Author's Note:
I have been missing in action lately, and that's mainly because I was busy with work and Nanowrimo. I finished the challenge, and I published my first original novel: Villainous.
In the meantime, I've been typing this up slowly. I'd like to say thank you to all the patient people waiting on this update. I was planning on updating this in it's entirety. However, at the rate I was typing it may have taken another month before I could post. I have received so many questions about this fic and if I was updating. Enough of them that I decided that I could break up what I had and post it as it came.
I apologize for the wait; and hopefully it was worth it.
This is still a trigger fic. Proceed with caution.
Warnings: Rape, Violence, Bullying, and graphic depictions of a traumatic event.
Chapter 3
Evidence. There is so much of it in his apartment he knows he only has the time it takes for Santana to walk to Lima General. He nearly runs to the living room. Shards of glass and blood and bodily secretions. He starts with remnants of beer bottles. His head is throbbing but the fear propels him into motion anyway. If the cops found his place like this- there would be no trial. He would go straight to jail. Maybe he should flee instead- get a head start. Maybe Santana would talk herself out of telling.
He shakes his head.
No. This is his home and he won't let her run him out of it. People wouldn't believe he is capable of doing something like this. They'd assume things about Santana that could easily make it believable that she's lying...even though it would be him that was the liar. He goes to the kitchen and he grabs the bleach, the broom and dustpan, and a large trash bag. He sweeps the shards of glass up, throws away the bottles on the floor (he wipes the rim of the bottle that has Santana's blood on it with bleach). He tosses everything away that's damaged. The rug beneath his coffee table goes into the trash as well. He wipes her blood away with cleaner in hopes there's nothing left behind.
The last thing he throws away the belt he used to tie her hands.
He gets nauseous then; the belt must have rubbed Santana's wrists raw; bits of skin and dried blood litter his favorite belt with guilty reminders. He barely makes it to the bathroom to heave up most of the food (and alcohol) from the day before. He leans on the toilet for a moment, wondering how far this would have to go...how much of this he could stand without breaking. He can't remember certain things from the night before. Mostly he remembers his outrage.
He cleans the shower with bleach. He throws away the sheets and the towel Santana bled on. When he's finished, he showers. Standing under the spray he feels the grime from yesterday fall bare at his feet. He sees the pink hue of her blood on his shaft; mingling with the semen he probably left inside her (she has to be on birth control...with a reputation like the one she has- he convinces himself not to worry about that). He can smell her on his face. He almost doesn't remember why. When he closes his eyes his mind goes to his crimes and he remembers how limp her body was beneath him...how dry.
He remembers pulling out of her angry- mad her body didn't comply to what he needed to do to her. He remembers diving in- swiping up and down her folds in perverse frustration, trying to make her wet enough to get him off. The shame he feels now was absent the night before. He can remember how she felt wrapped around his shaft- clenching and tight.
He feels like a savage at the response his penis makes at the memory of her.
The first tear that falls is camouflaged by the spray of the shower. More fall, sounds follow. He falls to the floor of his bath tub and he sobs-he cries for the sins he's committed against the girl; he prays he'll be forgiven. He stands when he realizes that there is no time for his tears. And he gets out of the shower and dresses with intentions of burning everything in that trash bag before the police get the warrant to search his things.
He has to come up with something believable. He went to the bar the night before. Found her there. There were witnesses to attest to that. She'd been drinking- they had a pact. He wasn't sober enough to drive her home, so he took her to his apartment to sleep it off. He left her on the couch.
Her fake I.D. is still in his pants. He rifles through the trash bag until he finds the soiled clothing; happy that he finds the laminated card. He realizes then that she's wearing his clothes. He'll tell them he gave them to her to sleep in. When he came home she was still drunk. She came on to him; but he refused her. Angry- she left. He hopes there are no traces of him inside her. He can't remember how many times they- how many times he came last night. And if any of them were inside of her.
The shame creeps across his skin like a cool breeze.
He pushes it aside (he'll have a lifetime to hate himself if the police believe his story). He grabs his car keys and a bottle of aspirin on the way out the door. He knows the perfect place to burn everything in the bag. He hopes there is enough time before the police know to come looking for him.
He hopes he hasn't ruined her.
000 0000 000
She crumbles in pain when she slams his door behind her. She doesn't need the false bravado once she leaves his apartment. She's disoriented and dizzy and she can't shake the feeling that she'll throw up. Everywhere hurts in a way she never thought possible. She grits her teeth-the pain would fade. She could heal. She needed to find a way to the hospital. The clothes he gave her smells like him. She wants to rip it off her skin. But she feels naked as she walks...like everything that happened the night before was written in big bold letters across her chest.
What she can't remember from the hazy parts of her mind are the scariest things she can imagine. Even scarier than all the things she knows he did to her. She hopes silently she never remembers. But she needs to know...if she is going to go through with reporting him.
She needs to call someone.
But the only names that cross her mind are people at the opposite end of burned bridges. She didn't want to call her brother. Or her mother. She didn't want them to see her this way. Sullied. Used. She needed to get fixed up and file a report and then she'll call her parents. The walk to the hospital from his neighborhood would normally take her ten minutes. It takes her a half hour, a constant grimace, and small...unbearably painful steps. One foot in front of the other, pain shooting from places she didn't want to think about until she is standing in front of the emergency bay doors.
The knot on her head is the first thing she notices in the reflection of the automatic doors. Blood vessels are broken in her left eye beneath it. Fingerprints are bruised into the skin around her neck. She could feel all the places his hands had bruised across her body. All the teeth marks beneath the clothing that smells of him. The doors slide open when she trips the sensor, and her visage disappears and she struggles across the threshold.
She needs to call someone.
Shock isn't the word for what she's feeling. She doesn't remember anything that happens after the nurses station. She winds up in a room, on a bed that's too cold and a hospital gown that shows too much of her marred skin. She hates Schuester more than anything she's ever hated in her life. The nurse who takes her blood has sad eyes. Santana doesn't want to be pitied. She looks away when the doctor comes in, saying things she can't hear over the screaming in her head.
She forces it out. She shuts down the thoughts. The questions.
"What?"
The doctor stops whatever diatribe of procedure she is on to address her.
"We need permission to administer a rape kit. We had to call your guardian to do so. Your mother is on her way. Due to the severity of your bleeding, she gave us consent to begin the process. We have collected your clothing. The police will be by after your pelvic exam- and if you so choose to report this, they will be here to take your formal statement.
She nods. For the first time that day, tears prick the corners of her eyes.
The stirrups are daunting. The nurses hands are warm. The doctor's latex smells too strong. The doctor's hands against the insides of her thighs burn against her flesh. It reminds her of something that propels her into her own head.
His voice in her ear, his breath against the shell of it. "You're so tight- wouldn't have expected it from a slut like you." He is driving in and out with force, burning friction tearing apart her insides.
She wants to stop remembering. She needs the feelings to go away.
Flashes of things she can't remember hit her like an old projector movie.
Flash.
He's between her thighs. Her hands behind her back. She can hear her own groaning. She's out of it. She can't fight him. Or kick him. He reemerges with a sticky face. She feels him slide in again with ease.
Flash.
She can't breathe around his girth. He's inside her mouth. Stroking without pause; his hand gripping her hair in his fist.
Flash.
Her face is on the floor and her hips are tilted upward. Something unfamiliar is happening. Something hard and unmoving is moving inside somewhere different.
Flash.
She's throwing up. Onto the hospital floor, the nurse with the warm hands rubs her back. The doctor pushes away from her open legs. She finishes, exhausted. And she succumbs to darkness.
000 0000 000
He watches it burn. The glass. Everything that might link him to Santana. He burns his fingertips in the process, near the barrel fire as he tosses in the shirt he wore to the abandoned building. He found the place one night Puck called in a favor. He'll tell the police that it happened days ago. His prints might fit. But they won't match. He thinks back to what Santana said about his teeth marks.
He has a nail file in his car. He scratches it against the two teeth next to his two front ones until they slant downward. The drive home is quick and unforgettable. He takes another aspirin and falls asleep on the couch.
He tries not to dream.
000 0000 000
She wakes up to a room full of people. Her mother is crying in a chair beside her, her brother is in the corner, shouting into the phone at their father. The nurse with the warm hands is gone, and an older nurse with grey hair checks her chart. There is a police officer waiting in the door way, talking to a woman with bright red hair. The redhead carries a folder, and she tells the police officer that she's just the counselor. When the nurse realizes she's awake, she hushes the room and tells everyone to leave except her mother.
"You passed out. We did the pelvic exam after Nurse Sealy cleaned you up. You have stitches. You were torn both vaginally and anally. You...you lost quite a bit of blood but we think you'll be ok. We collected samples and we are getting them analyzed as soon as possible. We will test for any sexually transmitted diseases. We also brought you some documentation for the morning after pill. Read it over- you have the next 24 hours for full effectiveness. We have also documented all the teeth marks, contusions, finger print marks and bruises. It'll hurt for quite some time. Using the bathroom and washing may require assistance. Your shoulder is dislocated and you have a few small fractures in your wrists. Officer Trento is waiting outside. If you're ready to give your statement, I will send her in."
She nods, trying to process the information and force the bile in her stomach to stay.
"I'm ready."
If she doesn't do this now, she never will.
Officer Trento enters the room with her tiny notepad.
"Do you know who did this to you?"
"Yes. Yes I do. William Schuester."
000 0000 000
The banging wakes him up. It's hard and heavy and he doesn't remember until suddenly he does and he sits up and glances at the clock. It's nearly midnight. He fixes his hair as best he can and he goes to answer the door.
"William Schuester, we are here to search your residence. Here is the warrant. You've been accused of rape. Our team have the legal documents to acquire any evidence from your person, your residence and your vehicle."
The officer walks in without invitation, and another follows him inside.
"I'm officer Trento. I'm here to take your statement."
He tries to look shocked. He leads the petite woman over to his dining table.
"What's this about? I've never. I would never rape anyone. Where are these accusations coming from?"
"Where were you last night, Mr. Schuester?"
"I went to a bar last night." He has to play this right. He has to act like he has nothing to hide. "I saw one of my students there actually. Brought her back here after giving her a lecture on underaged drinking. I had been drinking myself- bad breakup- I couldn't take her home so I gave her some of my clothes and told her to sleep it off." The officer stopped writing.
"The student's name?"
"Santana Lopez. Here," he reached into his back pocket and took her fake I. from it, "I was planning on giving her parents a phone call this morning. I woke up feeling not too hot so I decided to stay home from work."
Officer Trento nods skeptically at him.
"Would anyone be able to verify that you stayed at the bar and for how long?"
"The bartender, I'm sure. And the woman I talked to last night...Brenda, was her name."
She nods again.
"What happened after you left the bar?"
Will pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Well, Santana was still awake and very intoxicated by the time I got in. She actually," he chuckles and nervously rubs the back of his neck, "she actually made a pass at me. It's happened before- a few times. Last time it happened the girl came to my apartment and made dinner with my ex wife."
He chuckles again for good measure. Officer Trento looks annoyed enough that he lets the chuckle taper off into awkwardness.
"Well...obviously, I declined. Santana got quite angry and stormed out. I almost went after her but... I thought better of it. She had her phone and everything. I stayed in and drank a bit more. Woke up this morning late for work. But I - I didn't go back out last night. And I didn't bring Brenda home. Brenda- is she the person who accused me of assault because... I know I had to leave and everything but I would... I would never."
Officer Trento nods again, pursing her lips.
"Actually, the person making the accusation is a minor. I'm going to send a tech over. She's going to swab for DNA, take your fingerprints, nail clippings and a teeth mold. Is there anything you'd like to make clear now, Mr. Schuester? Anything you might want to tell us about what happened last night?"
The tone in her voice hints that she knows he's lying through his teeth. He swallows as quietly as he can under her scrutiny and he shakes his head, feigning shock.
"I don't know what you're hinting at officer. But no. Nothing happened last night accept me stopping an underaged girl from drinking illegally. I love my glee kids like they are mine. I would never do anything to hurt them. Send over your tech. Then finish your business and leave my house."
He did his best to look offended.
000 0000 000
Two weeks. It took two weeks for her stitches to dissolve. She'd been in the hospital for the first week, the redheaded counselor's name was Jenna; and she kept trying to get her to talk about her feelings and all the bullshit that's happened since that night. Of course, she didn't want to. She still doesn't. She tried her best to forget every detail that haunted her thoughts from the night Will Schuester...did what he did to her.
Since the...incident, officer Trento has been to her house almost every day. The first day, she came to tell Santana that Schuester had been formally suspended from work until trial. The second day, she came to tell her that the DNA that had been recovered was inconclusive-the most they could decipher from what wasn't washed away was that if it wasn't Will Schuester, it was definitely a close male relative. The third day, she told Santana that the bite marks didn't match precisely- and that any attorney could easily get it thrown out. The fourth day, she told Santana that because he burned his hands, the fingerprints wouldn't be admissible in court. The fifth day Trento showed up, she encouraged Santana to move forward with trial...even with the lack of evidence. There had been holes in his story- gaping ones. Officer Trento knew she could get it out of him, and if not her, then definitely a lawyer. There had been liquor in Santana's system. There had been liquor in his as well. By the sixth day, officer Trento had informed her that Schuester was being allowed back. And by the seventh day, Santana was close to recanting.
No one from school had come to visit. At first, she assumed that it was because everyone hated her. Her mother told her later that she forbid it- because Santana needed to rest and not think about anyone other than herself. But Santana had argued about it since she'd been allowed home. She was missing so many pieces of that night that it wouldn't leave her alone. Her body was torn and broken- she couldn't be around a man without being terrified-she would never be the same.
Schuester had to pay for that.
Tomorrow is her first day back at school. She's nervous. Lima is too small for people not to make the connection. She expected everyone would know. And just like Schuester said...no one would believe her.
000 0000 000
They found his semen in a few places he hadn't thought to clean. The underside of his coffee table- behind the couch. But that didn't matter because it's his house. There were traces of Santana's bodily fluids in two places in his apartment...one place was the bathroom-the other was his bed. They didn't know if it was blood, or something more intimate. Everything was inconclusive. Luckily...it was all they could find. He'd been suspended from working until the investigation ended.
At least Figgins had been surprised. He suspended him cordially, promising his position when the accusations were proven false. With all the evidence almost stricken from the record, two weeks had been long enough to let things blow over. He could return to work on the stipulation that he stay at least one hundred feet from Santana Lopez.
Which definitely wouldn't be hard for him.
He's going to be teaching from a classroom on the opposite end of the school and away from Santana at all costs. He isn't allowed to head glee until the trial, but Emma has filled his shoes in the meantime.
His guilt is all consuming.
He dreams of her each night. Bits and pieces he hasn't quite remembered drift back to him in sleep. Unsettling things- like the noises her body made; the sounds of her voice drifting through her unconsciousness telling him it hurt...to stop. He dreams of all the blood. He wakes up the same way every night, twisted in the sheets and crying... apologizing to the girl with sorries she'll never hear aloud.
He wakes up every night shamefully erect.
His body remembers her. He aches in a way he's never ached for a woman...for this child. He can't tell if being inside her is all it took or if he got off from the power. Knowing he did every deprave thing he'd ever wanted to, to her. He feels like karma is torturing him personally. And he knows he deserves it. He remembers the bruises he left on her; bruises he left from moving her dead weight. Bite marks he left on her body for the countless times he raped her. He remembers when he couldn't get it up anymore and he...and he did what he did. He had been so angry at her. At everyone. He wanted her to hurt in the worst way. He blacked out in anger at the time-but now he's remembering and he hates himself more every day. And every night he wakes up whimpering her name or soiling the sheets from the memory of being inside her, he almost turns himself in.
He's a coward.
He should turn himself in. But now it seems like he'll get away with it. Officer Trento is on his heels, following him- asking the same questions she asked in the beginning. His alibi checked out. People saw him leave with Santana; they saw him come back alone. Brenda's name was actually Bonnie- and she verified that she and him talked for almost three hours and that "The poor sap just wouldn't take a hint". He had washed away most of the evidence that would have sent him to jail. But he isn't stupid. He knows the cop wants to catch him slipping.
He makes sure he tears up when she tells him the extent of Santana's injuries...he doesn't have to pretend to be mortified when she shows him vague pictures of bite marks and the scars her wrists will be littered with for life. He cries and puts on the best show of his life when he sees how cruel the world could be.
He's the only cruel one.
It feels like there are two people inside him now. The monster that raped one of his students. And the monster that lied about it.
Now it seems like the only one to judge him will be God. Tomorrow will be his first day back. He looks stressed. His lack of sleep has him on edge. He hopes he can continue with the facade.
000 0000 000
She gets to school early. Earlier than all the other kids and teachers-just so she doesn't have to walk the halls with all of them staring. It's the first time in her life she doesn't want to be the center of attention. She wears her cheerleading track suit to school, the one with the long sleeved jacket to cover up the marks on her wrists. Her cheek is still a brush of purple; her eye is still puffy and sore. She wears a turtleneck and she slicks her hair into her mandatory ponytail.
She likes the familiarity of her shield.
She sits on the field for a while, until shadows approach her from behind and she sees Sue there, tall and powerful. She sits down beside her and they watch the sky for a while, over the football field, in silence. When Santana thinks she can't take the tension anymore; Sue speaks.
"I'm not going to ask you if it's true. I know you, Lopez. And I know you'd never lie about something like this. I'm going to be here- I have eyes everywhere. He gets close to you...he speaks to you...he even sends you a note- I will know about it. And if you need anything at all, Santana, you don't hesitate."
She nods but doesn't turn to Sue. She feels her hands grip the bleachers and she tries so hard not to cry. Sue leaves her with her thoughts soon after. She watches the grass on the field for a while and before first period she composes herself and gets ready for the day.
The day starts with the staring. Everyone knows. Some people go as far as to call her names when she walks by. Santana is almost afraid of every slushy that she sees but none of the people holding it are bold enough to throw it. When she makes it to her locker for second period, she sees it from far away- blurry until she's close enough to find focus.
LIAR.
It's worse than any word she could have thought of. She takes a breath and she tries as hard as she can not to cry. She won't cry. She gets her things with everyone watching and she slams her locker shut before she scowls at the lot of them. They scurry and she clutches her books and heads to Biology.
She sits next to Rachel and Tina in this class; and she is almost so sure there will be some sort of backlash. The teachers all know the situation; but it won't stop most of the verbal violence that has commenced throughout the day.
She gets there early. Rachel comes in immediately after- shocked that anyone beat her to class. She sits in her usual seat. And she stays quiet like she normally does when it comes to Santana. Tina comes in after her, and she sends a scowl her way that makes her stomach hurt. She guesses this is how it would be. She might as well never go to glee again.
Rachel folded a piece of paper on her desk. Santana stares at it for a while before giving in to look. When it's flat, Santana's heart warms up.
I believe you...
She doesn't let Rachel see, but she smiles a little.
000 0000 000
Finn is waiting for him by his office door. Had he had any say, he thinks it should have been Emma- but he unlocks his door and waves him in anyway. He sits down at his desk and crosses his hands. Finn remains standing, pacing a groove into the floor with his hands unsure on his waist.
"I was going to ask you if it was true. But then I knew it'd be offensive. I mean...you're Mr. Schue. You're one of the only teachers here who gives a crap about any of us. That only made me think about Santana. She took my virginity you know. And she didn't even care after. She's always been a slut and I know that sometimes-"
"Finn... I'm going to stop you there. let's not...let's not bring her up. I'm sure this will all be straightened out. I thank you for your support, Finn but right now I'm just tired."
Finn sits, finally, and nods at him. This kid doesn't know the kind of man he looks up to and that kills Will. He straightens his tie as Finn speaks again.
"That's totally fine, Schue. I understand. Just- me, Puck, Artie, Tina and Mercedes...we got your back. we know you're innocent. We'll hold glee down till you're back. Don't worry about anything."
As Finn left, he could feel it spreading- guilt and shame. All over his body- reaching further; faster. He doubles over in his chair. He runs his hands through his hair. He tries to pull himself together and it fails. It takes a while- but he does. Just as Emma knocks softly on his door.
"William, may I have a word?"
He nods, standing and waiving her inside. She's holding a folder, it's pristine and well organized and thick; and she has it under her fidgeting fingertips.
"I wanted to check in about glee club. I wanted to know if you had anything setup or reserved for the auditorium?"
He gives her the practice times and waits for her to address the elephant in the room. When she doesn't, he takes the moment to gain an ally.
"Emma, you know that what they're saying isn't true...right?" A voice in the back of his mind hisses, "Liar..." and he swallows thickly.
She backs away from his desk immediately when he stands from it.
"I want to say that I know it's not true but I'm not so sure. Santana Lopez may be mean; a bully at times. But she's never had a reason to lie. I am a counselor first, Will. And while I won't shun you for my personal belief in you- I will shun you until a verdict is made on the case. I will stay impartial...but I have a duty to these children first and foremost-"
"Emma, please- I would never; I could never! Just... let me explain what happened-"
"I can't, Will. Especially if she decides to come to me for guidance. I'm here as a colleague...but that's it for right now."
She leaves the office quicker than he can stop her.
000 0000 000
When she sees Brittany, she's with Quinn. When they see her they immediately are at her sides. They say nothing; but they walk the halls to their shared class and she feels safer than she has in the last few weeks.
The day continues with small surprises. Sam and Mike are at her locker after fifth period; scrubbing the word off it. She approaches them slowly.
"Hey San, thought we'd take care of this stupid graffiti for you." Sam smiles in a way that makes her forget how bad things are and Mike stops himself from reaching out to touch her.
"Won't Tina castrate you for helping me?" Mike shrugs. "Tina's being a bit immature. If she can't see how...messed up she's being then she won't see me."
She nods and suppresses the urge to hug them both- but she cringes at the thought. She isn't sure she's ready for that. They walk with her to glee, and she sees the division automatically.
Mercedes, Puck, Artie, Tina, Lauren and Mercedes are sitting together, talking until she walks in. The room goes silent, and she waits for whatever is about to happen next.
End Chapter
