Author's note: this is what happened when Santana was away for a few days right before 'Senior Year, 1 month ago'.
''Emily?''
Two big, swollen eyes glanced her way. Santana saw her pitch black pupils widen before Emily narrowed her eyes. Emily tilted her head a little and smirked while she leaned forward to snort the white line that lay on the glass table in front of her.
Santana glanced around the small basement. It was dusty and smoky and the people looked dull. They were hanging around the sofa, a few of them were smoking from a bong and the others were busy rolling spliffs. Santana crossed her arms, confused with the situation.
''Can I help you?'', Emily raised her eyebrow at Santana.
Santana shrugged. ''Can I help you?''
Emily leaned back and pointed at the bong on the shelf behind Santana. ''You could pass that over to me.''
Santana shook her head. ''What happened to you?''
With a grin Emily lit up a cigarette. ''Don't pretend like you know me well. Can you give me the bong now?''
''Why did you leave me those strange voicemails Emily?''
Emily shrugged. ''I was confused, but you can leave now, I'm all right.''
Santana looked around the messy room. It was filled with smoke and practically everything except from the sofa and the table was covered with dust. The floor was covered with pizza boxes –some of them with half-eaten pizzas in it- and dirty clothes.
Santana poked one of the boxes with her feet and gagged when a rotten pizza appeared in sight. ''Clearly you're not. You´re calling me in the middle of the night, leaving me voicemails telling me you're about to take an overdose or slit through your own wrists with your razor.''
Emily seemed amused by Santana's disgust. A crafty smirk spread across her face while she spread her arms, as a way of welcoming Santana. ''Feel free to grab something to eat, someone worked their ass off to make to that pizza San.''
''Thanks for wasting my time Ems'', Santana forced a smile and stepped over the mess, making her way out of the dusty cave.
''Did you really rape that Quinn girl?''
Santana froze when she heard Emily's raspy voice. She put herself together before she turned around, facing a curious Emily.
''I'm not here to talk about me'', even Santana herself could hear the doubt in her voice.
Emily patted with her hand on the free space next to her on the sofa. ''I didn't ask you to come.''
Santana removed an empty box from the armrest of the sofa Emily was sitting on and sat down. She didn't want to risk getting a gross disease which the sofa probably was infected with.
Emily leaned back and kicked her feet up to rest them on the coffee table. She offered Santana her joint. ''Spliff?''
Santana shook her head. ''Trying to diminish.''
Emily slowly nodded. ''Smart. Can I offer you something else?'' She pointed at the glass table.
For a moment Santana hesitated but she knew how proud Brittany would be when she would tell her she didn't smoke or do any other drugs while she was away. Santana wondered if Brittany had already notice she wasn't in Lima but she doubted it because it was Friday and the last time Santana saw her was yesterday. She didn't see any problems if she would be back by Monday.
''No, thanks'', Santana refused her –Santana guessed to Emily it was just a hospitable gesture- offer.
''Why not?''
''I just promised my girlfriend I would try to diminish since she doesn't like the whole drugs thing.''
Emily raised her eyebrow. She was clearly surprised. ''That Quinn chick?''
Santana sighed. ''No. Her name is Brittany.''
''So the rumors were true'', Emily stared blankly. ''Never thought you'd be the gay type of person.''
''Never thought you'd be the look-at-me-being-pathetic-and-hipster kind of hobo that loses herself to drugs'', Santana snapped back at her.
Emily scowled at her. ''That's an interesting point of view'', she mumbled slowly.
Santana put up her hand. ''Hold up. I just offended you and you're not even mad at me?''
''Nah'', Emily simply replied. ''Tell me about her.''
Santana leaned back a bit and smiled. ''She's kind. Careless. She's everything I'm not.''
She glanced at Emily who was glassy-eyed staring at her. ''I guess those drugs really fucked up your personality Emily, normally you would be close to beating the crap out of me.''
Emily gave her a weak smirk. ''It has its benefits. So tell me, what happened at cheerleading camp a few years ago?''
Santana sighed. Cheerleading camp was the last thing she wanted to talk about because she was trying to leave it behind.
''Quinn kissed me, Madison saw it. Quinn freaked out so she told everyone I raped her. Her brother wanted to beat the shit out of me so I left since nobody believed me.''
''Shit, I can't believe I missed out on that reality show'', Emily grinned.
''Yeah, speaking about that, where the fuck were you Emily? I could've used someone to back me up'', Santana said pungently.
Emily thought for a moment. ''You wouldn't believe me anyways.''
Santana shrugged. ''Depends on it.''
''You remember that other head coach? The Australian girl?''
Santana's mouth dropped. The pieces of the story started to fall into places. ''No way.''
Emily nodded. ''We were in Port Clinton that day. I really liked her you know.''
''So what does it mean? Are you gay?''
Emily's face expression hardened. ''Fuck no, of course not.''
''Sorry. Didn't know it is a sore spot.'' Santana decided to risk it and took a cookie from the table in front of her. It was a bit hard-bitten but better than Santana expected. She heard Emily giggling next to her.
''What?'', Santana mumbled.
''Those aren't normal cookies San'', Santana saw Emily had to restrain herself from laughing.
Santana rolled her eyes. 'Screw you Emily.'' She ate the whole cookie anyways and grabbed another one since she was hungry. These didn't count because she didn't know there was weed in it.
''Where were you at the beginning of Sophomore Year?'', Santana spattered crumbles around.
''Some problems'', Emily shrugged.
''With who?''
Emily sighed. ''My mother is manic-depressive so I had to take care of her. My dad left us and soon after that my brother killed himself.''
''Shit'', Santana mumbled. ''Why didn't you tell anyone? Or at least me?''
Emily took the plate with the cookies from the table and started gorging on them. ''I only knew you for a few months and I can take care of myself.''
Santana took the plate from her hands and placed them behind her so Emily couldn't reach them. Emily rolled her eyes at her. ''And, when I came back you were already kicked off Carmel High.''
Santana crossed her arms. ''Okay what rumors did you hear? Bring it.''
Emily clamped her joint between her teeth to straighten. She raised her index finger. ''One, you didn't make it to the cheerleading squad and you went all Lima Heights on the principal.''
Santana shook her head. ''I'd wish.''
Emily also raised her middle finger. ''I like this one. Karofsky told me you got pregnant by an Asian exchange student and you moved to Korea to start a family.''
''Karofsky?'', Santana couldn't help scoffing.
Emily nodded. ''Yeah Karofsky. Do you know him? He's a senior at Carmel High.''
''You mean Dave? He goes to McKinley.''
''No'', Emily dreamily stared at the smoke she just blew out. ''His brother, Igor.''
Santana frowned. Igor is Dave's brother? It kind of made sense since they both had the same stupid look on their faces.
''I'm not pregnant. What else did you hear?''
''Right'', Emily grinned again. ''The last one is that Igor cheated on you so you fucked his best friend, put his locker on fire and read out all his texts through the intercom.''
Santana couldn't hold back her laugh. ''Igor and I had a relationship? Never. But the last one is the closest.''
''Tell me.''
Santana sat down on the place next to Emily and slumped down. Now that she was sitting she could clearly feel the effect of the cookies she just ate. She felt a little tired but relaxed at the same time.
''It were your cute little friends'', Santana started while she opened a bottle that stood in front of her. ''When I saw them in the hallway the first day of school I already had the feeling they were going to tell everybody about cheerleading camp but I just tried to ignore them.''
Emily looked at the bottle. ''Maybe that isn't smart Santana.''
Santana scoffed and poured the liquor in a glass. ''You should really mind your own business. Anyways, as I expected they told everyone in a week so soon everyone indentified me as The Girl Who Raped The Poor Religious Quinn Fabray.'' Santana pulled a pout and made question marks in the air.
Emily smirked and shook her head disapprovingly. ''Poor little Quinn.''
''So I decided to ignore it, and you know me, that's a big deal. I ignored it for a few weeks and this one day I walked to my locker and Trace, Madison and Grace were blocking it. You have to know I really tried to ask them to go away as nice as possible.''
Emily raised her eyebrow at Santana who was staring at her.
''When I tried to walk around them Madison grabbed my bag while Trace and Grace grabbed my wrists. I don't know how it happened but my fist kind of landed on their faces from reflex.''
Emily choked in the smoke she was exhaling. When she recovered her breath she burst out laughing. ''I totally wish I would've seen that.''
Santana nodded. ''They managed to put the blame on me so I had to go to the principal. I got a warning and I got detention and I wasn't going to take that so I solved it, Lima Heights style.''
''I guess the part of you setting a locker on fire comes next?''
''Yup'', Santana took a swig from her glass. The amount of alcohol she was consuming was really getting out of the hand but Santana liked the feeling alcohol gave her, because all she just wanted was to feel something.
''I cracked their locker combinations and set their lockers on fire while they had cheerleading practice. I kind of have a police record now.''
Emily nodded, questionable. ''If someone hurts you, make the bitch pay'', she muttered slowly.
Santana raised her eyebrow at her. ''Who said that?''
''Me.'''
''How's that working out for you?'', Santana glanced at a visibly absent Emily. ''Looks like the only person hurting you is yourself.''
Emily narrowed her eyes and took a whiff from her joint. ''Profound.''
Santana put down her glass on the table and leaned forward towards Emily, who conscientiously followed every move she made. Santana carefully let her finger run over Emily's wrist. The skin on her wrist was coarser and a few shades paler. She followed one of the many light pink scars all the way to the beginning of Emily's upper arm. Santana noticed Emily quickly looked if the other people in the room were looking at them but they were too busy with themselves.
''Hurting yourself is not the answer Ems'', Santana looked up to see Emily's face.
Emily gulped lightly. ''I just want to feel something.''
Shit, that sounded familiar.
Santana pulled back her arm and slumped down. ''You can feel in so many different ways, and that´s coming from me.''
Emily reached out her joint to Santana. She waved with her hand when she saw Santana's disapproving face expression. ''Can you hold it? Someone's calling me.'' She took her phone and rolled her eyes at Santana when she saw who was calling her. ''Karofsky'', she mentioned while she took back her joint. Apparently Igor pushed off because Emily just listened for a few minutes.
''Nah, listen Igor, here´s what´s going to happen'', Emily started her sentence fiercely but apparently Igor broke her off because she stopped talking.
Emily scowled. ''No?'' She was silent for a moment.
''No it's your own fault for being stupid as fuck. I'm not with you this time. Find someone else to do it'', Emily broke off the phonecall and tossed away her phone with an angry glance.
Santana handed her the joint. ''Do I even want to know?''
Emily clinged her joint between her teeth again and stood up, grabbing the fullest bottle from the table. Santana heard her mumbling a few indistinct curses.
''You'', Emily pointed at a chubby boy that was sitting on the sofa in front of them, ''call Nadya, tell her the deal is off.''
The boy looked puzzled. ''Off? But I thought…'', he stumbled in attempt to oppose her.
Emily kicked the coffee table with her feet, causing it to fall over and disseminate all the stuff across the room. The boy recoiled on the sofa, pulling in his legs which rested on the table before.
''Off'', Emily hissed. ''Ain't paying shit for his crap.'' She stepped over the mess and made her way up the staircase.
''Em! What are you going to do?'', Santana got ready to stand up.
Emily didn't turn around but Santana could see her shrugging, carelessly.
''Drink myself to death.''
/
Santana looked up at the willow she was standing under. A cold gust caused her to shiver, so she wrapped her coat around her tighter. People were beginning to leave but she didn't have the heart for it to leave Emily. Not yet.
''Hey Santana, are you coming with us?'' Dave came her way and reached out his arm to her. He was a different person then he was at school. He was softer, friendlier.
Santana glanced at him and pulled off a weak smile. ''You don't have to wait for me, really.''
Dave nodded and pulled back his arm. ''We'll be at the parking lot.''
''Thanks'', Santana mumbled with a husky voice.
She waited until he left before she watched at the same spot again. The spot they buried Emily about half an hour ago. The place felt gloomy and it made Santana think of her dad again. For years she managed to push away her feelings about her dads' death but she couldn't ignore them anymore once she entered the cemetery.
She let out a shaky sigh and sat down besides the heap of sand. The cold ground was terrible but she didn't care. She would sit there day and night if she had to, under the delusion that she was doing something useful, like not leaving Emily. Because as a matter of fact that's what she did, she left Emily when she needed Santana the most and that was one of the main reasons Santana was sitting next to her grave right at this very moment.
The last time Santana saw Emily was when she walked out on her in the basement, telling Santana that she was going to drink herself to death, and that's exactly what she did. Emily drank herself to death. That same night Santana got called by Emily's mother, who told her the police found her. She crashed her car into a tree and died instantly. The police found empty liquor bottles and traces of drug use in her car.
Lost in thoughts, Santana felt something wet welling up in the corner of her eye. Tears started rolling down her face but she didn't bother wiping them away.
''Come on'', a voice came from behind her.
Santana felt a warm hand on her upper back and another one on her hip. She followed the hand willingly and stood up.
''Let's get you out of here'', Igor smiled his familiar wide smile at her but Santana stared blankly ahead.
Igor hesitated for a moment but then took off his blazer and wrapped it around Santana, turning her around. He clamped his arm around Santana's and started walking.
''Do you want me to bring you home?''
Santana shook her head. ''No, not home. Please bring me somewhere else, I don't care where.''
''Okay'', Igor neatly opened his car door for her to step in.
He got in the car and quickly glanced at Santana, who was absently staring ahead. ''Here'', he handed her an old pair of sneakers, ''put these one, your feet must be sore.''
Santana glanced at her feet. Igor was right, her feet were swollen because she walked on high heels all day.
''Why do you have a pair of women's sneakers in your car?'', she scowled at him while she put them on.
He glanced at the rear-view mirror. ''They're my sisters'.''
''God, do you also have a sister? Did your dad have a secret lover beside your mother to procreate his germs?'', Santana scoffed.
Igor smiled. ''Glad to notice you're yourself again, but yes, I do have a sister. Her name's Nadya.''
Santana slumped back in her chair. ''Well, you bring out the best in me Igor.''
''I see'', Igor nervously looked in the rear-view window again, ''can you do me a favor?''
''Depends on it.''
Igor turned left and pulled over. ''Please don't be your gay self and win over the pig.''
''What?'', Santana narrowed her eyes.
Her answer immediately came when someone knocked on the window. Igor rolled down his window and faked an innocent smile.
''Good day, sir'', Igor exulted.
The cop crouched a little to stick his head through the open window. ''Sir, ma'am'', he greeted them.
''Uh, hi'', was the only thing Santana managed to utter.
''Can you open your trunk? We'd like to have a look at your car.''
''Yeah sure'', Igor opened his door and followed the cop.
For a moment Santana panicked but then she realized she didn't bring any weed or liquor with her because she was in a hurry when she heard Emily's voicemails.
Igor got back in the car and turned his key around.
The cop smiled at them. ''Have a nice day.''
Santana nodded at him. ''You too.''
Igor pulled op fast and within a few minutes they were on the road again.
''Are you gonna tell what that was all about?'', Santana raised her eyebrow at Igor.
He shrugged. ''They caught me before so every now and then they look for me to search through my car.''
''Surprising.'' Santana kicked up her feet on the dashboard and leaned back. ''So where are we going?''
''You'll see.'' Igor turned left and continued driving on a bumpy, narrow road. After a few minutes he left the road and drove them into a dry duct. A calm brook flowed through the duct and in the distance a road bridge bridged the gap between the two walls.
Igor got out of the car and beckoned Santana. ''Want a drink?''
Santana shrugged. ''Sure, why not.''
Igor portioned them off with his jacket and lit up a cigarette. He took a small can from his inside pocket and handed it over to Santana.
''What's in it?''
He grinned. ''You liked it very much the last time I saw you so I guess you still do.''
''Whatever'', Santana leaned against the bumper and took a swig from the can. ''What are you doing?''
Igor, who had climbed on the roof of the car, slid down. He leaned on his elbow and held his face close to Santana's.
''I need you to do something for me.''
''Again?'', Santana scoffed, ''you must be very happy you ran into me at the funeral.''
''I need you to listen carefully.''
Santana pulled back her face. ''Please back off, you stink.''
Igor frowned at her. ''Your shoes.''
''No, it's probably you because you were gorging like a diabetic at the funeral's reception.''
Igor clamped his cigarette between his lips and squatted. ''I need your shoes.'' He started to untie the laces.
''Nah'', Santana jumped off the bumper. ''Why do you want them?''
Igor glanced in the distance. ''Just fucking give me the shoes Santana.''
Santana grinned. ''Ah, that's why you were so nervous when the police showed up, there's something it them.''
''I'm serious Santana'', Igor pointed at a car that was quickly coming their way, ''they're no joke.''
''What's in them? Happy pills?'', Santana backed off so Igor couldn't reach her shoes.
The car had parked next to their car and three guys stepped out. They were tall and muscular and like Igor said, they didn't look like they were in for a joke.
''You've got the stuff?'', the tallest guy with a grey beard asked Igor.
''Yeah, she's got the shoes'', Igor pointed at Santana.
The other guy stepped forward. ''Where's Emily?''
''She couldn't make it'', Igor simply responded.
''Ah that's why you wanted to help me, I'm just a pawn in your fucked up, twisted little game'', Santana scoffed at Igor, who started to look nervous.
Igor rolled his eyes. ''Just give them the shoes Santana.''
Santana crossed her arms. ''Emily is dead'', she felt weird actually saying it out loud.
''What do you mean dead?'', the guy with the beard looked puzzled.
''She is…'', Igor started but Santana broke him off.
''Uh I mean dead like, she killed herself, dead.''
He stepped forward and reached out his hand. ''I'm sorry to hear that but we're just here for business, can you give me the shoes?''
''You know what? I think I'm leaving'', Santana walked over to the car and sat down on the driver's seat.
Igor put his hands on the bonnet to restrain her from driving away. ''Give them the damn shoes Santana.''
Santana pulled a questioning expression for a few seconds. ''I'm passing out on that. So is this what you and Emily were always doing together? You were like drug dealing partners?''
Igor let out a sigh. ''I just needed someone to put on the shoes because the police would investigate the shoes since I'm not a woman.''
''Still leaving'', Santana started the engine.
''Fucking listen to me'', Igor punched with his fists on the bonnet but before he could end his sentence someone behind him hit his head against the bonnet. Igor collapsed and fell on the ground.
Santana reached out to lock her door but one of the three guys already opened it.
''It would be unfortunate if I had to hit a woman, so give me the shoes and nobody gets hurt'', the guy who had opened her door hissed.
''Jesus, this isn't South Beach Tow'', Santana rolled her eyes. ''Ain't no fucking Bernice.''
The man grabbed her upper arm to pull her out of the car but Santana was faster. She kicked his face with her foot, causing him to pass out.
She turned around to close the door and drive away but she didn't notice one of the guys sitting on the driver's mate seat. He grinned a dopey grin at her. ''Sleep well.''
Before Santana realized what was happening she saw a fist coming closer, followed by a sharp pain close to her eyes. Something in her neck crunched and right before everything turned black she rolled out of the car, her body encountering with the rough and ruthless asphalt.
/
Santana moaned lightly. A stab of pain woke her up. It felt like her body was glued to the asphalt. With difficulty she moved her arm to strike away a flock from her face. With all the energy left in her body she managed to stand up. She pushed with her hand on her forehead but the pain wouldn't go away.
She walked around the car to find Igor still lying in front of the car with two burned shoes next to him. Santana picked up the shoes and shook them but they seemed empty. She glanced at Igor, who seemed pretty lifeless. She poked him with her feet but he didn't respond.
''Stupid Russian'', she mumbled softly.
She picked up the battered shoes and tossed them into the car. Maybe she would ever meet Nadya so she could return them. She leaned back in the driver's seat, lit up a cigarette and glanced at the rear-view mirror. She was still wearing her funeral outfit and looked like she just fought in a war.
How long had she been lying there? An hour? Two hours? Maybe a day? She turned on the engine and slowly pulled up. Maybe it was best to search for a hospital first before she would go back to Lima and, of course, Brittany, who probably would be dead worried by now.