"Santana?"
Sunlight shone on my eyelids, making them blood-orange red. Someone was shaking my shoulder lightly.
"Santana, wake up. We have to take you to your arraignment."
I opened my eyes to discover a heavy-lidded Julia leaning over me. I sat up, blinking away the sleep. I squinted sideways. Max stood in the doorway, wearing his usual goofy expression. I stood up, still wobbly from the sleep.
"We'll take you down to get fingerprinted and put into our system, and then we'll go to court," Julia explained to me as she led me out of the room. Then she looked at me, paused, and raised her eyebrows. "Are you okay?"
My eyes were wide and my teeth tightly closed. I was having a hard time breathing and I could feel tears collecting in my eyes. I silently panicked as I began to slowly lose my vision. Thoughts of death and pain and terror plagued my mind.
So is this what ultimate fear feels like? I felt like a monstrous wave was advancing towards me. And there's nowhere to turn to, no way to escape. And it crashes over you in a swarm of white bubbles and sends you spiraling down, deep down, into the heart of the ocean. And you lose your ability to breathe, to think, and you know that you are about to cease to live. And you look up as you continue to sink and try to hold on to that last ray of light, of sanity. You reach out your hand and try to grab onto it, but it's gone. It's gone, and now you're in complete darkness, deep in the bottomless pit of desolation.
"Santana?" Max and Julia looked worriedly at me.
I blinked my eyes and snapped out of it. I inhaled slowly and deeply. "Sorry."
"There's no need to apologize," Max said softly. "You okay? Do you want water? Something to eat?"
I shook my head. "No, I'm fine," I said with a tiny voice.
Julia looked at me doubtfully. "Alright, then, let's take your fingerprints."
She guided me into the elevator and pressed the button to the ground floor. We entered a large room, filled with officers in uniform.
Max walked up to a desk. He looked back and beckoned me to join him.
Behind the desk sat a grouchy woman with a sour expression. She looked at me skeptically and said, "Name?"
I glanced up at Max. He nodded at me.
"Santana Lopez."
"Age?"
"Seventeen."
"Alleged crime?"
My eyes darted around uneasily. My bottom lip was quavering.
"Murder," Max said for me. The woman raised her eyebrows, shocked. She made a little "ooh" sound and returned to her computer.
"Put your right thumb on the pad." She motioned at an electronic pad in front of me. I pressed my thumb against it and saw a little green light pass underneath as it scanned my finger.
"Alright. Now go take your picture." She pointed at a white canvas behind her.
Max caringly put his hand on my shoulder and led me to the canvas. A man who looked to be about twenty with acne scars all over his face took my picture as he chewed his gum in a bored manner.
Now I was in the system. They had my information, they knew everything about me, and they could make me disappear into thin air if they wanted to. I rolled my head on my shoulders and heard my neck crack.
The drive to the local court only took about ten minutes. It was a looming brick building in the center of town.
We entered a wide hall that had doors all along its two walls. My shoes squeaked on the white marble floor. A young woman with closely cropped hair greeted us at one of the doors.
"Santana, this is Melinda Yule. She's your defense lawyer."
"Hi, Santana," she smiled warmly. "Your arraignment starts," she glanced at her watch, "in two minutes, so we'll talk about our trial strategy later."
They led me through the wooden door into a small court. The judge's bench sat ominously in front of a table and a podium. Rows of occupied seats filled the remainder of the room.
Melinda directed me down the aisle until we came to stand at the table. Behind the podium was a tall brunette woman in a pencil skirt. I looked up at the judge's bench.
He was an aged man with thick glasses and a stern face. He looked at me critically.
A woman in a guard's uniform called out, "Docket number 82931. People versus Santana Lopez. One count murder in the second degree."
"How do you plead?" the judge asked firmly.
I looked around. Everything was happening so quickly and I didn't know what to do. "Guilty."
"Not guilty!" Melinda said quickly. "She pleads not guilty. She has no memory of the alleged crime and there are no witnesses. She pleads not guilty."
The judge looked at me severely. "How do you plead?" he repeated.
"Not guilty," I said quietly.
"The People's voice on bail," he turned to the woman behind the podium.
"The People hold that Miss Lopez is not a danger to herself or to others, therefore we request low bail," she said.
The judge looked at her skeptically. "The defense's stand," he fixed his eyes on Melinda.
"We have no objections to the People's request," she nodded at the woman behind the podium.
"Bail is set at two thousand dollars," he pounded his gavel. "Next case."
The brunette and Melinda led me out of the room. Max and Julia, who were sitting in the benches behind us, followed.
"Hi," the brunette turned to me once the door closed behind us. "I'm assistant district attorney Barbara Hick. Melinda," she turned her gaze to her right, "Let's discuss this in my office, shall we?"
Melinda nodded. "Santana," she said to me, "we'll meet again, of course, to discuss our approach. Max and Julia will take you back to the precinct now, where I'm sure that someone will bail you out." She and Barbara said their goodbyes and walked in the opposite direction, deep in conversation.
I looked after the two women who had my fate in their delicate hands and prayed that they would treat it rightfully.
"You're in good hands," Julia said to me, as if she could read my thoughts. I nodded at her and we exited the building.
There was this idea that was bothering me. I voiced it in the car.
"Why is Barbara on my side? Why are you on my side?" I paused. "I'm a murderer."
Max looked back at me. "We're on your side because what you did is called self-defense. If you didn't act the way that you did, you would've been dead right now."
"Is that why I pleaded not guilty?"
"Yes," he nodded.
I looked down at my hands. Was there a chance that I would actually avoid prison?
I thought about how, just twenty-four hours ago, I was ecstatic at the fact that I received a role in the play. How excited I was to perform on stage in front of an enthusiastic audience. It all seemed so meaningless now.
The numbness was beginning to dissolve. I became more restless with every second that ticked by. The weight of my crime was finally starting to sink in. I felt like I was getting younger and younger with each minute. More dependant, more incompetent. More helpless. I had this sin that had I committed to deal with, and I didn't know how to overcome it. It was too great, too colossal, for this little, tiny, worthless excuse of a person.
When we arrived at the precinct, Max and Julia led me to a jail area. I looked at them apprehensively.
"I know, I know," Max apologized. "But we have to leave you here until someone pays your bail. I'm sorry."
The guard slid open the barred entrance and made way for me to enter. I gave Max and Julia one last desperate look and walked in.
There were three women inside, each more frightening than the other. They smiled simultaneously as I came into view.
"Well, well, well, look what we have here…" said a husky woman with two missing teeth. "So what did a puny girl like you do to get in here?"
I sat down in the corner of the cell and looked down at my knees. I curled them up against me and leaned my head down, silently wishing to be anywhere but here.
"Aww," another woman mocked. "The little girl is sad… What do you say we comfort her?" I heard footsteps approaching me.
"Hey!" I heard Max's voice yell. "Last time someone threatened this girl, they ended up dead. You touch her, you mess with me. Got it?"
The women sighed, disappointed, and returned to their evil thrones.
Tears streamed down my face. I wanted Brittany. I needed her. I felt like I was on my death bed, and she was the cure for my terminal illness. Only she could save me. Only she could take care of me. Only she could love me.
I was in the cell for two hours by the time the guard returned. "Santana Lopez?" he called out.
I raised my tear-soaked face. He nodded at me, "Come on. You've been bailed out."
I stood on my feet and left the ghastly cell. He walked me down the hall and through a door to the left.
I was immediately engulfed by the strong arms that I loved so much. My nose was stuffed into her shirt and I sniffed in her scent. Happy, relieved, confused, scared tears poured down my face.
"Shh…" Brittany said soothingly. "I'm here. I'm here. Everything's gonna be okay."
I continued to sob into her chest. After I had cried to my heart's fullest extent, I looked up from her shirt and glanced behind her.
Mr. Schue, Rachel, and two men were watching me grimly. I drew away from Brittany, wiping my eyes, and walked up to them.
"Are you okay, Santana?" Mr. Schue asked, concerned.
I nodded. Rachel smiled at me kindly. "These are my dads," she motioned to the two men. "They said you could stay with us until they find you a permanent place to live in. We didn't want you to be thrown to some foster house."
I looked at her fathers thankfully and managed a little smile. Brittany stroked my arm lovingly.
We left the precinct. Before we entered the car, I asked to have a minute alone with Brittany. Rachel's fathers nodded at me, and I took Brittany's hand and walked around the corner of the building.
The moment that we were out of their sight, Brittany pushed me against the wall and kissed me feverishly. I needed her so much. As we stood there, tangled in each other's arms and attached by the tongues, I wanted her to melt into me, morph into my being, so that I could take her with me down to the no-longer-so-desolate pit.
