Ughhhh, I'm not even going to look at how long it's been since I updated. Just take it, here it is! Lol! I guess the good news is, is that I kinda feel over the whole writer's block issue, now that you all probably hate me. ;) I don't have much to say up here and I'm sure you don't want to here much from me aside from the story, haha, so anyway, thanks for all the follows, favorite and reviews. It always surprises me that I get so many even when I haven't been that active, so thanks so much for that!

PS: this is loosely edited and it's 3 AM, so if there are any glaring mistakes let me know. :)


Chapter 9 – Clarity

"I brought that along if you want to wear it. It's kind of cool today…"

It was a mild afternoon for June, but as Santana accepted the sweatshirt she already knew that she wouldn't be wearing it. Everything about herself felt filthy, from the stringiness of her hair to the remnants of dirt on her skinned knees and she didn't want to wear the sweet smelling grey fabric for fear of tainting it. Instead, she held it in her lap and ran her fingertips over the printed ink on the back that spelled out the words 'The Sound of Music.' And as she read further, she found Rachel's name beside the role of 'Leisl von Trapp.'

Rachel couldn't help but smile as she noticed Santana reading through the cast list. "It was my first musical my freshman year of college…they told me I didn't have the right look to play Maria. Imagine my surprise."

Unsure of the point of the comment, Santana continued to remain silent as they drove from the parking lot of the police station. If Rachel was trying to bond over adversities then Santana could only consider that to be in poor taste and she supposed that was really saying something. In her opinion, Rachel should have been beyond grateful for even having made it to college, being cast in musicals was just a trifle bonus.

"Here," Rachel announced, urging a pair of sunglasses in Santana's direction. "I've had a few more hangovers since the Rachel Berry House Party Train Wreck Extravaganza, so I know how you feel this morning."

No longer could Santana hold her tongue and as she slipped on the sunglasses with the chic Louis Vuitton logo down one arm, she said quietly, "You have no idea what I feel like this morning, but thanks for the shades."

~S~R~S~R~S~R~S~R~

When they arrived at the park where they had re-met, Santana was almost sure that Rachel was trying to torture an explanation from her. There was nothing pleasant about being chauffeured to the place where she played with her daughter, in order to dredge up her horrible past and even worse present.

Reaching into the backseat of the car, Rachel brought back a box that had an even sweeter scent wafting from it than the detergent and fabric softener on her sweatshirt. "I bought doughnuts and bagels for breakfast. The only thing that I know you actually like is BreadstiX, but it's not open this early so hopefully this is fine…"

Knowing that Rachel remembered her favorite restaurant made something in her stomach twinge, but it was that same twinge that made food seem out of the question. "Thanks, but I don't want to eat," Santana informed, her tone meant to be one of finality. But with Rachel being Rachel, that message was lost in translation or maybe just plainly ignored.

"I think that maybe you should try to eat at least a few bites..."

Glaring, Santana nearly ripped the lid off the box, grabbed the first powdered doughnut she saw and shoved it into her mouth. "There! Happy?" she said through the mouthful, sending powdered sugar all down the front of her black dress before rolling down the window and pitching the rest of the doughnut out.

"It looks like you're doing cocaine," Rachel chuckled, not at all fazed.

Santana went blank with disbelief, wondering how Rachel could have known that she had used cocaine only days ago. But then it dawned on her, it was just a joke. Not at all mindful of her injury, she wiped her lips of the white powder she had put there herself and dusted the front of herself off, while saying sarcastically, "My, my, Rachel, it's funny just how spot on you really are. I actually did coke for the first time just Friday night."

Rachel stared at her across the console for a few seconds before saying softly, "Bad joke." She was surprised, but more by the way it was admitted than by the act itself. She didn't think that anything Santana was to do or say now could surprise her and she would have been lying if she said that she herself hadn't encountered the drug during parties and behind the scenes.

"Poor choice," Santana added, flipping her hand in the air as if it wasn't all that serious. In actuality, she had startled herself by blurting the words out. She couldn't understand why she would so suddenly and so openly admit something like that to Rachel, but it was too late to backtrack.

"Well, what happened?" Rachel asked cautiously, watching as Santana's nervous energy had her fiddling with her fingers and looking back and forth out the windows.

Suddenly, Santana was taking off her donated shoes and hiking up her dress, revealing the wide lace band at the top of one stocking. As she raised her leg slightly to begin peeling it down, the hem of the already short dress moved further and a cluster of reddish, fingertip-shaped bruises on her inner thigh came into view. Rachel almost gasped out loud, but then remembered that Santana didn't know what she knew.

While Rachel bit the inside of her cheek and turned her face away, Santana finished removing the stockings and then abruptly opened the car door.

"Wait!" Thinking that she was making another run for it, Rachel grabbed at the other woman's bicep.

"Don't touch me!" Santana demanded, ripping her arm away as she seethed.

"You're not going to run?" Rachel quizzed with her hand still poised in the space between them.

"I was just going to throw these stupid things in that trash can over there, Jesus!" Santana showed the balled up stockings in her palm and then got out of the car. "Where the fuck would I run anyway?" she mostly asked herself as she headed away from the car.

Rachel was quick to follow, not willing to let Santana get away from her again. If she had to chase her through the park she would, she just hoped that it wouldn't come to that. "Santana, I'll just have you know that you might be a few inches taller than me, but I doubt you could outrun me, so just – "

"I'm not going to run, Rachel!" Santana shouted after she had turned around from the trash can. "Let it fucking go…"

Due to the mirrored lenses of the sunglasses, Santana's eyes weren't visible and Rachel wasn't able to detect any hints of dishonesty, but she decided to trust her anyway. "Fine then, I'll let it go," she said while wondering what idea to pitch next. "So…do you want to walk or…" she trailed off noncommittally and waited.

Santana shrugged and then tossed her head with a snort. "Oh, why not? It'd be a nice walk of shame and I have a lot of shame to walk off."

Rachel had already decided that it would be better to let Santana come to her no matter how badly she wanted answers to her questions, so she simply nodded and let Santana lead the way.

From there, the two walked in relative silence, passing by the pond that Olivia had almost fallen into and further to the playground that was surprisingly deserted for a Sunday afternoon.

"So, you want to know what happened to me?" Santana asked as she eased herself onto one of the swings of the swing set, grimacing as she did. Rachel noticed the small change in facial expressions and again had to look away for fear of revealing her own. "Or should I say what didn't happen to me?"

"Santana…" Rachel sighed as she took the other swing. The exhaustion from all of the chaos was setting in heavily and as much as she wanted to be patient, she just didn't know how much longer she could handle Santana's attitude.

"I'm sorry, sir, no feeding the sluts!" Santana suddenly sniped, while practically baring her teeth at an elderly man who happened to be staring at her as he walked past with his wife. The old man shook his head as if in sadness before passing by completely.

"Santana," Rachel said again, feeling like she was scolding a petulant child.

"What? He was staring at me like a fucking pervert!"

"I don't care how he was looking at you!" Maybe Rachel didn't entirely mean that, but she was becoming too impatient to care. Her earlier commitment to let Santana come to her would have to be abandoned, because it was obvious that Santana was only going to tease her with the possibility of the truth. "I just picked you up from jail! I held your daughter while she cried for you and sang to her until she fell asleep, after you left her! I think I deserve better treatment than this…I need some answers…"

"You do…" Santana quietly agreed, nodding absentmindedly as she wiggled her bare toes in the sand beneath them.

"Well, as much of a backhanded compliment as it is, you can start by explaining why you decided to abandon Olivia with me…"

Santana looked to her left and met Rachel's eyes with a hardened gaze. "Who said I was abandoning her? Don't you think that if I was going to abandon her that I could find someone better to leave her with than you?"

"Obviously you couldn't because she's at my house with my fathers as we speak," Rachel replied. She didn't want to bring the conversation to smugness and threats – that wouldn't be the way to get Santana to open up – but she was running out of options. And it was the truth.

"Fine, maybe I think you would be a good mom," Santana said flippantly.

"Are you insane? Why would you do this?" Rachel questioned, gesturing wildly with her hands as she lost her composure. "Don't you care about how Olivia feels? Won't Dave wonder where his daughter is?"

Tightly grasping the chains in her fists, Santana tried to desensitize herself to the fact that she had just been accused of being insane. To anyone else it would have been a figure of speech and nothing more. To her it was highly plausible; sane people didn't often attempt to kill themselves. "You don't know what I'm going through, I can't figure out what's right or wrong anymore…"

"I might. I might know, I mean," Rachel said, feeling guilty for knowing such painfully intimate details of Santana's life without her knowledge. She didn't even want to have to verbalize it out loud; she really couldn't imagine how it felt to go through it. Quietly, she added, "Olivia told me something…something you told her not to tell me."

Something? Santana's feet stopped sifting the sand and she froze, slowly turning to meet Rachel's apologetic eyes. There were plenty of 'somethings' that Olivia could have brought up, but there was one big something that she had specifically told her not to talk about. And she could tell by Rachel's expression that Olivia had gone against her warnings. She knew it was foolish to feel betrayed by a child who knew no better, but she couldn't help it. "And what would that something be?" she asked, trying to come across as apathetic, indifferent, unfeeling, anything that wouldn't give away the fact that her façade was wearing thin.

The way that Santana was able to hold eye contact was unnerving and again Rachel felt guilty as she had to focus on the ground beneath her own feet. "She told me that Dave hurt your mouth and that he…" she paused in giving Olivia's naïve recollection. Her face flushed hotly despite the coolness in the air and she didn't know if it was out of anger at Dave or embarrassment over having to repeat something so delicate to the person who already knew every detail. Santana waited patiently, eyes boring into her like she was begging her to go on and desperately pleading for her to stop all at once. "And that you were on the floor…crying and yelling while he was on top of you."

A huff of relief passed Santana's lips and then she was forcing herself to laugh. In a morbid way, the simplicity of the few short sentences was quite comical and it gave her so many possibilities to work with. "That's all she said?" she questioned, attempting to make it seem as if she was making light of the situation.

"Yes," Rachel answered slowly, looking up with some confusion at the other woman's wry smile. She had hoped that Santana would realize that she hadn't been trying to intentionally humiliate her, what she hadn't hoped for was Santana continuing her act.

"What are you even talking about?" Santana laughed like the whole situation was a huge misunderstanding, but on the inside she was disgusted with herself. "Haven't you ever heard of rough sex, Rachel? Please don't tell me you're still as clueless as you were in high school!"

Rachel was stunned. All she could say in a hushed voice was, "So you also enjoy having your lip split for foreplay? And bruises put all up and down your thighs as well?"

Santana's eyes narrowed at the corners, she hoped to look intimidating and to quell the tears as she leaned closer to Rachel. "Everyone has their kinks."

Shaking her head indignantly, Rachel wiped at her own eyes and tried to keep her emotions under control. She was thinking of Olivia's feelings now, not of Santana's which seemed to be so completely numbed. "So, it's also safe to assume that one of your kinks is having your daughter play witness to that, so much so that it confuses her and leads her to a complete breakdown?" she asked, her voice catching every now and then before suddenly turning to a harsh opposite. "Santana, I brought her to the fucking hospital last night because she was making herself sick with stress! Say you enjoy that and I'll know you're lying!"

Santana seemed to pale, making the darkness under her eyes appear even darker. "Is she okay?"

"We're not talking about her! She threw up a few times, she's not the one who's here in front of me with her lip taped up and covered in bruises after disappearing for the night!"

Despite Rachel's yelling Santana remained calm, or at least shocked into staying calm. "But she's okay?" she repeated.

"She's –" Taking in Santana's defeated body language, Rachel shut down the words she had wanted to say and reigned herself in. Olivia was still Santana's child despite what she had done and she deserved a straight answer. "Santana, she's fine," she said, sounding desperate as she tilted her head and tried to appear as convincing as possible. "But you're not, are you?"

Removing one hand from the chain, Santana bowed her head and covered her face with it as she shook her head.

Rachel twisted the swing she sat in to face her and simply looked on for a moment. She really had no idea what she was trying to accomplish. It was obvious that Santana was distressed, but that didn't mean that she had the power to fix her. "It really did happen then?" she asked anyway.

"Yes! It did happen, okay!" Santana barked, pulling her hand from her face and staring into Rachel's eyes for a reaction. It would have been indiscernible if she hadn't been looking for it, but eventually she noticed the way Rachel's eyes grew glassier and her throat worked as she swallowed. "Oh, please…don't look s-so sur-surprised," she stuttered over her words as Rachel's emotions seemed to manifest in her, making her voice high and strained, "she already told you everything there was to know." Disappointed that she couldn't control herself any longer, she lowered her head again, attempting to hide as much of her face as she could. "I've never been so humiliated…"

Honestly, Rachel wasn't surprised, but she was ill prepared for the moment. She couldn't be surprised when she had had so much time to think about what Olivia had told her. But no matter how much she had schemed in her head how she would play the heroine, none of the scenarios seemed to fit the one that Santana was giving her. The most she had ever had to do for Georgie was championing her after she hadn't gotten prized callbacks and even though she had considered Georgie to be quite high maintenance, Santana was proving to be even more so in unimaginable ways.

"Santana…" she said softly as she rose to stand in front of her. "It'll be…okay." She knew it was the wrong thing to say, the words sounded stale and insincere but it couldn't be helped. She felt that she had nothing to offer if Santana wasn't willing to work with her.

Starting with a slow reach, Rachel brushed just her fingertips over Santana's shoulder before laying her palm over it. "Do you need…I'll take you to the emergency room, if that's what you want. Or did you already go there? I'm sorry, I'm trying to be calm about this…just tell me what I can do for you."

Just as carefully, Santana grasped her wrist and guided it away. "I'm fine," she said, standing and walking past Rachel without any type of answer.

"You just insinuated that you weren't fine when I asked you and I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to agree with that…"

"Stop apologizing," Santana said, not hesitating in walking away. She didn't bother to turn and face Rachel as she spoke, she didn't care if she was heard or not. "This isn't your fault. I just need to go home and take care of my daughter."

"When are you going to take care of yourself?" Rachel called ahead, beginning to follow.

Santana heard the question and rolled her bottom lip into her mouth, biting into it lightly, possibly to keep it from quivering. Her hands came up to meet in front of her and before she had even made the conscious effort to do so, she stopped walking and stood picking at her fingernails. It was a lifelong nervous tic; picking at her nails until they were jagged and peeling, and then constantly filing them back to perfection.

"Can Olivia stay with you for a few days?" She had turned around to face Rachel and vomited out the words without really thinking anything through. "Please?"

After stopping herself from nearly colliding headlong into Santana, Rachel let the idea register for a few seconds. "Is that really what you need?" she finally asked, almost wincing as she tried to put herself into Santana's mindset.

A moment of silence passed where no one was yelling or trying to convince the other to see whatever reason they wanted them to believe.

Santana just barely shrugged one shoulder before honestly admitting, "I don't really know…"

Nodding understandingly, but knowing that she had to take advantage of Santana's sudden clarity, Rachel gave her a gentle ultimatum. "If you stay too…"

At first it seemed that Santana wanted to protest, but when she couldn't think of any more lies or excuses to use in her defense she decided to say nothing at all.

"Just a few days, like you said," Rachel continued to coax, edging forward and placing her hand over Santana's, preventing her from fidgeting any more. She nodded some more, this time in hopes of getting Santana to mirror her. "I think…well, I mean I hope it'll help you…both of you."

Santana wore a wounded expression. It was obvious that it was painful for her to have to let her pride go and just give in. And it made Rachel wish that she could have been someone else, anyone else who could have helped Santana without having to share such an awkward, tense history with her.

"Thank you…" Santana whispered at the ground, turning her hand over to grasp at Rachel's fingers. She sniffed and used the back of her other hand to wipe at her eyes. "I'm sorry I keep," she gestured to her face, referring to her swaying emotions, "doing this."

"It's okay," Rachel assured, moving some of Santana's tangled hair over her shoulder and surprisingly not being brushed off. "Let's go back to the car. I'll call my dads and let them know we're going to come back."

"Rachel, wait," Santana requested after pulling her hand away and putting some distance between them. "If I'm gonna do this…I have to go home first."

"No!" Rachel blurted in shock. "No, why would you do that? You can't." It wasn't until she caught the strange look that Santana was giving her that she realized she was out of line. In her opinion it was no good idea and while she was used to being in charge, she quickly reminded herself that she was not in charge of the woman in front of her. "I'm sorry, if that's really what you want to do, then we'll do it. But I'm sure we could make different arrangements…something safer for you."

Santana shook her head as if she didn't want to think about the implications. "I'll be fine."

~S~R~S~R~S~R~S~R~

Rachel sat staring at the gauges behind the steering wheel as all of her instincts told her that she was making a mistake. She had given in to what Santana had requested and taken her to her and Dave's home, where Dave was sure to be if the truck in the driveway and the open garage door were any indication.

"I'll give you ten minutes, if you're not out by then I'm calling the police," Rachel informed, knowing that what she really should have been doing was calling the police right then and there and having Dave arrested on the spot. She knew better than how she was handling the situation or at least she thought she knew better. She was finding that there was a great deal of difference between thinking she knew what to do and actually having to do it.

Santana simply nodded her agreement as she exited the car, knowing that it was probably for the best. If she hadn't been so afraid of what would happen, she would've asked Rachel to come inside with her to appease her own fears. "Fine with me…"

"You're sure you don't want me to –"

She gave the car door a shove and let it slam closed, not wanting to give any more of an answer than that. She had never planned on seeing her husband again and it was taking all of her concentration to prepare for the moment when she would.

Walking up to the door was like a wave of déjà vu, a repeat of the morning before when she had come crawling back after going missing for the entire night and most of the day. But if Dave was waiting for her again she knew there wouldn't be a fight like last time. She had no fight left in her and she wouldn't have minded being put out of her misery; in her mind it was an act long overdue anyway.

The back door made the usual suction noise as she pulled it open, stepped in from the garage and then pushed it back into place. It was so familiar; she knew it well, just like she knew all of the other sounds in the house, especially the ones that could trigger a fury.

The television was the only other thing emitting sounds in the space, but its broadcast translated to a mindless drone for Santana as she and Dave locked eyes across the room. He was sitting on the couch, still wearing yesterday's clothing but not looking like he was too stressed about the situation that they had created.

"I was wondering when you might show your face again," he said neutrally, as if he hadn't done something shameless just the day before and she had instead.

The usual shot of adrenaline began pulsing as Santana pulled a chair out from the kitchen table and sat, resting her elbows on the surface and putting her head in her hands. She felt trapped, trapped by the time constraints Rachel had put into place and the fact that Dave was getting up to approach her. Just be calm, nothing is going to happen, she told herself, knowing that she needed to be strategic with her words and actions.

"Dave, just…" She was struggling with what to say to keep him from getting angry and she could only hope that she chose the correct words. "Just stay over there…please. I have to tell you something."

He jumped to conclusions immediately, asking coolly, "Whatdid you do?"

"I didn't do anything…" Santana said softly, eyes already starting to water as she stared down at the wood grain of the table. "…yet."

"Yet?" he repeated, his tone revealing that he wasn't pleased with the response. He stood behind the chair opposite of her, keeping the distance she had requested. "Where's Olivia?"

"Rachel is just outside in her car…all I have to do is – "

"All you have to do is what?"

"Olivia told her!" Santana suddenly yelled, wanting to make it known that they had greater complications to worry about. One of her palms made a sharp noise as she slapped it down onto the table. "Olivia told Rachel what happened yesterday and if I don't go back out there she's gonna call the cops!"

"Rachel?" Dave echoed, his face first showing fear before it morphed into anger. "Rachel Berry! You let her tell the biggest fucking loud mouth that we've ever known everything there is to know about us?" He turned to pace the length of the kitchen, his mind conjuring up all of the horrible things that his once social pariah of a classmate could do to him now. Police were no real threat to him, but Rachel Berry with her financial excess, celebrity status and media pull could expose everything. And unlike Santana, she was untouchable.

"How could you let her do that? She couldn't have, you must've told Rachel and now you want to blame it on Olivia because you're a coward!" he said accusingly as he began to panic. "You're sick, Santana!"

"She did tell her, I swear!" Santana yelled again and then let her voice drop to a lower volume. "I made a mistake last night…"

"Y-yeah, well, you seem to make a lot of mistakes!" There was a tremor in Dave's words that he covered by upending one of the chairs and easily tossing it into the living room, making them both flinch as it clattered onto the carpeting.

"I left Olivia with Rachel while I went out and she told her, I didn't mean for it to happen! I didn't want Rachel to find out any more than you did!" she rapidly tried to explain, knowing that the situation was escalating too fast and that she would probably be the next object being tossed around.

"Then why did you go to her?"

"I just…" Looking down – too ashamed to admit that she of all people would actually need someone or their aid – Santana submitted like she always did and quietly changed the subject, "She wants me to stay with her and her dads for a few days…"

"Santana," Dave said warningly. It was enough to have to deal with the issues concerning their sham of a marriage, but to bring Rachel and her gay fathers into the equation was more than he wanted to handle. "I hope you're joking."

"I can fix it." Santana lifted her head hopefully, willing Dave to believe her. "That's what I needed to tell you, I just need to stay with her for a while. I can convince her that everything is fine. You know I can."

"Yeah, because you're a grade A liar," Dave agreed and then seemed to calm, even going so far as to sit down in one of the remaining chairs. "You just better fucking hope that you can fix this because I swear, Santana, if Rachel says anything to anyone…" There was really nothing he could do now except turn over the control that he had held over Santana for years.

"I'll tell her it was all a lie. I'll tell her…I'll tell her that it was just something Olivia made up, like something from some movie I shouldn't have let her watch, you know?"

Again, Dave agreed, nodding his head thoughtfully and wondering if that could actually be a convincing story to someone like Rachel. "You think she would go for that?"

Santana gave a nervous smile and a half nod, half jolt of giddy excitement and fear. "She has to. Olivia is just a kid, what does she know? It could all be bullshit for all Rachel knows." The irony did not escape her as she lied through her teeth about making up future lies. She had already confirmed everything Olivia had said and then some.

"And your explanation for that…" Dave waved a hand toward her injured face.

"Maybe I got really drunk?" Santana shrugged with a sly, almost creepy grin. "Maybe I smashed my face into a sidewalk?"

"I guess whatever she'll believe is what we'll go with," Dave sighed and then completely gave in, naively putting his trust in someone who had no reason to do right by him. "Just go get whatever you came for and get out, before she has both of us put away."

For a split second, Santana found herself pausing out of pure shock; it had been so easy. Studying her husband in his defeat, she made the decision to believe that he wasn't trying to manipulate her in some cruel way. He was really letting her go.

~S~R~S~R~S~R~S~R~

As soon as Santana had disappeared from view, Rachel had opened the driver's side door of the car, wanting to be able to hear if anything happened. Kids played in their front yard three houses down, laughing and yelling and making Rachel shoot a quick glare in their direction due to the noise. They were only enjoying themselves though, it was summer after all and she instantly regretted wishing that they would be quiet. She wondered what Olivia was doing with her fathers and she hoped that even if Olivia wasn't having fun that at least she felt safe.

After pressing one of the speed dial keys on her phone, she lifted it to her ear, not preferring to use the speaker option as she usually did. "Miranda? It's Rachel. Look, I don't have a lot of time to talk, I – no! Don't interrupt me, this is important!"

"God, Rachel, if this is how Ohio makes you act then you can just stay there…"

Her manager then paused on the other end after she had yelled at her and Rachel silently cursed herself. "Miranda, I'm so sorry…I'm just…I don't know how to explain this or if I even can but I'm kind of going through a difficult situation right now…"

"Okay? You're freaking me out. Are you in trouble, do you need me to send someone out there?"

"No, no, it's nothing like that…" She stopped talking when a reflection on the front window of the house made her heart jump, thinking it was movement from inside. "And I know I should be calling my assistant for favors, but this is a personal favor, I need you to do something for me as a friend. I trust you and I need someone I trust right now."

"Okay, now you're really freaking me out. I'll do it, obviously. Rachel, tell me what the fuck is going on…"

"I have a…a friend…from high school," her voice knotted up in her throat and suddenly she was almost crying, spilling out all of the stress that Santana overloaded her with. "Her husband, he's been like…beating the shit out of her. I picked her up from jail this morning and her lip is all split open and –"

"You need to calm down or I won't be able to do anything. Why is she in jail if her husband, no never mind, just tell me what you need me to do."

Rachel knew that Miranda's all business attitude was probably for the best in the situation and she knew that Miranda would care just because Santana was a friend of a friend, but Rachel was the one who had to help out a broken woman and it was all she could think about at the moment.

"No, you don't understand! She's –"

"Rachel, I understand, okay? I promise I do and I want your friend to be okay just as much as you do. Now, you called me for a reason, tell me what I need to do."

Taking a deep breath, Rachel focused herself again. "I need you to get in touch with my lawyers. You don't have to say anything, but just let them know that I'm going to be calling them…soon. And, I can't stress this enough, do not let any of the media get wind of this. If the name Santana Lopez or Santana Karofsky crosses anyone's desk in that city I want you to shut it down. I don't care who you have to pay off or how much it costs, I'll take care of it…but she doesn't need that right now or ever, and especially not because of her relation to me."

~S~R~S~R~S~R~S~R~

In the next instant, Santana was standing with her back to the inside of her and Dave's bedroom door taking deep breaths. Again, she was frozen in place, letting her eyes dart around the room for things she would need while trying to wrap her head around what had just happened. It hadn't gone overly well, but it had gone surprisingly better than expected. After she had given herself a moment to gather herself she started to act.

There was a suitcase in the closet with a broken zipper that Dave used for "business trips," as if a construction job really required business trips, but she didn't care. It was a far cry from who she used to be in high school, but she would've carried her belongings out of that house in a burlap sack. It wasn't the suitcase that mattered; it was everything she was going to jam into it – some clothing, what jewelry she had, Olivia's birth certificate and baby book, the last quarter of her life.

After ransacking the bedroom she went into the bathroom, getting a visual assault from the day before. "Shit," she practically hissed, using one hand to cover her eyes, blocking out the random traces of blood and the small pile of clothing on the floor.

Wetting it under the sink faucet, she used her hand to wipe away rusty colored swatches – fingerprints – that had been leftover on the edge of the clear plastic shower curtain. She didn't care so much about the blood as she did about the clothing; the blood was just easier to think about. There was a decision to be made, but making the correct choice was a difficult one.

Knowing that her ten minute limit was probably closing in on her, Santana still sat on the edge of the bathtub and stared at the pile of clothes. The skirt she had been wearing lied on the floor and her shirt on top of that, but the item of probable importance was hidden between the two. Using just her fingertips she moved the shirt aside and the scent of cigarette smoke, sweat, stale perfume and whatever else she had gotten into met her senses. The barely there black panties were exactly where she had put them, with their dried, whitish stains so obviously visible.

Whether it was from the smell, the stress, all of the toxicities she had consumed in the past days or all of the above, she found herself clenching her jaw and attempting to swallow the saliva gathering in her mouth. But it was no use, not having time to lift the lid of the toilet she turned around and vomited into the bathtub instead. Seeing the bite of donut from Rachel's breakfast offering set her off further and she continued to gag until only sour, neon green bile would come up.

Santana didn't wait for her wooziness to pass before she stood, braced herself with a hand on the countertop and began rummaging in the lower cabinets. It didn't take long for her to find the roll of plastic bags that went in the waste basket but her shaky hands – which she swore would never be still again – refused to cooperate with her.

"Fuck, come on," she cursed, rolling the thin plastic between her fingers trying to open one of the bags. She was almost sure that she could hear some phantom sirens in the distance and her hairline was starting to break out in sweat.

When the bag finally opened, she experienced the strangest rush of relief as she swept her discarded clothes inside and then shoved it into the suitcase. She felt as if she was stealing something from Dave when it actuality she was probably taking something of hers back from him. It wasn't clear to her how she had gone from suicide to gathering clues to possibly exact revenge, but she didn't have time to reflect on her mood swings.

She practically crashed out into the hallway, stumbling over the unfamiliar shoes she was wearing, and then made it back to the kitchen within a matter of seconds. Dave was still seated at the table and texting on his cell phone. Whoever he was talking to or whatever he was telling them, she didn't care. She was nearly free.

The last thing she picked up was the duffel bag she used for stripping, before breezing back out the door, saying, "I'll be in touch…"

One corner of her mouth twisted up in a smirk and for a fleeting moment she felt like Santana Lopez again, someone who was bold and unafraid of anyone else. Immediately seeing Rachel standing against the hood of her car with her cell phone poised in her hand put Santana back in reality again and she was no longer the heroine of her own story. Oddly, she was okay with that. She had been waiting for this opportunity, she just hadn't known it.

"It's been longer than ten minutes," she called knowingly, almost out of breath as she pulled the heavy suitcase and walked quickly. "You didn't call."

Rachel appeared struck, torn between guilt and embarrassment. "I-I…I didn't know…"

High on her short lived moment of power, Santana was sympathetic. "It's okay," she said as she waited at the trunk while Rachel fumbled with her key fob to open it. "It's harder to do than it would seem, I would know." After putting everything in, she didn't hesitate in getting back into the car, closing the door and anticipating the sound of the locks engaging.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Rachel apologized, not entirely sure of herself as she mirrored Santana's urgency and started the car. "Everything was okay?"

"He was sleeping," Santana lied. The locks clunked automatically as Rachel shifted into reverse and she couldn't recall feeling so safe in quite some time. "Let's get the fuck out of here."


Thanks for reading!