Santana looked at Sam, then back to Mr. Pierce and wondered if she should let them in.
Of course, she had to. This is not her house.
Brittany was wearing the same face as Santana's shocked one when Sam walked in the room with her father.
"Hi, Britt…" Sam wore a smile that seemed to break his face in half. The velvet box was nowhere to be seen, and he strutted across the room like some proud pony.
"Hi, Sam. Hi Dad," suddenly, Brittany's voice felt so small, her lips were parched and she can't' help but fidget on the hem of her shirt.
"How are you doing?" Edward asked.
"So-so," Brittany said back, yet she was practically watching Santana's reactions. She couldn't find anything in her face, there wasn't even a single trace of emotion etched in there.
"Britt, I'll be going, I'll see you later," Santana said, her voice flat and somehow, Brittany sensed that it's constricted, like Santana was having this mental and emotional storm inside her again.
Sam was making himself comfortable and taking in the room at a glance and he sat on the couch.
The closing of the door signalled that Santana had hurriedly left the room.
And Brittany stood there, caught up between her father's stare and Sam's expectant eyes. Suddenly, she felt as if she had no choice.
She sprinted to the door, and down the stairs to the sidewalks.
The cold wind whipped Santana's face as her tears fell on the sidewalk. She stormed into the dark, but before she could even reach the threshold, a high-pitched voice travelled to reach her ears.
"Santana! Santana, wait! Are you okay? What the hell, you can't bail out on me like that," Brittany called out.
Santana hurriedly hid her form into the dark shadows of the night and held her breath, her lungs constricting as if she have to breath, Brittany would find her.
She watched the blonde girl hang her head dejectedly, after realizing that Santana was nowhere to be found. She slowly took small steps along the sidewalk. Her crest fell and heaved drastically and her shoulders sagging, Brittany went inside her building.
Santana watched the blonde's room from afar, wanting to know, yet dreading that she would know. She saw Sam get down on one knee, and then on second thoughts, Santana looked away and turned her heels hurriedly, and the next thing she knew was she was running to the dark, again.
Santana sat on the lonely bench where she first saw Brittany. She just sat there, and cried. There was nothing more she could do. And she can't even understand why she had let herself be hurt again.
She curled herself into the bench and made an effort to just forget everything else.
It must have been a few hours more when she realized what was happening. She was soaking wet from the icy rain and she was shivering terribly. But she did not make any effort to stand up or do anything.
Everything just hurt.
There was nothing that she could even think of doing. Santana just wanted to die and she just hoped that all these were just a bad dream and that at some point she would wake up and see that her mother was leaning over her, bringing forth a muffin for her breakfast.
But the pain was all too real.
She had lost again. She had lost to the dark again.
She needed an escape.
Santana walked to the Chrysler Building and took the elevators up to the sixty-first floor, and she stood on the edge before looking down through the wires that held people back.
That was it. She looked down and she knew what she had to do. Santana breathed hard, and then looked from her left. And then she looked to her right. No one was watching. She checked her wrist watch and found that it was already almost two in the morning.
She wondered where time had flown so quickly. But since it wasn't her concern, she quickly lifted her legs and stood atop the nape of the eagle's neck. The cold wind whipped her face, making her falter a little. It is freezing, and her clothes were drenching her. She looked down and wondered if Brittany would even care about her.
She won't. Brittany would never care about her.
Santana couldn't get any wrong.
Brittany was roaming the city streets that night. She was looking frantically for a young brunette and was desperately asking every cop car if ever they had seen a Latina.
Brittany went to Santana's apartment, hoping that she would find her. But when she got there, there was no avail.
"Quinn… I need you to help me find Santana…" Brittany said through the phone as she looked out through the dirty window of the coffee house. It was far from being okay, and she needed to get to Santana as fast as possible.
Or before she could even put her hand on someone else innocent.
If there ever was someone who would turn up dead and torn apart by tomorrow, Brittany's sure that she would be presenting herself in the nearest police station after ten minutes of hearing about it.
Because she knew that it would be Santana who had done it and it was her fault why Santana did it.
The rain dripped on the windows as Brittany watched the cars pull up and pull away from the curb and speed down to 42nd Avenue. It was almost two in the morning, she's tired, she's stressed, she's worried but most of all, she hated herself for letting Santana walk out on her like that. She knew it was her fault, and Sam's too. And her Dad's.
Oh, whatever.
Her eyes travelled up and up to the eagles of Chrysler Building and suddenly, she felt a tug at her heart. She doesn't know why, but there was that urge for her to climb it.
It was kind of weird, so she just pushed it away to the back of her mind, and she tried to hail a cab from the street.