A/N: I'm so happy that everyone likes the story so far! I appreciate your comments and likes. :D
/
Justine deserved to be punched in the jaw. And slapped in the face. She was saying bad things about Brittany, bad things you didn't like. And when you politely asked her to shut the hell up she laughed and kept talking.
Maybe you should have walked away. But your blood was boiling with anger and you just couldn't…
But then again you did try to walk away and she tried harder to piss you off.
So you hit her.
And that is how you find yourself in Miss. Pillsbury's office.
And how Justine finds herself in Nurse Caroline's office.
"Santana… I've been very lenient with you-" Miss. Pillsbury says. Her hands are folded and she's leaning on her desk looking directly at you. "And fighting has never been a problem for you before-"
"But Justine-"
"I know," She says softly, "She said something about Brittany… but you can't just hit people like that Santana. Girls live here… they and their parents need to feel safe."
"Well… don't we have a no bullying thing here too? Justine was bullying Brittany. How's that supposed to make Brittany feel?" Miss. Pillsbury sighs.
"I won't suspend you Santana, because I like you. I know a lot of teachers here don't, but I do. I see your potential. Even if you don't and you never come to my office to talk to me… " There's nothing to talk about, it happened and there's not a damn thing you or Ms. Pillsbury or anyone for that matter can do about it. "And even if you do smoke in the woods." Your ears perk up and you look at her. "Yeah, you thought I didn't know?" You're at a lost for words, if you would have known that she knew then- then…. Holy shit does Principal Sue know? "Don't worry, I am the only faculty member that's aware of what you do, Santana. Like I said, I like you. I would just like if you tried a little harder at Dalton." You want to tell her that she can't suspend you. That you honestly don't know what you would do if you had to go back home, if you can even call it a home. You want to tell her that being in class is too hard with everything that the other girls say, how they treat you but everyone expects you to just take it and the minute you react; you're the one in the wrong.
"But?"
"But you still don't attend your classes, I've let it slide because you keep your grades surprising high-."
"I've been to a few… yours the most." You give her a winning smile but she just frowns.
"Santana."
"I'm passing all of them! All my teachers teach from the book, I have the book, why waste my time listening to them when I can read it myself? I'm a fast learner-"
"I don't deny that, but you need to be there Santana. It's in the handbook that every student needs to attend class."
"I be busy Ms. P." Ms. Pillsbury sighs and starts to write something down,
"I'm going to let you go… for now." You smile and nod your head, "You do, however, have detention for two weeks after classes end at 3."
"Okay Ms. P. I'll see you there." You get up and start out the door,
"By the way, Santana," You stop and turn to face Ms. Pillsbury, "You've got a mean right hook." She winks at you and you give her another smile. Ms. Pillsbury isn't so bad…
/
"She bruised your lip." Brittany forces you to sit down on her bed as she ices your lip. You give a light chuckle,
"She got a lucky shot." Brittany rolls her eyes playfully, "And it's only a tiny mark."
"You're modest." She's close like she was last night, like she is when you read to her. Only right now she might as well be sitting in your lap and the lights are on. You can't hide what you're thinking and you can't avoid her eyes. Her pretty blue eyes.
"Um… I'm fine. She just tapped me, really." Brittany giggles and puts the ice back to your bottom lip,
"Does it hurt?" She asks you softly, her eyes darting back and forth, examining you to make sure you're really okay.
"No." You lie. It stings but when you add pressure….
She presses it down harder and you flinch,
"Ow! Britt…"
"You said it didn't hurt."
"I lied." You admit with a pout. She takes the pressure off of the ice pack and you let yourself calm down.
"We have to apply pressure to it."
"Maybe after it stops stinging so much." You mutter. Brittany moves closer between your legs and you have to grip the sheets to contain yourself and keep your breathing regular. "Uh… Britt… I think it's fine." You hope that will get her to give you a few feet, you can't handle being this close to her. She's so pretty, and so sweet. She stayed with you for the rest of the day and she waited outside the classroom while you were in detention. Brittany leans in closer, studying your lip and your breath gets caught in your throat. She smells like lemons, and her hair is falling past her chest in soft curls, framing her face perfectly and complimenting her bright blue eyes.
"Google said a cold compress would help it heal faster and Nurse Caroline said to ice it at least twice a day for twenty minutes."
"Well I can ice it myself."
"I don't mind." She kneels down now and holds the compress gently to your lip. "At least it's not swollen or anything… just a little red." She smiles at you, "And red is totally your color." You can't help but chuckle too because she always knows how to make you feel better. "You can't let them get to you."
"I know… but she was talking about you." You say quietly.
"Even if they're talking about me-"
"She can't-" You stutter out, cutting Brittany off sharply. "They can't talk about you like that." "You could have been suspended." Brittany informs you as if you hadn't of thought of that. "And then what? I'd never see you again." She says the last sentence in a low voice. But you just shake your head, there's no way in hell you'd ever not see Brittany again. You'd find her, you know you would. "No more fighting." She says. You growl softly, your eyes shooting up to meets hers.
"But Sunshine-"
"No more fighting!"
"Okay okay… UNLESS-"
"No!" You throw your hands up in defense.
"Okay, okay okay. No more fighting." Her arms are folded over her chest, sternly, showing you that she has made up her mind and put her foot down. "It's only detention." You mumble/
"And that's two hours of Santana time I'll be missing for two weeks. Even on the weekends! That's 14 days, Santana." Brittany complains. "Maybe I could get detention!"
"Detention for what? Loving cats too much? Picking daisies? Nah, you're not a detention kind of girl." You laugh. She takes the compress off and places it on her dresser.
"Neither are you."
/
You think you only slept because Brittany was holding you. Most nights you lie awake in bed until you can't stand the thoughts anymore and get up to go and smoke.
Much like tonight.
You throw on one of your Dalton sweatshirt and your jeans. You grab your keys, a pack of cigarettes, and your bottle of Vodka and you leave out of your room.
They say smoking is bad for you, but smoking soothes your soul. It clouds you mind- just for a second- so you can get her voice out of your head. The feeling of her touch on your skin is erased- just for a second.
You make your way through the trees, pushing branches and shrubs out of the way so you can get to your usual spot. Once your there you lean against the large tree that you have grown so greatly acquainted with. You take a long drag and let it sit inside your mouth for a while until your forced to let it go. You let out a calm breath of smoke and you close your eyes- begging, praying for the drug to take you over. Take you away. You want it to take over your body. Want it to take over your thoughts. But tonight it's working slower than normal, but you can't afford for it to work slow. You can't afford for it to not have its usual effect on you.
You need it.
You can feel the hot fresh tears start to stream down your face. Staining your cheeks as they drip to your chin and onto your sweatshirt. But you shake them away, you told yourself you'd stop being so damn vulnerable about this.
It happened years ago. The last time was when…
No. That doesn't deserve your thoughts. It doesn't deserve your tears or your life.
She doesn't deserve-
But you can't get her out of your head; you can't get him out of your head. They own you, and they own your life. And they know it, they have to. They know that you're not strong enough to fight this, fight with them; not without this.
It's so quiet out here that it should be comforting, but quiet just makes you brain race with thoughts and it makes your heart pump with feelings. You sink down to the ground and bring your knees to your chest. You bring the cigarette back up to your lips and you take one more long drag and you hold it once more; it makes you cough a little. You keep your eyes closed as the tears run faster. You keep the smoke inside for a while longer, begging for it to flow through your veins and become the very part of you that hurts.
But it's like it refuses too.
You twist the top off your liquor bottle and tilt your head back. You drink fast, ignoring the bitter taste in your mouth as the warm liquid seeps through you and into your blood.
You can feel the buzz setting in, bubbling in your stomach. You drink until the bottle is empty, and your mind is consumed by the liquor. Your thoughts are still running wild but now they're blurry, much like your vision. You take one last gulp before you throw the bottle to the ground, hugging yourself as it shatters by your feet and before your eyes.
But tonight none of it is enough to control you. To stop the hurt and to forget what she did. What they did. But you won't speak of it, you won't mutter a word because one day you'll wake up and everything will be okay. Truly okay. God do you hope so. You hope that one day you'll be able to have a real relationship with a girl and not feel bad about it. Maybe with Brittany. But until then you try to sink down lower, tucking your head between your knees and crying it out. You want to disappear, no one would notice if you did. No one would care. In fact, shit would be so much better if you just weren't here. You start to sob, start to shake. It's so hot now and all you wish is to get back into bed and be miserable there, but your legs are weak and wobbly and you feel like everything is tilting sideways, as you remember…
The footsteps…
The breathing…
You can hear them now, as if they're following you. As if they're looking for you…
"LEAVE ME ALONE!" You scream and cover your ears. "Leave me alone, leave me alone, leave…. Me alone, please." You sob.
"Santana?" You let yourself breathe a little when you hear her sugary sweet voice. It's only her. She emerges from the darkness of the crowded trees as you lift your head up, her hoodie wrapped around her and she's rubbing her eyes. "What are you doing?"
"I needed- smoke." You slur, her eyes squint and her head tilts to the side a little. Brittany walks over to you and takes the cigarette out of your hand.
"I was looking for you but you weren't in your room… are you drunk?" You shake your head, you try to stand up now, wanting to prove to her that you're alright. But you know you're not and you know you can't stand up, so you stumble back towards the tree. You hear her groan. She's frustrated with you. She hates you like everyone else and you're a burden.
She doesn't need you like you need her. She never will.
Brittany takes the cigarette from between your fingers and drops it's to the ground.
"Santana!" You hear her stomp her feet. She's angry with you, you can tell by how high her voice is. By how low and thick it is. But you can't worry about that anymore because you feel like you're going to throw up everything you've ever eaten. You clutch your stomach as you bend over, dropping to your knees because you feel unsteady.
"I don't feel so good."
"Or course you don't! You drunk this whole bottle in less than 30 minutes, probably." She's close to you now; you can feel her arms around you, bringing you up to your feet and into her.
"I- I… I'm- fi-ne." You get out.
"Shut up! No you're not." You whip around, out of her arms so that she can face her.
"Do-nt yell a-at me!"
"You're out here at 2 am drinking! What do you want to happen?" She asks. She has tears in her eyes, but then again you wouldn't really know because your vision is getting clouded by the tears starting to fall from your eyes.
"I-I want- I want the v-voice-s to s-op! I want the memories to just…" You grab your head; it's starting hurt from from yelling. "Just stop." You squeeze your eyes shut tight, "Stop, stop stop," You whisper. She wipes her tears away and she starts towards you.
"Santana…"
"You don't under-tand!"
"So help me understand." She begs. But you shake your head. You just want to go lay down. With her. "Santana," Her tone is gentle and broken now, "You're bleeding." You glance down and notice that you are. Your hand is red and it does hurt. But you hadn't notice. "You must have cut yourself with the glass." You're silent because you don't know what to say, you don't know how to react. It hurts but you can't bring yourself to care because she's giving a look of worry.
She's worried about you. Someone is worried about you.
"I-m-fine-" You mumble and she shakes her head once more.
"No you're not," With that she wiggles around a bit, pulling a tank top from her body, from under her hoodie, and she wraps it around your hand. "This should stop the blood till we get back… it's not that bad of a cut." She's holding your hand now, her arm wrapped gently around you to keep you up. "C'mon." Even though you feel uneasy and your legs seem as if they're going to give out… a bed sounds nice right now. A bed with her. You squeeze her hand and the two of you walk back not even an inch away from each other.
/
She opens your door and you stumble to your bed until you're able to fall backwards. When your head hits the pillow you sigh in content. You want to go to sleep. But you're afraid of the dreams you'll have. So you just lie back and wait for her to get into bed with you so she can hold you like she did the other night. She's cleaning your cut, giving you a band-aid, and then she kisses it gently and you feel your heart drop. "Just to sooth the pain," She whispers, and like that she disappears.
You think you're dreaming when you feel her hands on you, when you feel her pushing up your sweat shirt. You shut your eyes tight for the thousandth time tonight and prey that it's over soon. Pray that she'll stop. You're frozen on your bed, your lips thin and you fist the black sheets beneath you. How do you tell her you don't want this… not right now. Not like this. You just wanted to lay with her… What if she gets mad? You've never been with anyone like this… you've never let anyone touch you. You were always the one doing the touching, always the one in charge and in control. You've never let anyone see you in that state of vulnerability, and you don't want to. You don't want to give up that power.
Not again.
When she undoes the zipper of your pant your grip tightens and you let a shaky breath escape your lips. Brittany starts to tug your pants down you start to whisper, "No… no, no, no…" But she doesn't hear you and only continues. You gasp and squeeze your eyes to the point where it hurts. You grit your teeth. You grab her hand, silently asking her to slow down… to give you a second. You sit up and you're met with soft blue eyes, your night shirt dangling on her shoulder.
She was just trying to change you.
"You can sleep like that if you want." Brittany says and you nod. "Okay," She places the shirt down on the edge of the bed and she climbs in with you. She pulls you up and on your side so that your back is to her, then she wraps strong and gentle arms around you until the darkness seems to fade and all you can see is her. "Goodnight." She whispers. Brittany tucks her head into the back of your neck and you let out a long shaky breath as you close your eyes.
/
She's moving like she's done this before, like she's familiar with helping intoxicated people. You should feel bad for having her up so late last night, for making her walk through the woods just to find you a drunken mess… but you can't help but like her taking care of you. She's cleaning your room, putting shirts and skirts on hangers and folding pants and putting shoes by the wall. She's even organizing your book shelf. She has a skirt and button down shirt for you already on the foot of the bed and a bucket.
"Do you need to puke?" She asks you. You sit up and shake your head. "Okay… well I got this just in case. If Ms. P or Ms. Sylvester catches you puking they'll think something's up." You just blush a little and clear your throat. You look down to see a pink band-aid on your hand and you smile, but then it quickly fades when you remember the night before. Well, what you can remember which isn't much. You open your mouth to apologize for having her out so late, for having her take care of you like an incapable toddler, but she speaks first. "Hey," She calls. Santana comes and sits down beside you on the bed and points to your desk. "Look, since you'll be going to class more often. I got all of your books from under your bed and they're in class order, and I got all your binders together: Complete with loose leaf paper, a notebook and pencils and pens and at least one highlighter." You chuckle,
"Thanks," You say. She gives you a quick smile but looks down at her fidgeting hands. "What is it?" You ask.
"Santana…" She says and you look back up at her.
"Yeah?"
"You said Ms. P always wants to talk to you…"
"Yeah…" She sits down beside you on the bed and takes your hand slowly,
"Maybe it's okay to talk…"
/
You shove your hands into your hoodie pocket and you walk to the woods. You needed to get away, missing one class wouldn't hurt. They're just going over a study guide. You lean against your tree and pull out a pack of Newport's. But when you realize that the container is empty you throw it to the ground. "Fuck." You forgot to get your coat and now the bitter December wind is setting in under your skin. You start to pace back and forth, that was your last pack and you have no idea how you're going to get another.
"You should be in class." You know who it is, so you don't bother to turn around.
"I needed some air, Brittany."
"You need to be in class. If Ms. Pillsbury catches you you'll be suspended!" You close your eyes and let the wind hit your face and you take in a deep breath. You want to tell Brittany that you don't care if you get suspended. That Ms. Pillsbury and this whole student body can kiss your ass and even give you a going away party while they're at it.
But that would be a lie.
You need this school, you need this atmosphere. You need her.
So you turn to Brittany, your eyes softening when you see how weak her's are. "Go to class, Santana, please." She says and you simply nod your head. You can't stand to see her so sad. So upset because of you. "Let's go to the movies tomorrow… it's Saturday and we can go after your detention? We can walk…" That sounds nice. So nice. You haven't been to the movies in a while. "You can get away from the campus for a while," She extends her question, thinking you'll turn her down.
"Okay," You say so simply it may have been offensive, but the smile on her face tells you that she satisfied with the response.
"Let's go before your late."
/
When you get to your class Brittany tells you that she'll be right there when it's over. And that's the only thing that keeps you sane for those 45 minutes.
/
"You know," Brittany starts. She's walking along side you on the sidewalk, her ponytail swinging from side to side as she bounces down the street. "I don't know much about you."
"You do too." You cut in. She knows more about you than most people ever get the pleasure of not hearing. "You know tons about me." You take a cigarette that you stole off some spoiled freshmen and try to light it. But you can sense Brittany staring at you, her eyes piercing a whole in the side of your head. "Sunshine… c'mon… we're off campus-"
"Smoking only helps to kill you like 10 years earlier!" She spits out with her arms folded.
"Just for a few minutes?" You have no idea when you started asking permission to smoke, or when you even took in someone else's opinion into consideration. But Brittany's different. So you frown and put it back in your pocket. It gets quiet and you think it's because Brittany really wanted you to throw it out.
"Anyway…I don't know much about you. Like personal stuff."
"What kind of personal stuff?"
"Like what you liked to do when you were a kid." Brittany presses on as she bites her lip. You have to think… what the hell did you like when you were a kid?
"The park," You decide in a moment. "I liked going to the park."
"Everyone liked going to the park."
"Well… it was the best part of my day."
"Why?"
"Because my dad always took me. After he picked me up from school I'd be upset because all the other little bitches made fun of my hair and to cheer me up that's where we would go."
"That sounds special."
"Yeah… my mom worked a lot and he worked nights so… when he would pick me up from school h-he'd take me the park."
"Did he play with you? My dad always just sat down and watched me." Brittany sighs.
"Sometimes we'd play catch, or ride our bikes… he pushed me on the swings a lot and we built sand castles. Or I'd go down the slide and he'd be at the bottom waiting to catch me." You have to smile. You have to laugh because you haven't thought of that in a while. "And we would go get ice cream sometimes," You chuckle. "But we always shared because I couldn't finish a vanilla cone by myself no matter how much I wanted to." Brittany's staring at you again, you can feel it, but it's a nice kind of stare. She's looking at you proudly. "I used to love the nights he was off because those were the nights we'd watch movies."
"What kind of movies?"
"Promise not to laugh… okay?"
"Okay." She takes your pinky and smiles. "I pinky promise."
"I loved Mary-Kate and Ashley. Like… I had the whole damn DVD collection." At that moment Brittany starts to giggle, she giggles so loudly that you start to pout.
"You promised!"
"That was until I knew that you liked Mary-Kate and Ashley."
"I liked they're songs… and they had really good story lines."
"Santana!"
"Anyway!" You say to her bluntly. "He would watch Mary-Kate and Ashley with me." Brittany's grinning at you, a grin so big that it catches you by surprise. "What?"
"We could watch Mary-Kate and Ashley together."
"Britt-"
"What was your favorite one?" You blush as you answer,
"Double double toil and trouble." Brittany lifts an eyebrow at you.
"Of course you'd like their Halloween movie. Passport to Parris was my favorite." Brittany moves closer to you so that your hips are touching, you want to push her away almost as much as you want to pull her closer. But you like having her around and you're not sure how you've gotten through the last few years without her. But when you really think about it, you haven't done to well with getting through anything.
"Your dad sounds fun… maybe I can meet him one day." Your eyes shift downward, you hug yourself.
"Maybe one day."
