A/N: I just wanna thank everyone for all the positive reviews and response in general. You guys gave me a lot to think about and it was all really helpful. Anyway, R&R&enjoy!

Santana's POV:

Why am I breathing? No, I'm not supposed to be breathing. I'm not supposed to be thinking. I'm not supposed to be anything!

My eyes were clenched shut as I woke up. This wasn't supposed to happen, I'm not supposed to be here. I don't want to be here. If I never open my eyes I'll be able to avoid reality.

I can't even successfully kill myself. I'm a failure, pathetic. I'm angry.

I need to deal with how angry I am. I'm gritting my teeth and clenching my fists. At the base of the bed I must be in I feel some sort of board. I kick it. Something next to me flinches, with my eyes closed I hadn't noticed I was alone.

"Santana it's okay," It's Quinn's voice soothing me. I feel a hand sweep the hair from my face.

Why is she here? She must have seen the note. She must hate me.

"I know you're awake, so open your eyes and look at me," she's trying to coax me. Her voice is so soft and gentle, I can't refuse her.

I let my eyes open for the first time and let reality flood into me. This is a hospital room. There's a drip on my arm and bandages wrapped thick around my wrist. This was definitely all real, not some sort of obscure afterlife. Quinn's lying next to me. She looks terrible but beautiful at the same time. She's been crying, that much is clear.

I made her hurt and now I have to be here to see it.

"Santana I just want you to know that I don't care about any of the things you think I would be mad about," Quinn blurted out. I froze at these words, these words I'd needed to hear for so long but she hadn't known that she needed to say them. "I'm gonna be here for you for a long time, whether you like it our not. In fact we could be there for each other because we're scared of the same things. We just reacted to them in very different ways."

What does that mean? Scared of being herself? Do her parents hurt her?

"Santana please say something to me," Quinn pleaded. The look in her eyes told me that she thought I was angry with her. But I couldn't talk, that was my last barrier from the world and I wasn't about to give it up any time soon. But I wasn't mad, I don't know what I was but it wasn't mad.

"It's okay," she muttered in defeat. "I'll just go I understand."

She started to get up but I didn't want her to go. I reached out and grabbed her hand. Quinn turned to me looking baffled.

"You want me to stay?"

I nodded and she lay back down next to me. My hand didn't leave her and we let our fingers entwine before she looked at me again.

"Santana, say something. Anything," her brow was furrowed as she asked.

I shook my head and squeezed her hand tighter. It was like she was keeping me stable with the simple gesture.

"Do you not want to say anything?"

I nodded at her as I looked straight into her eyes. Maybe she could understand why if she looked into my eyes.

"San," she began carefully. "I know that I can't make you speak but you're gonna have to eventually. I'm gonna need someone to gossip with when we get back to school," she's trying to lighten the mood. It's nice.

"You're voice is too important to go unheard. Try and remember that."

That strikes a chord with me. Someone actually placing genuine value on my opinion is foreign. Even just the notion that they would place value on it is completely unfathomable to me. And she said it, she of all people was the first person to say that my voice matters. But I still don't want to speak, I can't just let the world flow back into me that easily. Instead I keep holding her hand, she doesn't pull away.

Quinn's POV:

Why isn't she talking? Is she scared? Is this like, some sort of defense mechanism that people who try to kill themselves have? I just want to hear her voice.

I had a million questions but no one to answer them. Santana was scaring me but I didn't let it show, she didn't need another thing to worry about. I let her hold my hand and layed with her in silence. I almost fell asleep there again but my mom's voice echoed through the room and my energy returned.

"Quinnie, Brittany's in the waiting room," she said softly. "Can you go talk to her for a bit? I wanna talk to Santana about the arrangements we've made."

"Okay mom, can I talk to you privately outside for a minute first?" I had to explain Santana's behavior to her.

"Of course," my mom walked back into the hall and I followed her. The second I was out of the room I felt myself start to cry again. I'd been crying to much, I'm ready to be done but I couldn't stop it.

"Mom she's not talking!" My voice cracked as I spoke. "She doesn't want to or something I don't know but she just won't."

My mom pulled me into a hug, "It's okay Quinnie the doctors were talking to me and said that people react differently when they have a failed suicide attempt. I guess Santana's just shutting down. But baby we're gonna help her, she's gonna get a counselor and she has us."

I straightened myself and wiped the tears from my eyes, "You're right, she'll be okay. She has to be..."

"Of course she will, she'll have the support," my mom's voice dropped before continuing. "Did you tell her about your... feelings for her?"

My eyes dropped, "No, I don't think that would be smart. Not yet, not until she's better." I had wanted to tell her so badly, but that wouldn't have been fair. It would have been too much for her.

"I think that's for the best, maybe some day you two can have something but right now Santana probably can't handle that sort of information. Now go talk to Brittany, she doesn't quite understand what's happening. The poor girl looks so lost." I nodded and my mom placed a kiss on my forehead before going to Santana's room.

Walking back to the waiting room was hard. I was going to have to explain what happened to Brittany and explain how Santana was acting. Brittany doesn't understand that people can be hurting like that, she's too happy and honest to. She's just... Brittany.

And there she was sitting in the very seat I'd been sitting when I was waiting for news of Santana. For the first time since yesterday's events I had a genuine smile. She had her large stuffed duck with her. She'd had that since she was just a little kid. She looked up at me when she heard my footsteps, but she didn't smile. Brittany always smiles when someone she know walks into a room. It broke my heart to see her looking sad.

"Hey B," I sat next to her and leaned my head against hers. "How are you?"

"I'm confused Quinn," she said. Her voice was low and lacking it's usual bubbly quality. "What's happening?"

Crap, that's the one thing I didn't want her to say. But it's an inevitable question.

"Santana was really sad B. She didn't want to be sad anymore and she didn't know how to stop being sad. So she thought that she couldn't be alive anymore," I tried to explain it simply, not wanting to overwhelm Brittany or myself. It wouldn't help her if I started crying hysterically again.

"But Santana never told me she was sad. She never said anything was wrong."

I sighed. "I know she didn't. I didn't know either. And that made her even sadder. She thought she couldn't tell people why she was sad and it just made her feel even worse. I think she felt alone."

"But I'm her best friend, she's supposed to tell me when something's wrong," Brittany was almost pleading.

"Everyone knew Santana was bad with feelings and stuff. She put up a front and acted like... well... a bitch so people wouldn't question her."

"Oh," Brittany trailed off for a moment before brightening up. "Well I brought her my duck. Whenever I'm sad I hug my duck and I feel better, so she won't feel as sad anymore if she has it."

I smiled again at the girls sweetness, "That's awesome Brit, she's gonna love it."

Shit I have to tell her about the whole not talking thing.

"Before you go see her you have to know something. Santana obviously went through something really big. She's putting up a big wall as a response to everything that's happened."

"What's she doing?" Brittany asked.

"She doesn't want to talk Brit," I explained. "So when you see her she's not gonna say anything. So don't get freaked out. Just talk to her anyway, she'll listen. She just won't say anything back."

"Oh, okay," Brittany furrowed her brow and was thinking hard.

Before I had a chance to keep talking my mom walked back into the room. She looked worn out and worried. She looked like everyone I'd seen lately.

"Hey girls," she put on a fake smile. "Brittany you can go see her now if you want."

Brittany nodded eagerly and followed a the nurse station attendant down the hall, duck in hand. My mom sighed as she watched them go before coming back over to me.

"Quinn we should go home," she held out a hand, knowing I was about to complain. "No 'buts', you need to go rest. You need to eat you need to change clothes you need to sleep in your own bed. And more importantly you need to go to school tomorrow. The rest of the glee club is worried sick and they'd feel better seeing you and quite frankly I think you'd feel better seeing them. Then Santana will come home on Saturday and you can spend as much time with her as you please. But until then she's gonna need to do some evaluations with doctors and start some counseling sessions."

Her face was stern but soft and caring. I knew there was no use in trying to argue. I also knew she right about everything but it hurt to think that I would have to go a whole day without seeing her.

I just nodded and got up, letting my mom lead me out of the hospital.