboys who hit on her almost every shift she had, but it had been a good distraction and had kept her busy enough that she didn't have time to think about anything, not about Blaine or Rachel and how they were doing at Brittany's and whether or not Shelby had tried to contact them. Santana had left a note for her on her nightstand before they left for school that morning letting her know where the younger kids would be and what time Santana got off of work. She didn't have time to think about Noah and where he was and whether or not he was being safe because it was Friday night, and she hadn't been able to talk to him school that day although she had meant to and didn't know where he was.
Her shift at the diner was only four hours long and by eight-thirty she was pulling off her apron in the break room and counting her tips. Her shift had been too short for her to even really get a break, so she didn't have a chance to check her phone until she pulled it, her purse and her keys out of her locker. Her stomach sank, her nausea returning when she saw that she had multiple missed calls from Brittany, a couple of texts as well asking her to call as soon as she could, and she just knew something was wrong, because Brittany knew she couldn't answer her phone when she was working and with such a short shift, Brittany knew she wouldn't have a break, so she wouldn't have called unless something happened. Santana felt so stupid for not keeping her phone in her pocket like she usual did, but she didn't think she needed to, because Blaine, Rachel and Quinn were supposed to be safe with Brittany until she got home.
One of her co-workers found her in the break room, frozen in front of her locker, staring at her phone with shaking hands and an ashen face, trying to decide whether she should return Brittany's calls or just find out what was going on when she got to the Pierce's. Brittany's last call had come in at 8:10 which was only twenty minutes ago and it would only take Santana about ten minutes to get to Brittany's house from the diner. She was shaken out of her thoughts when her co-worker placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, asking her if everything was alright, Santana hadn't answered, she had just shoved past him, making a mental note to apologize to him the next time she saw him as she sprinted to her car. Santana's hands were shaking so badly that she fumbled and dropped her keys twice, cursing under her breath, before she was able to get her door unlocked, and the keys in the ignition. She drew in a few deep breaths, willing her heart rate to slow down and her hands to stop shaking, because her getting into an accident because she was driving when upset was going to solve nothing.
It took another five minutes before she finally felt that she was okay to drive, her hands only trembling slightly and heart rate having slowed considerably, repeating to herself that everything was okay like a mantra, not caring that she probably looked insane talking to herself as she pulled out of the parking lot, trying to push aside the fear and panic that were threatening to overwhelm her every time thoughts about what she could possibly find out when she got to Brittany's attempted to creep into her mind, turning the radio on as loud as it could go in an attempt to distract herself as she made her way through Lima and the Pierce home.
She breathed a sigh of relief when she pulled up to the curb in front of the Pierce home and didn't immediately notice anything out of the ordinary, both Mr. and Mrs. Pierce's cars were in the driveway, the porch was bathed in soft yellow light, and she could see the TV flickering in the darkness of the window Santana knew to be the living room. She sat in the car for a few moments trying to regain her composure and knowing that just because everything appeared to be normal, it didn't mean that it was, sending a silent prayer up to a God that she wasn't sure she believed in for everything to be okay, before climbing from her car.
Sorry, I left it on a cliffhanger, most of the next chapter is written. But anyways let me know what you think.
