Trigger warning: Violence
Chapter 10
Santana woke up with a jolt. She just had some very vivid dream, and whether it pleased her or not she didn't know, but it was enough to shock her awake. It was a little disappointing because as soon as her deep mocha eyes were open, she couldn't remember a thing about what she dreamt about. She didn't really get dreams that much, probably because you only get dreams when you are in REM sleep or whatever that was, and since Santana's body was always so tired her whole life, her body probably couldn't afford any light sleep so she always passed out like a log whenever she was given the chance. That had some repercussions, however, as she may not be able to wake up as alert as she would like when her previous masters would come in. That would be when she gets slapped awake, and her day would begin.
But oh, how times have changed. Santana tried to smooth her rather messy bed hair with her bare hands and sat up straight on the bed. It could also be noticed how Santana's posture had improved significantly since she set foot in the Fabray estate. This was a good thing, as that meant that the brunette's back was not as problematic as before, her old wounds have nearly completely healed, and she was gaining confidence.
And why would Santana not have confidence? She felt like she was on top of the world: she managed to snag the most amazing girl that the world has to provide! Just the thought of the blonde made Santana's heart swell with adoration and pride. She was so lucky.
Quinn liked her, as more than a friend. Truth be told, Santana had not known that the jolts of electricity that she felt shoot down her spine, the rabble of butterflies that pooled in her stomach every time she got to close proximity to the blonde, was attraction. It wasn't until Quinn kissed her in that night under the moonlight in the confines of her room that Santana had realised that she had a crush on Quinn.
Up to this day, Santana still could not quite believe it. What's so good about her that Quinn sees? Nevertheless, that night, fifteen days ago, was the best night of her life. Easily.
Excitedly, Santana got up to her feet and put on the shirt that said "BEST" on it. She knew that her relationship or whatever they were was meant to be kept a secret to Mr Fabray, but at this point, Santana didn't really care. She was going to put a jacket over that shirt anyway, as it was early morning and it was quite cold, so no one was going to see that shirt. It had become her favourite shirt out of all the ones she had, simply because of all the sentimental value that came along with it and it reminded Santana of all the fun they had the night that they bought it. Although now Santana knew better than to eat too much food, the feeling when you're about to empty the contents of your stomach is not pleasant at all.
After putting on her clothes, Santana left her room and closed the door with a soft click. It wasn't completely bright yet, but Santana didn't care. She ran up two flights of stairs, following the route that she was so familiar with now. Within no time, she found herself in front of the white door to the room that she spent more time in than anywhere else.
The door was unlocked, so she opened it and let herself in. After closing the door lightly, she cast her eyes on the figure that was sprawled on the bed. Quinn was still sleeping, breathing in through her nose and breathing out her mouth with a small puff that was so adorable that Santana just wanted to plant her lips onto the blonde's.
"Wake up," Santana whispered, walking over to Quinn's side and shaking her shoulders. "Wakey-wakey!"
After a few seconds, murky blue eyes opened and Quinn looked disoriented. But soon, they cleared and Quinn rubbed her eyes.
"What time is it?" Quinn mumbled.
"Early," Santana replied. "I don't think anyone else is up yet."
"Oh," Quinn sighed, evidently still very tired. "Why did you wake me up then?"
"I just wanted to see you," Santana admitted. "I couldn't wait after I woke up."
"Aww, that's so cute," Quinn closed her eyes again. "Come here," she said, scooting over a bit and patting the empty space on the bed next to her.
They had done this a few times before, but Santana was still hesitant in getting into the same bed as Quinn.
Quinn could sense Santana's hesitation, even though she wasn't even looking at the brunette. "Come on," she said, still patting the empty space. "I won't bite."
"Okay," Santana said quietly, slipping into bed next to Quinn.
"Hmm," Quinn smiled sleepily and scooted back across, draping an arm over Santana's midsection. Then the blonde yawned, probably because she just woke up and she wanted more sleep. That was understandable: it was still pretty early, after all.
"Is being pretty so tiring?" Santana cooed, saying the first thing that popped into her head. After realising what she had just said, Santana mentally patted herself on the back – that was smooth!
Quinn opened one eye and looked amused. "Hmm, maybe. If that was the case though, then you should be exhausted."
Damn it. Santana couldn't stop the blush that spread through her cheeks and up her ears.
Quinn just laughed heartily and pulled Santana closer, burying her head into the brunette's shoulder, falling back asleep.
By the time that turbid chocolate eyes opened for a second time today, the sun was already pouring in through the curtains. When Santana managed to gather her surroundings, she realised that she was not in her room, where she normally wakes up. Temporary fear had her in a vice grip before the events of what had transpired a few hours ago came back to her, making her relax instantly and closing her eyes again in relief.
When she had taken a few deep breaths in the aftermath of her momentary shock, she opened her eyes and the first thing that she could register was beautiful hazel-green orbs staring right down at her.
"Are you staring at me?" Santana mumbled, voice still a bit low and raspy from sleep.
"No," Quinn instantly said, maybe a little too quickly. When Santana stared her down, Quinn relented, "Okay, maybe."
Santana smiled. "What time is it? How long have you been staring at me for like a creep?"
Quinn blushed. "I wasn't staring at you like a creep!" she said defensively. "But, um, for quite a while. You make these small noises in your sleep and you pout, it's so cute!"
"That's really creepy, Q," Santana frowned.
"No, well, it's not my fault that you're so pretty," Quinn cooed, leaning down to place a tender kiss on Santana's lips.
Even though this had happened more than once ever since Quinn mustered up the courage to kiss her, Santana still could not quite get used to it. Every time their lips so much as grazed, it felt as if fireworks were exploding in her head. Did that sound right? Santana was still a bit unsure about her abstract ideas and metaphors. Anyway, the point is that it brings great enjoyment and pleasure every single time.
Since Santana couldn't find it within herself to be mad at the blonde before her anymore (not that she was mad in the first place, but hey, she wanted to put up a façade), Santana let a smile grace her lips again. "So, you still haven't answered my question. What time is it?"
"About nine," Quinn answered, still staring at her with this funny look on her face. "Maybe we should get up soon."
Santana nodded, but Quinn's staring did not waver, making the brunette slightly uncomfortable. "What?" she said, self-conscious. "Do I have a spider on my face?"
"No," Quinn said. "You must be exhausted."
Santana was a bit confused. "Huh? Why? I just woke up."
"Because you're so pretty that you've been running around my head all day," Quinn explained, shrugging.
There was stark silence that reverberated around the room for a solid fifteen seconds.
"That is so bad," Santana said, and then couldn't help but start laughing.
"Hey!" Quinn defended her lame pick-up line. "You laughed!"
"Yeah, because it is dreadful!" Santana snorted, unable to suppress her giggles.
"Fine," Quinn pouted petulantly. "Let's get up, and go get breakfast."
"Running around my head all day," Santana mocked, still laughing hysterically as she got out of bed.
Quinn gave her a good-natured slap on the arm. "Shut up! I shouldn't have said anything in the first place!"
Santana paid her no mind as she slipped on her sandals, because she was too busy laughing. "Running… haha…" she was still giggling when she left the room.
Quinn sighed and left the room after the brunette.
"Huh?" Quinn said as she got to the kitchen. "Why's there no one here? Where did Brittany go?"
Santana appeared by Quinn's shoulder, after having not initially thought too much of it when she turned up at the kitchen before the blonde. "She doesn't have to be here in the mornings, you know," Santana said. "She's probably upstairs doing the laundry or something."
Quinn still looked a little worried. "Okay," she said slowly. "Well, we can prepare our own breakfast today then."
"You worry too much," Santana said, chuckling, as she dug out a pan from the cupboard.
"Yeah, probably," Quinn said. "What are you doing?"
Santana oiled the pan and turned around. "What do you mean? What does it look like I'm doing?"
"It's just that I haven't seen you cook before," Quinn said. "It's always been Brittany."
"Oh, well now I must show all my skills off," Santana said playfully, standing up straighter and starting to tilt the pan from side to side so that the oil covers the entire base. "I bet you, your jaw will be on the floor by the time I finish."
"It probably will, to be honest," Quinn chuckled. "I'm absolutely useless in the kitchen."
"Well, that can easily be fixed," Santana shrugged, cracking open an egg with one hand and spreading it across the base of the pan flawlessly. "I'll teach you sometime. But not before I show you how good I am, how skilled my fingers are."
Quinn stifled a laugh.
Santana whipped around. "What's so funny?" she asked. "Why are you laughing?"
"No, it's just," Quinn wiped at her eyes. "You said how skilled your fingers are."
Santana stared blankly at the blonde before her before she realised the double meaning. "Oh god," she said in horror, face flushing. "That's so embarrassing."
"It is," Quinn agreed, still laughing. "Well, so what are you making?"
"An omelette," Santana said and Quinn widened her eyes. "Ooh, Brittany never cook that for you?" Santana taunted, manner jaunty, regaining some of her confidence.
"Nope, she normally makes more or less the same thing every day," Quinn said. "Guess she wants to do all the work with minimum effort. I don't blame her, she has a lot on her shoulders."
"Fair enough," Santana reached over for some pepper and some cheese. "It's about time we had something different," she said, sprinkling some pepper over the eggs. She was just about to flip the egg like how a pancake is flipped by chefs when a loud shout made her jump and lose control. The egg fell unceremoniously, landing on the floor with a wet splat.
"What were you saying?" Quinn said, raising an eyebrow. She didn't seem to have realised that someone had shouted rather loudly upstairs. "About really skilled fingers?" she teased.
"Shh," Santana put a finger on her lips to demonstrate her point. "Listen," she whispered.
Quinn stopped her motions and the two girls listened intently for about ten seconds. When there was pure silence, Quinn opened her mouth to talk again.
But before a single word could come out of her mouth, a loud shout came again.
"What the fuck are you doing?" the voice echoed through the house, making the walls vibrate. "Get up! Get up, you worthless bitch!"
"That… is trouble," Santana whispered, ignoring the egg on the floor and moving towards the exit. Quinn soon followed.
As they ascended the stairs, the shouting continued.
"I didn't buy you so that you can have a fucking lie-in! Get up!"
Santana was almost at the top of the stairs when a new voice made her freeze.
"I'm just really tired!" a voice that she was almost certain was Brittany's came. "Please, just a little longer!"
"No, fuck that!" a voice that was most definitely Mr Fabray's shouted.
"I do all the chores for you, I'm not a machine!" Brittany shouted back. "I need to rest too! I can't work if I'm too tired!"
"You talk back to me, bitch?" Mr Fabray growled, and that was quickly followed by a loud slap and a cry that chilled Santana's bones.
"Why did you stop?" Quinn hissed. When Santana looked back, the blonde's eyes were glazed. "Keep going!"
Right. Santana's legs started to move again, but now they felt numb.
"I don't give a shit!" Mr Fabray snarled. "You get up when I want you to get up, you do the things I tell you to do! End of story!"
"You have no right to do what you're doing," Brittany growled. "I'm a human being too! A human being! I'm so sick of you treating me like I'm nothing! Because I'm not nothing!"
The next few seconds were filled with silence, but it was deafening. Santana's footsteps increased in speed, hurrying to get to where Brittany slept.
"Quinn brainwash that shit into you?" Mr Fabray said, voice dangerously low, and now Santana was close enough to hear what he said. "Because you know what? You're never going to be anything other than nothing. And you want to know something else? I'm sick of you too. I don't need any more attitude in my life."
Santana burst into the room, and Quinn stumbled in quickly after.
"Russell!" Quinn shouted, and at first, Santana was a bit confused as to who Russell was, but then she quickly realised that it was the name of Quinn's dad. Guess she held on to what she said earlier, huh? She no longer called her 'daddy'.
Mr Fabray whipped around. "What, Quinn?" he sneered. "Trying to save your pathetic slave friends?"
"As a matter of fact, yes," Quinn said, defiant. "You're making this a bigger deal than it is, you're overreacting."
"I'm really not," Mr Fabray said, an icy smile appearing on his normally impassive features. "Brittany's time is done here."
"What do you mean?" Santana asked, surging forward, fearing for her friend. "What do you mean, her time is done?"
Mr Fabray looked disgusted with the notion that he had to deal with the brunette. "Away from me, filth," he snarled, pushing Santana harshly away.
That made Quinn incredibly angry. "Don't touch her!" she screamed, rushing forward to grab Santana, who was about to stumble.
"Just go mind your business," Mr Fabray rolled his eyes. "This has nothing to do with you." With that, he turned back around and that was when Santana could see Brittany for the first time, for Mr Fabray was no longer blocking her from view. Brittany had a nasty green mark across her left cheek, and looked so painful that Santana winced just to look at it.
"Get off me!" Brittany screamed as Mr Fabray dug his arms around her midsection and lifted her straight out of bed. "Get off me, you… freaking worthless bastard!"
"Who you calling worthless?" Mr Fabray roared, gripping Brittany's throat with one of his thick hands. "Huh?" he spat into her face. "What did you just say, slave?"
"Worthless!" Brittany repeated. "You are a freaking spineless psychopath that cannot deal with his wife's death and resorts to bullying children!" Brittany gritted, in pain but to her credit, she was still defiant under Mr Fabray's terrifying glare. "You are a worthless, you hear me? Worthless!"
Mr Fabray took a deep breath for a second, and Santana thought that he was going to let go of Brittany, but then he did something different.
He reached for his back pocket, pulling out a device and pressed it straight onto Brittany's stomach.
Santana could smell something burning, and Brittany's screams were so loud that it brought back memories that Santana had nearly succeeded in forgetting.
As if that wasn't enough, Mr Fabray let go and pressed the device onto the young blonde. There was more screaming, and soon she fell limp in Mr Fabray's arms.
It wasn't until Santana looked at Quinn that she realised that the screaming had come out of the short-haired blonde's throat. "What the fuck did you just do, Russell?" Quinn cried, hysterical and extremely angry.
He held up the device, and it was a taser. "Had to shut her up somehow," he grunted as he lifted Brittany and hoisted her over his shoulder. "Don't want to ever see that bitch again."
"So what, you electrocuted her?" Quinn screamed as Mr Fabray walked towards the exit, where the two girls were standing.
"Get out of my way," Mr Fabray ordered, a metre away from the blonde.
"No," Quinn said bravely.
When Mr Fabray raised the taser menacingly, Quinn showed no signs of retreat. But when the blonde saw Santana's pleading look, begging her to not get themselves into any more trouble, Quinn stepped slightly to the side.
"That's what I thought," Mr Fabray grumbled as he shoved past his daughter, bumping her shoulder along the way.
"Where are you taking her?" Quinn demanded.
"Out," was the simple response before the tall man disappeared around the corner and down the stairs.
Santana had no idea what to do. Quinn was breaking down in front of her, and she had no idea what to do. While she feared what Mr Fabray was going to do to Brittany, she feared what they just witnessed was going to do to Quinn more. Things were just looking up for them, and now Mr Fabray was just destroying their peace and happiness. She had never hated someone so much.
"I can't believe it," Quinn seethed, sobbing. "Who the actual fuck is that man? Why? Just why?"
"Shh," Santana rushed over to Quinn and held her in a tight embrace. "You still have me, Quinn. You still have me."
Quinn just continued to sob into Santana's shoulder relentlessly.
It had been about three hours and since it was about time for lunch, Santana decided to cook lasagne for Quinn given that she had told her that it was her favourite food a couple of months ago. Santana just wanted to cheer the despondent blonde up: her shirt was still damp from all the crying and it just broke her heart to see Quinn so broken. Never had she seen a non-slave that was this miserable.
Now lasagne wasn't as hard to make as Santana thought it was initially, it was mostly layers of pasta that were cut into big squares with cheese and minced meat inside. While it was hard to get right, Santana found, once she had done the first layer after making the pasta, the rest was a smooth ride. She was proud to say that she got the thing in the oven after only forty minutes. She didn't manage to impress the blonde over breakfast, as she never finished making her omelette, but hopefully she will be able to impress her now with lunch. She just prayed that it tasted good. She had never attempted to make lasagne, after all.
She was just washing up the dishes while it was baking in the oven when she heard the sound of tyres on the gravel outside. Instantly freezing her movements and turning off the tap so that she could hear better, she could make out the sound of the car door slamming outside.
This most likely meant that Mr Fabray was back. Which meant that it was probably best if she didn't stay here, alone, for any longer. Santana decided that she would leave the dishes to after the meal, if there even was a meal in the first place, and she would go upstairs to Quinn's room, which had become her sanctuary over the past few months.
When she creaked open the door to Quinn's room, she could see the blonde lying motionless on the bed at first, but when Quinn heard the door open, she sat up.
"Hey," Quinn's voice was a bit hoarse.
"Hey, I just got lunch set up," Santana said. "I came up here because your dad's back."
"He's not my dad," Quinn said coldly.
"Okay, well, um, Russell is back," Santana felt a little uncomfortable referring to Mr Fabray with his first name. "And I don't know, the food is downstairs, and he's downstairs, um…"
"Don't worry about that," Quinn said. "We'll still go downstairs to eat, he can't do anything to us."
"Okay," Santana nodded. "If you're fine with it, I'm fine with it too."
Quinn gave her a small smile. "So, what did you make?"
"Your favourite," Santana grinned. "It should be ready in thirty."
"Well," Quinn drawled. "In the meantime, stay here? I don't really want you down there alone."
"I thought you'd never ask," Santana smiled.
Mr Fabray ended up sitting with the two girls at the lunch table. It wasn't ideal, and Santana had not planned on it happening, but as she was preparing the plates for the two of them in the kitchen, Mr Fabray just walked in, saw that Santana had prepared a plate, took one, and left to sit at the dining table. Santana knew better than to intervene and say that that plate belonged to Quinn.
He did say thank you, however, which confused Santana to no end.
Anyway, Santana explained the predicament to Quinn when she came into the kitchen, and Quinn just let out a heavy sigh. She said that they shouldn't let Mr Fabray affect their daily lives, that they shouldn't eat in the kitchen or on the sofa because of him, so they were still going to sit at the dining table, where they should've been at in the first place.
There was so much tension in the air that it was tangible. Mr Fabray just ate with his knife and fork, keeping to himself and not really bothering the two girls. Judging by the fact that he did not complain about the food, it probably meant that it was decent enough. With that in mind, Santana tasted it and yes, it did work out a lot better than she expected for a first try.
The silence was broken about five minutes into the meal, however. Quinn looked like she had wanted to say something for quite a while now, and it seemed like she couldn't resist anymore.
"Where is Brittany?" Quinn demanded.
Mr Fabray merely looked up with a bored expression. "Why do you care?"
"Where is Brittany?" Quinn repeated. "You left with her and returned without."
"Gone," was the simple answer and Mr Fabray turned his head down and continued to eat.
"Where?" Quinn shouted, slamming her knife down with a loud bang. "Where is she?"
"Calm yourself, young lady," Mr Fabray scolded, picking up his napkin and wiping his mouth. "I said that she was gone, do I need to explain any more?"
"Yes," Quinn said. "I will not stop until you tell me where she is."
"Fine," Mr Fabray set down his cutlery. "I freed her."
That took both Santana and Quinn aback. What on earth?
"Y-You freed her? Is that even possible?" Quinn said incredulously.
Mr Fabray just shrugged nonchalantly and picked up his cutlery again, eating.
"Where is she now?" Quinn asked.
"I don't know?" Mr Fabray said. "I took her down a few blocks and dumped her outside. She's probably still there if she hasn't woken up yet."
"What?" Quinn nearly whispered, outraged. "That is not freeing!"
"Yes it is," Mr Fabray shot back. "She said she got sick of me. I got sick of her. I took her away and left her there. She now gets the whole world to explore, and I'm rid of her. It's a win-win."
"It's not," Quinn seethed. "How can you do this? You left her out there to die! She has no food, no water, no shelter! She's going to freeze to death when night falls!"
"That's not my problem," Mr Fabray shrugged. "She'll figure something out if she's smart. But I don't really care."
"This is what you did to every slave, isn't it, that you've owned before. That's why they all disappear one day, isn't it?" Quinn growled.
"Yep. I'm doing them a favour. Most of them were happy that I was freeing them. I don't know about Brittany, though, she was still unconscious when I threw her away."
"You're a monster," Quinn said, irate. "Threw her away? You want to know something, Russell? I have never felt such hatred towards one person before. You heard that? I hate you." With that, Quinn slammed her fork on the lasagne and stalked away.
Santana caught Mr Fabray's hurt expression before she decided that she didn't want to be at the table anymore, so she got up as well and left briskly.
"I don't even know how to feel anymore," Quinn muttered as they were now both safely in the confines of her room again. "He killed her. Brittany's gone."
"I don't think so," Santana said. "Brittany is smart. She will find a way, don't you worry."
"How can you be so confident?" Quinn asked, meeting the brunette's eyes.
"It's just a gut feeling, and gut feelings never lie," Santana said, gesturing around her midsection. "She'll be fine."
"I sure hope so," Quinn sighed. "I'm sorry about lunch, San, I just couldn't bear to see Russell anymore. It's like he didn't even care."
"It's okay," Santana said.
"No, the lasagne was really nice," Quinn said, grabbing onto one of Santana's hands. "I'm sorry not finishing it."
Yep, there they were, the butterflies and the tingles of electricity.
"I'm a good cook, aren't I?" Santana smirked, trying to lighten up the situation.
"The best," Quinn said, leaning forward for a short peck.
That peck may have lasted a second, but to Santana, it meant more than the eighteen years she had before she met Quinn.