But you can't see

That when you cut

You're hurting me

3:42 am. My room is dark, but the moon seems to shine bright enough to see. I lie in bed and notice that she's still next to me. Wavy, brown hair dances around my pillow as I listen to the sibilant sound coming from her mouth when she exhales. She's actually here. Where she's supposed to be. My hand reaches for the bed sheet that's covering her shoulder blade, where the engraving of my name was once visible, but she fidgets a little. Her body turns to face me and I see that she's awake. The big brown eyes that make me melt begin to open slowly and lock with mine. They pierce into me.

"Tell me what's wrong." she says in a whisper and tucks her hands under her cheek. I don't respond, though. She can still see hurt when she looks into my eyes. I know she can. "Did you find someone else to make you happy?"

Pause.

"...Did you?"

"Never." she replies as her fingers remove the hair strand from my face. The bracelet from last Christmas dangles from her wrist. Her left wrist, where the scars remain.

Minutes on my roman numeral clock tick away, then I feel her move positions in bed. She breathes in deeply and stretches her arms. Her eyes land on me and I feel a fuzzy feeling in my stomach once again. I thought I was angry because she left without letting me know, fearing that she might find someone better, but I just look at her and melt. Being angry isn't an option with her. It just isn't.

"I'm sorry, Brittany." she says suddenly and swallows hard.

"...Why'd you leave without telling me?" I ask and press my bare skin against hers.

"I couldn't. I wasn't brave enough." she replies in a low, but weak, tone. And then I remember...

You're brave, San. You can do anything.

No I can't.

Fine. Name one thing you can't do.

Look at you and tell myself to leave...I'm not brave enough to do that.

I take in that memory and cherish her structure next to me. Moments of silence pass us as if each second had the quantity of a decade.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

I hear the clock continuously before she inhales and exhales deeply.

"I'm so sorry." she apologizes once again and sits up on the edge of the bed with the sheets covering her breasts. "You know that, right?"

I nod. She feels guilty and I don't want her to because she tried to protect me. Us. Like she always has. I scoot up next to her with the sheets covering my body as well and kiss her shoulder lightly. Her head tilts slightly my way and I see the tear she was trying to hold back run down her left cheek. I wipe it off and shake my head, telling her to stop.

"It doesn't matter anymore because you're here now." I whisper and smile softly. She does she same and sniffs. My lips come in contact with hers momentarily and I can sense the passion in her body make her face light up. She lies back down after me and embraces me tighter than before. As her arms caress my body, I see her wrist as it rests before me on the blanket. I look at the scar that was once opened deep enough to see the different layers of tissue. The one that almost took her away from me. I bring it close to my lips and kiss it gently, wishing the healing tissue would just make the bump vanish and fade into her normal skin. What's important is that it's healing. The wound is no longer cut open like my heart.

[ Later that day ]

It's almost noon. She's still next to me sleeping, her breathing is calm and her skin has a new glow to it. The sun is shining through the lace curtains and filling my room with warmth. Her back is facing me and she's on the right side of my bed, like how it was before. Still, her body heat radiates against my bare skin. The thick sheets cover both our bodies, but I gently uncover her upper chest area, just enough to see her shoulder. Her left shoulder to be exact. Then, I see it. My name in cursive letters. It's still there, it never left. It wasn't removed like I thought it was. Her love for me is permanent; just like that tattoo. Engraved in every part of her body, that even when she bleeds; you see my name.

Our clothing is scattered around the floor and the extra sheets lie on the floor as well. As I sit up, my eyes land on the frames and broken glass that have laid there since June, the time I had knocked everything down. I tried picking them up, but I couldn't. It hurt. The broken glass tempted me too much, so there it remained.

Her eyes begin to flutter open and I smile softly. She sits up as well and looks at the corner of the room where I swept everything into a pile. Her slight smile fades. She hops out of bed and kneels down at the broken debris.

"Did I hurt you that much?" she asks and gathers more of the pictures left, while putting the glass in a paper bag from under my bed. I put on a long t-shirt and race to her side to take away the large glass pieces from her hands.

"San, you're just recovering."

"You're treating me like a kid, Brittany." she snaps and scoots away from me. I press my lips together and just watch her because I know she doesn't intend to be mean. "I'm sorry. I just...I hate that I hurt you."

"It doesn't matter anymore. I told you...what matters is that you're okay."

Her eyes don't meet mine. They stay glued to the glass and pictures. I turn her wrist so that it's facing me and see the large scar along with smaller ones going up her wrist. Each line has it's own story. It's own reason. It's own pain. All I want to do is to kiss them and watch them disappear into the light, but it's not that easy. They're fading, as well as mine, and years from now, they won't matter anymore.

"You shouldn't be covered in scars..." I whisper and stroke them gently. "Not you."

She smiles lightly and thanks me quietly. I look down at the pictures and set them on her lap. Suddenly, her cell phone rings and she climbs over me to get it. She answers with a smile, but hangs up with a frown and pale face. Her body becomes stiff and she freezes in place.

"Who was it? What happened?" I ask worriedly and try to grab her hand, but she pulls away.

"I have to go."

"Why?"

She slips on proper clothing and begins walking out the door.

"Santana, tell me why!" I say angrily, then she stops in the hallway and turns to face me.

"Adriana is in the hospital." she replies trying to hold back tears. I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out. My lungs feel like they can no longer contract to fill with air.

"Amelia just called me and said she slipped and hit her head while she was cleaning the pathway to some stairs in a house."

"...What hospital?"

"Some hospital three hours away from here."

"I'll call a cab."

Three hours later, Santana and I arrive at the hospital. Immediately, we run to Amelia's side and console her. Her eyes are puffy and red, while her hands are cold and shaky. She hugs Santana, then she heads for the front desk. Amelia turns to me and hugs me tightly while taking deep breaths.

"Brittany!" I hear a high pitched voice and turn the opposite direction. Alissa and Michael are running towards me, then they cling to my legs. Hailey walks up behind them with bloodshot eyes and a tissue in hand. She forces a smile to her face when she locks eyes with me, but then breaks down when I hold her in my arms. Amelia takes the kids away and I pull Hailey aside.

"When I saw her on the stretcher," she begins and sniffs. "there was so much blood..."

A tear streams down my face, remembering the day I had seen Santana ooze blood like a faucet, but I wipe it quickly. She needs support. Not me crying and making it worse. My thumb wipes the remaining tear from her cheek and we lock eyes once more.

"She'll be fine." I whisper. "I promise."

She nods, then hugs me tightly. Santana stands by the front desk looking down at the floor blankly. Without emotion. Hailey goes with Amelia and I go over to Santana. She looks up and breathes out deeply.

"They said we can see her later tonight."

I reach for her wrist, but she pulls away. Again, I try and she stiffens, but quickly gives in and rests her head on my chest. A soft sob escapes her throat and my heart clenches. I hate seeing her cry. If only she knew it killed me inside.

8:41 pm. Santana and I are walking toward Adriana's room. The doctor told us she hit her pretty hard, resulting in slight memory loss. As we stand in front of the door, she hesitates for a moment, and then reaches for the knob. I walk in behind her and see that Adriana is awake. I smile and she smiles a very confused smile. Her doctor twists his head in our direction, then turns to Adriana once more. He checks her eyes with a flashlight, and checks her pulse. As soon as he finishes, he pulls Santana and I aside.

"Your mother is in mild condition, although she won't remember names or recent events, she will remember as time goes on." he flips the papers on his clipboard and puts the small flashlight in his coat pocket. "Be very patient with her. Her eyes will be sensitive to the light, so keep it low. She'll be with us for more than a couple of days."

"So we can't take her home?" Santana asks and crosses her arms to her chest.

"Not yet. She should be here at least until Tuesday."

"D-does she know who I am?"

He looks over to Adriana and sighs. "I'm sorry, but it's not likely." he begins writing things on the clipboard, then stops and places his pen in his pocket. "Have a nice day."

He walks out. Santana stands beside Adriana shocked. I can see it in her face. She doesn't speak. She doesn't move. She just stands before her, motionless. Bandages circle her head as well as tubes in different areas. It all looks too familiar. Adriana stares at her with complete fascination and tries her best to make out what's going on.

"You know my name, right?" Santana asks softly and stands beside her. "You know my name...tell me my name. Tell me my name!" she demands and Adriana's eyes widen in shock. I pull Santana as the nurses run in along with Amelia and tell her to calm down.

"I'll take her and the kids home. Stay here with her."

Amelia nods, hands me her car keys, then walks to Adriana quickly. Santana tries to fight my grip, but gives up once we walk into the waiting room.

"What if she doesn't remember, Brittany?" she sobs and walks backwards towards the exit. "What if she never remember who I am? Who any of us are?"

I press my lips and pull her towards me to console her.

"She will."

"How do you know?"

I don't respond. I sigh and just hug her. Hug her as tight as possible so that she remembers she won't be alone. Soon enough, Michael, Alissa, and Hailey walk up beside us.

"Is she okay?" Hailey asks softly and tucks her hair behind her ear. I look over to Santana as she wipes her tears. "You said she'd be fine. You promised!" she shouts and runs towards the hospital exit. Santana grabs the kids and I give her Amelia's car keys. I run to Hailey and sit her down on the bench out in the parking lot. She sniffs and looks the other way, avoiding eye contact with me.

"You promised..." she says coldly. "What's wrong with her?"

"She won't remember who we are for a couple of days. Weeks maybe."

"Will she ever remember me?"

I lick my lips as she turns to face me. Eyes so big and brown, like Santana's. They run in the family. "She will. You want to know why?"

She nods.

"Tell me the best memory you had with your mom..."

She thinks, then giggles as her eyes stay glued to the pavement before her. "One time, we were at the laundromat and she filled the soap container with too much soap, then bubbles started coming out of nowhere. We grabbed our wet clothes and ran out laughing so hard. That's when she didn't work so much. Now she works all the time and I barely see her..."

Tears form in my eyes, but I look up at the sky to blink them away. Girls her age need a mom and I'm going to try to fix that. Being without a mom at the time you need her the most, is like...I don't even know how to compare.

"Do you think she'll forget that?"

She shrugs.

"Well, the right side of your brain controls your memory and feelings. If she can remember that, then she'll put all the memories you guys had together and connect them to her heart...you can't forget about someone you love."

"Like how you didn't forget about Santana?" her eyes avert from the pavement to mine and she smiles softly while wiping her damp face.

"Yeah," I breathe out and watch Santana buckle the kids into the car. "something like that."

I can feel her stare at me, intrigued. As if she were reading me. Gosh, I hate it when people did that.

"You think she'll remember when she comes back?" she asks hopefully. I nod and tap her nose playfully as we head toward the car.

We arrive at the residential parking at the apartment minutes later and everyone begins walking out. Here, its worse than where she was before. It's unsanitary, there are different stains of I don't know what on the cement down the corridor. Drunk men surround different parts of the area, but Santana walks behind me with our hands laced together, tightly and securely, along with the kids. She eyes them with her evil glare that always seems to scare anyone walking in her path. Lights flicker above us, but she doesn't seem to care.

We make it inside safely and I put the kids in bed. Santana sits on the couch staring at the wall blankly. Her face is pale and her eyes are puffy as well. She covers her eyes with one hand, but either way, I see a tear stream down her cheek.

"I'm sorry," she whispers softly and swallows hard. "when I was in the hosptial, I didn't know you were hurting this much. Now that I feel it, I'm sorry a-and I love you so much, Brittany." she sobs and I tilt her chin up to look at me. As the tears stream down her face, I want them to go down freely on mine as well. But I have to be strong. I have to protect her.

"I can't keep losing people..." she finishes as I wipe the tears on her cheeks. My arms wrap around her tightly.

"She'll be fine. Just give her some time and in a couple of days she'll remember you and me and even the people she saw at the grocery store the other day..."

She looks up at me and smiles halfheartedly. "You think so?"

I nod. "Can you stop crying now?" I ask in a whisper and push her bangs back. "I hate it when you cry..."

She nods as well and leans into me, resting her head on my chest. I kiss her head and sigh. Today, I woke up from a dream and witnessed a nightmare. I bet she's asking herself why I'm not crying. Why I'm not panicking. I can't. Someone has to be strong for her, for everyone.